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Transcript of an oral history interview with Mrs. Carol Todd, conducted by Sarah Yahm at the interviewee's home in Roxbury, Vermont, on 12 May 2015, as part of the Norwich Voices oral history project of the Sullivan Museum and History Center. Carol Todd was the wife of Norwich University president, W. Russell Todd, and the founder of the Norwich University Center for Volunteer Management. Included in the interview are reminiscences of Mrs. Todd's early life and education as well as her experiences at Norwich University. ; Mrs. Carol Todd, Oral History Interview May 12, 2015 At interviewee's home Interviewed by Sarah Yahm Transcribed by C.T. Haywood, NU '12 May 20, 2015 SARAH YAHM: You know what hold on I haven't turned this on yet and we're talking about interesting stuff that might be good to have on tape. But what were you saying about "should?" CAROL TODD: Well I, when General Todd was a young officer and we were first living at Fort Knox I learned a good deal about what I came to feel was my responsibility or at least what I should do for those wives who are around me, who might need me, who were just like I was with their mother wasn't there, their family was far way. And in those days when you were in Kentucky and your folks lived in New England it was a long way away. There was none of the technology that we enjoy now. Now I never was very good at this but I tried my best and I eventually did the work not directly for these young people but through an organization called Army Community Services, which was a social work organization, which now has become very strong and has professional people that do it. But when it started it was folks like myself who saw the need to be available. And we did what people's family would do for people who are in need or really need, kept an eye on folks is what happened. We all lived on post in the 1950s almost everyone lived on post in government quarters, government apartments. And we were neighbors. We were friends. We knew each other. We did things. We went for walks with the babies in a baby carriage. It's a different world and I understand that but I don't know how we got on the subject but it's…. SY: Well it's interesting because JoAnn Kelley who I interviewed talks about… CT: Oh yes! Interesting yeah… SY: Yeah about um when they were in Germany I guess you know Mike Kelley was away for a couple days for some reason. CT: Sure. SY: …for some reason she had already lost most of her vision and she talks about the incredible support of the women living on post with her enabling her to be able to do what she needed to do, right? Her kid got hurt and needed to go to the hospital and the degree to which the other, the mothers just dropped everything and took care of her kids and got her to the hospital and got her kid x-rays. And she felt that very powerfully in Germany. CT: Yeah and isn't it wonderful that she was the recipient of that kind of attention, because it must have been pretty tough to be alone. I think the whole ethos of this type of 2 community has changed in this whole country. It isn't just the military that it's changed in but and it isn't just the Army. I think the whole, but, for instance in those early days wives did not work. Ha! Heavens no! I knew of one of my friends who had a job who worked for a while. And I had come from a pla--from a situation where I had been working full time and could have probably managed to continue doing personnel work which is what I was doing. But I thought, "Huh," but nobody does that, you know, that isn't what we do here, you know. SY: Did you miss it? Because you, I mean you were you know you'd had a very good education, you were trained, you were? CT: I really didn't miss it at all. I really didn't. It was, we had such a good time. It was really fun. It was really fun for a while and one of the couples to whom we were close then, they lived around the corner and down the street a little bit, we are still close to. They live in Saco, Maine and the name is Nutting, Jane and Wally Nutting, and we still talk a lot and send birthday cards and visit once or twice a year. Unfortunately they both have some health issues, well don't we all at this age if you come right down to it. And so we don't see them as often as we'd like. But there was some very, very strong bonds. We took care of each other's children, we took care of each other. It was, it was easy and it's what people did and it made it easier to do I think than perhaps a different situation. And we were poor. You've got to remember in those days there was no extra cash. Everybody was counting out to see how much money they have left for the last week in the month and… SY: And were some--were you paying for your housing or was your housing free? CT: No we were paying for it. Because there were all kinds of arrangements but everybody paid for it in one way or another. Either they deducted it from your salary if you lived in certain kinds of housing. We lived in what was considered contract apartments and I think we paid $65.00 a month which seems like, it seemed like a lot then. It was for us then. And everybody and nobody, everybody, all the women were wearing their clothes from their trousseau you know because that's, there was no running out and buying new outfits and stuff like that. Yeah. SY: So let me actually, let me officially start this interview because I need to get us on tape. CT: Please do. SY: So I'm here interviewing--though I'll transcribe that and use that it's super interesting. So I'm here interviewing Carol Todd. Its May 12, we're at her house in Northfield. Is this technically still in Northfield? CT: As a matter of fact the house is in Roxbury though the garage is in Northfield. SY: [laughs]3 CT: Winch Hill Road is, you know the dividing line goes right through our garage as a matter of fact. We can show it to you. It's painted on the floor the garage. SY: That's hilarious, yeah. It's like the Derby Line Opera House and Library. CT: Oh yes, right, right [laughs]. It's true. SY: So okay let's actually, let's start from the beginning because oral history it's a story of a life. So I guess where did you grow up? Where were you born? CT: I born in Beverly, Massachusetts which is just north of Boston - 28 miles we used to say - in 1928. I can remember, we've got a picture somewhere in our files of the funny old car that my father had to, came home from the hospital, a funny sort of thing, an open sort of sedan thing. My parents were older parents which made my birth very exciting because my mother was 37 or 8 by the time I was born and that was considered geriatric practically. She never had the first labor pain. She didn't have the baby and didn't have the baby when it was due. So finally the doc went, "Hmmm better do something about this," and it was determined well before I was born that I was no doubtful a boy. There was no question about it. I had such a slow heartbeat which I still do. But no I wasn't a boy was I? And he was to have been named for my father, it would have been William Henry. So when I was a girl, some of the doctor or one of the nurses said, "Well, what are you going to name her?" and she said, "Well I guess I'll have to name her Wilhelmina Henrietta" which caused everyone in the delivery room to have a good laugh. But instead I was named for my grandfather's mother who had died giving birth to him in 18--what is it? '34 I think, yeah. I get the numbers kind of mixed up. But no he was born in '54, 1854. And anyway, but I was named for her my name being Caroline but I've been called Carol ever since. Because at the time in the thirties Carole Lombard was very, very famous and very fancy. So lots of people who were named a word like Caroline would be named, called Carol and that's, I still use Caroline for my legal name but other than that. And then I grew up in Beverly, small town, 20,000 people more or less. Went to the public school there. Could walk to school, could walk home for lunch, back for the afternoon, back home in the afternoon, play outside in the in our yard or in the yard next door. Go sliding on down the street on the little hill in somebody else's backyard. I had ah [cough] (pardon me), I had friends that I knew in kindergarten that I graduated from high school with and one of them I still play Words with Friends to this day with. One of these girls is still my friend. It's really fun. Everybody went to a different church and I thought, was only thinking about that this morning. My sister and I and one other, Eleanor, went to the Washington Street Congregational Church which is around the street from us. But my friend Pauline went to the Baptist church which was up the corner, and Elizabeth Ann went to the Episcopal church and then another friend went to the Dane Street Congregational Church and nobody thought this was odd. I mean this is how it was. People were all mixed together I think in the public school system which was a really good thing. I can remember in the sixth grade how thrilled I was when a new student came whose name was Emilio Zarzanello. So my last name being Wyeth I was no longer the end of the alphabet when we lined up by names. So I loved Emilio Zarzanello.4 I thought that was grand. Went to all the way through the public school there, went to junior high. It was a building called Briscoe which still stands in the center of town which is the same school that my grandfather had gone to and it had been condemned during the time he was there so you can imagine what it was like then. Went to high school there at Beverly High School and that's where I met my husband whose family lived in Wenham, Massachusetts, which is an area just north of where we lived that had no high school. So he was tuitioned into Beverly High School, and I guess we just, we had lockers, adjacent lockers, you know how kids used to in high school. And l loved that high school. It was really great. Had extremely good teachers, some. A wonderful English teacher who pushed and shoved me hard to love words, to recite poetry, to do this sort of thing. And a history teacher named Mr. Bellmore who taught us how to take exams which was a marvelous thing to do. Every Monday morning he passed out a piece of paper on which there were 5 questions and these were things we were going to learn this week in American history. On Friday he would choose one of these topics, throw out a question in regards to this, give us blue books just like you had in college and said, "You now have 20 minutes to write me an essay on this subject." Well once you got the idea and got onto it all you had to do is learn the material and recite it back in written form, which he then corrected, spelling, punctuation, to say nothing of the facts and by the end of senior year I could take an exam in almost anything if somebody would frame it just correctly. And it helped me tremendously in college to have had that training. It was a good high school. SY: Absolutely. Do you remember your first impression of your husband? CT: Yeah I do. I just thought he was so handsome and he was wearing a bright red cable knit sweater that his grandmother had made for him. Isn't that funny? Yes I do. But the interesting thing was his mother had just had a baby. A what? We were astonished. And that baby is his brother Dick who we still are very. very close to but all those years through high school Russ was a big draw for girls who loved to go up to his house and push the baby carriage and knit mittens for Richard and this sort of thing. It's funny isn't it yeah? Our parents, both sets of parents sensed it once this was an important relationship for both of us. So my mother called a woman whose name I've really tried hard to remember, but she lived in Wenham and mother knew that - her name was Miriam something - she knew that Miriam would have known the Todds through the town. So she called up to ask Miriam who these people were. Meanwhile the Todds who lived down the street from this ladyhad called her to say, "Do you know who these people are that live in Beverley?" And she assured both parents that this was okay that this you know is a good relationship and everybody relaxed and said, "Okay." We went to a lot of activities together in high school. SY: I was just gonna say. So this is what year? You were born in '28 so this is… CT: We graduated in '46 so it's late forties. SY: Okay so, yeah what were, what was dating like in the early forties? What were the protocols? 5 CT: Well, the boy usually called up or said, "Do you want to go to the movies?" That's what we did; we went to the movies. And the first few times we dated we went with his parents, his mother and father, because Russ didn't drive because he, I suppose he wasn't 16 come to think--oh he must have been. Well I don't know why we wend, but anyway we did, we went with the Todds and a couple of times. And then my mother and by then my father wasn't well, but anyway and we were living with my grandparents. But my mother said, "Why don't we have him for dinner before you go out?" I don't know where we were going so he came for supper and that was a big success because he was reasonably comfortable doing that. He had met them and we lived about 5 or 6 maybe 7 miles apart. They weren't really in our neighborhood but it was another town. And that we also used to do things like go to a large picnics that the coll--school would have like the chemistry department would have a picnic and we'd all go. And I can remember one time we won a three legged race. Because you see physically we were very much the same size. Of course we're not now because I've shrunk more, but we were then. I have longer legs and he had a longer torso but we could do things like, we're very much the same shape and size which was handy for three legged races if nothing else. SY: Exactly. I'm also realizing that you grew up during the war. And so I'm wondering what your memories of wartime in Beverley were like? Do you remember blackout curtains? Do you remember rationing? CT: Oh yeah, all those things. Blackout curtains were fun. Well they weren't fun but it was interesting because you had to have them, and you had to pull them down and sometimes you pulled them down and fasten them on the sill. But if you didn't do it just right they'd unroll and go "brrrt" go up and everybody'd "oh no." We also had to paint the bottom half of the headlights on the cars because we lived near the ocean. You know we lived right there on the Atlantic Ocean. So you had to do that in order that the, to take care of the submarines so they wouldn't see you when they came in close to shore. Which of course we learned they did later. We learned quite a bit about that. My father was in the Coast Guard Auxiliary. He was of the wrong age to be in the second world, in either of the world wars. He was too young for one, too old for another. And so he used to go out with the other men on his team and walk on the beaches in Beverly and sometimes in other towns nearby looking for lights in the ocean and he'd come home. All night they'd be out, you know, like 8 or 9 hours maybe longer at night. I can remember how tired he would be and every once in a while he'd say to my mother, "It was worth it, it was worth it," meaning they'd seen something and notified the people in Boston who took care of it, you know. They had a telephone system. It wasn't like a cell phone but they had some sort of a telephone system they could call. And he also in the summertime went out in a boat with his friend Homer Riggs and looking for people who are off our coast that didn't belong there. Which was sort of interesting too. We collected tin foil when you chewed gum. You got, you know each one was wrapped in a tin foil. Maybe it still is I don't know, and we made balls of tin foil. We collected newspapers. As we recycled them then we recycled them then in the World War II. We 6 also collected bacon fat. Nasty trick but you put any fat into a tin can or some sort of a receptacle that would have a lid. I can't remember what else. Oh my mother was a hoot. She decided if my father was going to be in Coast Guard Auxiliary she'd have to do something so she joined the Red Cross Auxiliary and learned to cook for large numbers of people. I have a recipe book somewhere - cocoa for 100, meatloaf for 250, you know. She never did it, she never had to do it. But they were prepared for any kind of emergency. Well the only emergency we ever had was in our town. There were icehouses full of saw dust where they stored the ice from Wenham Lake and Kelleher's Pond which was near our house and stuff. Well time had come for those things to burn. Nobody set fires but I went to at least 3 icehouse fires during those years which, because my father would get us up in the middle of the night. They always burned at night it seemed. SY: Why would they being set on fire? CT: They weren't set on fire it would be combustion, you know, some sort of combustion, internal combustion. No, they were not set on fire. SY: Oh okay. CT: No, it just, they were accidents that happened I guess. SY: But there were a lot during that time period which is interesting. CT: Yeah, I guess, maybe I'm wrong. I don't know. SY: I don't know because it would be hard for an icehouse to be set on, it just seems strange to me. CT: When icehouses empty and there's no ice in there dripping. SY: Oh the sawdust I didn't realize that. CT: You see, would dry out [phone rings in background] I suppose that maybe lightning set it on fire. I really don't know. SY: But you would wake up and you would go - CT: And my father would say, "come on quick!" so my sister and I we'd jump [sound of getting ready in a hurry] and run down and mother would be in her suit in case she had to make coca for 100, and the 4 of us would go off. And the thing was to be sure to be watch your step because my mother like both of my sister and I tend to trip on things. So my mother once tripped over a fire hose and skinned her knee. Caused great trouble because then the other Red Cross volunteers all came around in excitement to give her a bandage. That was big stuff. SY: Because everybody was all dressed up with nowhere to go, they had nothing to do but make hot cocoa for 150 [laughs]. A Band-Aid for the woman who tripped! That's hilarious. 7 CT: And she's one of our volunteers too, "Oh dear there goes Helen again." But anyway it was sort of an adventure for us. Now the other thing about World War II that made a huge impression on me - down at the end of our street, the end of our street was right on the water itself. We lived about 5 or 6 houses up. I could count them maybe I'm not sure how many. Anyway, lived a family that had a little girl that we babysat, I babysat for and my sister did and we helped take care of this girl. Nice little handicapped - she had I'm not sure what but she was handicapped. But we, so we enjoyed her. She was a nice girl. And their father whose name was Les Buck was on the train. His father, her father was on the train going into Boston one time because the Boston went in from the, from Beverly, every day so people could work in what we called in Town. In town was Boston, not, and uptown was Beverly but in town was to go to Boston. So he goes in, he's going in town, and he's sitting there minding his own business and he had had language lessons when he was in high school like so many of us do, and he could figure that the people in back of him were speaking German. Didn't know quite what they were saying but it was clearly German. "Hmm," he said. So when they got to Boston, to the North Station, he just got off and walked into where - in the railroad stations then they had a lot military police and there were shore police from the Navy all the way around Boston - and went up and said what he'd heard. And said, "those are the two men right there," and they run right over and took them away. Just because they were speaking German which sounds awful doesn't it? SY: I mean who knows? They could have, right… CT: It could have been German. Who knows, but we always thought they'd come aboard out of a submarine which is apparently did happen many times, but we thought that pretty exciting. SY: Yeah because it happened on your street. Yeah, yeah, yeah. CT: But if Russ were here, he'd tell you another story about our family which is World War I that he unearthed, and that is that somewhere in the papers that he's got of our family there's a letter that my grandfather got beginning of World War I saying: "Dear Mr. Lee, because of your exemplary behavior and your role as president of a bank in this small town you are hereby appointed by the governor of Massachusetts and the President of the United States to be on the alert on anything untoward that might happen in your community. We are aware that on the same street where you live there is a Mr. Carl Klink and Mr. Klink is now a U.S. citizen but has many relatives overseas." And you can just hear this letter. Mr. Klink, charming man, ran a bakery uptown and they said, "if at any time you have concerns about anything going on your street. You are at once to…" you know it's terribly officious letter… SY: And it's good that it was your grandfather and not somebody else who was sort of a paranoid bully, right? And would have taken him out of the bakery. CT: It's possible, yeah. We knew them really well. His wife was a friend of my grandmother's. His daughter went to school with my aunt. His granddaughter was in my 8 sister's group of friends, you know. And so my grandfather just filed it under you know, but Russ found it not long ago which it's funny. SY: It's so interesting. CT: There must have been people all over this country that got letters like that, don't you think? And now we wonder about you know privacy and all that kind of stuff, yeah. SY: That's fascinating. CT: Isn't that interesting? SY: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Well and the "if you see something say something", right? The post 9-11 signs everywhere. I didn't realize that that's how it was done in World War I. That's fascinating. So what about the Depression, how did your family fare? CT: Well my father had a very bad experience. We're never going to get to, we're never going to get me grown up at this rate. But my father had a very bad experience and I'll try to tell it straight because it's a little difficult. He was co-owner of an automobile agency and they sold Chryslers and Dodge and maybe one other kind of car. I was pretty young when this happened. And he went off to work every day and they sold the cars and everything worked fine. His partner was a man named Mr. Berry like in strawberry, Ralph Berry. And the story goes that one day he was ah, he got up go to work, went down to the garage what they called it, where this agency was, there were no cars, there were no records, there was nothing in the office and Ralph Berry was gone and so was every single cent in the bank that belonged to this agency. This was before the days when we had limited partnerships and we had legal protections for people who entered partnerships. In other words this man stole everything and it caused a great deal, a great deal of distress as you could well imagine. My father eventually after a few days had what they called a nervous breakdown. Now I suspect it was a depression of some sort. I don't know what it was. But I know I don't what it was. But I know that he had he to stay in bed and the curtains had to be down and my sister and I either had to be very quiet or go across the street to where my grandparents lived and go stay. We stayed over there for a little bit. And I, how long it went on I don't know, but eventually of course he got over it, whatever it was. But what else could it have been but depression? He didn't have a stroke. I don't know. He, as a result of this always had high blood pressure so it must have happened in 1937 or '38. Or no even before - '36 or '37, because by '38 when I was 10 years old, he was okay I can remember. But anyway and he died very young from auxiliary problems from having high blood pressure which in those days they didn't treat. The only thing they did he was he was supposed to be on a salt free diet. You know almost everything, even eggs have naturally some salt in them and you don't have to add anything. But my mother made salt free bread. Oh there were all kinds of goings on but he just continually got worse and worse and he died when I was a, well he died in 194-, he died in the November of 194-, October of 1949. So the last few years of his life were pretty uncomfortable for him and for all of us you, know. But Mr. Berry got off from this scot-free to the best of my knowledge I don't know otherwise. Had the nerve shortly 9 after my father died to buy a beautiful big house in Hamilton which is another small town outside Beverly, with horses and big yards, and gardens and stuff. Married a second wife and came back to town. And I thought, "What gall?" now somebody, I hope nobody listening to this ever was a relative of this man. But he just caused an awful lot of heartache in our family. But shortly after that I think it was this didn't happen to my father alone. This sort of thing was going on all over the country. Times were getting hard, the Depression was hard on people and my mother and father managed to take care of us somehow, I don't know. There was no social security. I'm sure they used up every cent of savings they'd ever had. I know when we needed things like when we got to be a certain age and wanted to go to camp my grandparents always gave it to us for our birthday present. Winter coats magically appeared, you know. I can re--the only time I ever remember anything happening that affected me personally was I said to my mother, "I really need a new pair of shoes these are getting so worn out," blah, blah, blah. And she said, "Carol I know you do," and she said, "and you can have a new pair of shoes. We're just gonna have to wait until the first of the month." And so we waited until the first of the month and I got what I needed. But there was no ah, they didn't. We were very very fortunate. SY: And they protected you from--I'm sure they were filled CT: Absolutely! SY: with money anxieties but they protected you from that? CT: Oh yeah. Oh yeah. SY: And so your father never really got his footing back? CT: Well in a way he did. Because after he sort of got his wits back together he and a friend of his who is a doctor, and the father of one of my girlfriend's, and another gentleman who we knew got together and bought cranberry bogs in Rhode Island, in a little small town called Greene, Rhode Island that's on the border with Connecticut; in Marshfield, Massachusetts which is near Quincy and Duxbury; and a third one that I for the life of me can't remember where it was. And they formed little company called the Summit Cranberry Company. These were all cranberry bogs that at one time had been very productive and had been let go and they had the great pleasure of investing enough money in it to make them all productive. It was just the time that Ocean Spray was getting going and Ocean Spray kept trying to buy them out or buy their product. "No," said these strong New England gentlemen, "we are independent growers." They loved being…well of course it was their downfall but they remained independent growers and they sold through an independent agent. Only berries to be sold in crates in the grocery store, never anything boxed or barreled or made into juice or jelly [laughs] certainly not. Just straight cranberries and they had various, all these different kinds and my mother used to go and help during harvest season. She used to go down and live at one of the bogs with my father while he was managing the harvest and she would go and I don't know did things with the various women and stuff. 10 SY: A lot of the Cape Verde immigrants worked? CT: They did, yeah. Except the foreman who was the only man I remember. His last name was Thibodeau and that's French isn't it? SY: French-Canadian. CT: So he probably was French-Canadian and he had a daughter named Lilian who was my sister's age. And one year at Christmas in the midst of all this my family got together and they said now, "We want to tell you we always put aside a certain amount of money for your Christmas." And they said, "But we just feel this year that Lillian and her sister (whose name I forgot) need Christmas treats more than you do. Would you mind if we took some of your money and gave them?" We said, "No fine with us, we like these little kids too." Which they did and you know to this day I have no idea that we got any less or any different than we ever did. We never knew the difference, you know, but I love it that they told us what they were going to do. SY: Well I think they were modeling. They were teaching you something, yeah. CT: Yeah. SY: That's very interesting so he did manage to do it. So okay do you remember going down there during harvest time? CT: Oh yeah. Sure. SY: Did you help harvest? CT: No. We were always too small. They used women and no. And I think it sort of would have been against the ethic to have the boss's children paddling around in the. But interestingly enough wherever cranberries grow so do blueberries, and we would always pick all the blueberries we could and we'd bring them home and blueberry jam and blueberry pie, and give them to the neighbors and you know stuff like that. We picked blueberries. And if my sister were here she'd tell you a story that I'm not sure. She always says that one time when she was picking blueberries she began to feel really cross because my mother was sort of supervising her and saying, "Don't pick this one we don't want any green ones" [nagging sound] and she looked around and it wasn't my mother it was a bear that was standing by her. But that was the presence she felt was a bear. SY: Oh that's Blueberries for Sal. That's a children's book that I've read, she mixed that up. Blueberries for Sal is a story in Maine of a little boy named Sal picking berries. CT: It's Robert McCloskey isn't it? SY: Yeah, yeah. CT: Isn't that, that's where she got it. SY: That's where she got it. She thought it was her own story! [Laughs] that's hilarious. 11 CT: She probably--you can see as a little kid it just seems so much like the experiences she'd had. What a hoot and a half. SY: That's hilarious. CT: We're not going to let her hear this. Sorry, sorry. SY: You should buy her a copy of Blueberries for Sal and send it to her in the mail [laughs]. CT: Golly isn't that funny. SY: It's one of my favorite children's books it's lovely, yeah [laughs]. CT: Oh I am blushing here. SY: It's so funny. Okay so that's the forties at that point? CT: Yeah and then we went to high school and we worked hard and we had 2 or 3 good teachers, but some hm-hm. Oh Latin, my mother insisted we take Latin because she majored in German in college and she thought Latin was absolutely essential that everybody have lots of Latin. Because it was so good to help you figure out what all the words in other. To this day playing Words with Friends I'll give Pauline a French word and she'll say, "No you know you can't do that." But so we took French and we took lots of Latin in school and we had a French tutor whose name was Madam DeBesey and she was a French refugee of sorts, who made us come to her house and have tea and crackers after school one day a week. And have conversational French. It's so awkward you know, but we both learned a good deal. So that when I actually went to live in France I just turned on my high school years and was able to manage. SY: So your family wasn't part of the military. It doesn't seem like the military was part of your upbringing. CT: Oh, no, no except my father being in the Coast Guard Auxiliary. No, no we didn't know anything. But Russ' family was and when you talk to him he'll tell you about his dad and stuff. SY: And so when you and Russ started dating and seeing each other and it looked like it was going to get serious, you must have realized that you were probably going to be married to a man in the military. And what were your thoughts about that about that life? CT: Oh that's a good question. I don't--certainly in the high school years and in the first few years in college I just thought it was interesting that he was up here at Norwich going to school. I was in Northampton which isn't that far away and used to come up on the train to see him, and it was kind of fun except there were those fraternities. And I'm just too much of a stick in the mud or too, I don't know, I didn't find all this hilarity and all this drinking and stuff. I was just, I was just uncomfortabl,e it just didn't suit me. And so we became friends with several couples literally who were married and we were just 18-19 years old, but who were married and lived a more somber life here in the, you've 12 heard them talk about people who lived in the trailers down where Kreitzberg Library is. And some of these people who were, I was more comfortable with because they were more staid I suppose. And but we used to do things with the fraternity too. Russ had a good time working with them and we came up here, Junior Week was so much fun where they had polo game matches. SY: Can you pause for a second? Because I realizing your chair is making noise. CT: Oh yes I squeak this chair. SY: Let's just switch out the chairs is that possible? CT: Okay, sure. SY: Because I don't want because it's squeaky yeah. CT: I never even noticed it. SY: Yeah I didn't notice it until a little a while ago. Do you want me to move it or you got it? CT: No, no I've got it. Let's try that one. That's a newer one, give it a wiggle first and see. Better? SY: Quieter, way quieter [laughs]. CT: Yeah these are pretty old chairs. Alright good, I'll try not to. SY: Oh don't worry about it. It's not a big deal. I just thought you know why not get a less squeaky chair. Okay alright so you're coming up, so do you remember your first impressions of Norwich? CT: Not really, but one of things I really miss terribly is how beautiful Central Street was. When I came here Central Street was an arch of the most gorgeous trees all over the top and they took down the last of them, the one between the president's house and the next door just this spring. Beautiful trees. It was a very pretty place in the right weather. One of the times I came up here we've got a marvelous picture somewhere of me getting off the train and being met at the station downtown with the, by Russ and our friend Jim Ricker who was in, he also went to high school with us, and he was there too. So Jim came down too and a band from the university to meet the girls getting off the bus, ah, off the train. And I thought that was pretty swift you know. We always, the women in those days dates did not stay in the dorms [laughs] heaven forbid! We stayed with people around town and Russ can tell some funny stories about trying to get dates, places for me to stay because of course his father had gone here and his mother had come up to visit him and these people all remembered his dad because Dad Todd was a terrific dancer and they all thought this was fun to have Tommy Todd's son, you know, now coming to see him. So I got to know a few people who lived in town that way because I stayed at their house. It was fun. I was glad when put do--I was glad when they closed down the 13 fraternities it didn't make sense it and we still know people who fuss at it at with us and Russ just nods his head and said, "What can you do you know, it's how it is." SY: Change tradition, grumble, grumble. CT: Yeah. SY: Yeah. CT: But and you see that was talking about too and I'm talking about the changing tradition how it bothers me in another way when it's something that affected me more such as what goes on in Army life. It's just hard as you get older. It is. SY: It is hard, yeah change is hard. Okay so you would come up and you would stay with people in town? CT: Right. SY: And you would, oh so Junior Week you were talking about Junior Week. CT: Oh yes I had, let's see they had polo matches, which were great fun to watch. They had equestrian fancy riding, what do you call that? Dressage. They had all kinds of basket--not basketball, baseball games and other things that were really fun to do, as well as a dance. But the dances were really big time, they would pay somehow to have very big bands come here - Artie Shaw and all these people. Do you know who the Ink Spots were? Now the Ink Spots, I never saw them, but apparently they did come to Norwich once because as we speak somebody on behalf of the museum is trying to buy a poster that says the Ink Spots are coming to Norwich University. SY: I interviewed a guy two weeks ago, I'm blanking on his name, super nice man lives in town. Northfield, I mean Norwich graduate, who or I don't know if he graduated but he was at Norwich for a couple of years ,and he was in a band that played all the time during that period of time. CT: Oh I'm sure. SY: But I'm sure you know him but I can't remember his name right now. CT: I'm glad to hear you say you have the same trouble because I really can't remember a lot of these people's names. My vision and mentally I can see so many of these people and what fun it was. SY: Ha-Hammond? Hammond is his last name I think. He's in town, yeah but he was he played the saxophone and he played at all of these events on campus. CT: I'm sure. SY: Yeah. CT: I don't think….14 SY: Who knows? CT: I don't know that name. SY: Okay so you're at Smith during this time and what's your vision when you're at Smith of what your future's gonna look like. Are you thinking like when I graduate, were you thinking when I graduate I'm gonna get married, when I graduate…? CT: No I wasn't. Now that's interesting because Russ was always a part of my life from the time I met him. I think in a different way than most people get married so quickly to each other. He was just, I knew so much about him and his mother and his father and his brother and his sister-laws. But I also knew that somehow I needed to do something. I wanted to do something before I got married because in those days once you got married you probably weren't going to have a career. I don't know that I put it in words or said I wanted a career, (oh dear there's the rain) but I did want to, I guess try my skills. I guess maybe that's what I was thinking. So when it was time for me to graduate I majored in sociology with a lot of economics which I wasn't so good at, a lot of French, a lot of English literature. But the best courses I'll just don't mind telling anybody I ever took at Smith or anywhere else were art appreciation my senior year and music appreciation my French year. Those have lasted me so well so well. I oh well that's another whole story but so I always say to people I know going to college, don't just focus on what you might do for a career there's so much more to learn, don't sell yourself short. SY: That's what the liberal arts are about, developing yourself, right? CT: That's right yeah. Oh that art course was fabulous. Well anyway the upshot of all this is, so it's time for me to graduate and my sister however has still got another year. she's two years younger. But she was just a year behind me in school. So she was at Smith too and my father had died so I went into the--we all has appointments with somebody in the administration. Her name was Mrs. Mindel, but I don't know what her title was. And she said, "What are you going to do when you graduate?" I said, "Well I don't know for sure but there's a course at Radcliffe I'd really like to go to, a one year program in business administration. It is essentially the first year of the Harvard Business School which does not accept women as you know. But it's very much the same thing and I just would really love to do that and see if I can get some skills there that I could use." And she said, "Okay, let me think about this." So she called me back and she said, "Here's the deal," she said, "I'm going to call your mother and I'm going to suggest that if she will pay for you to go to this program at Radcliffe, I will give your sister full room and board and tuition for her senior year at Smith." What she was doing was giving me a graduate program. And they did. SY: Wow and I wonder….what an interesting arrangement because she wanted. CT: And my mother was just thrilled. She wanted me to have that opportunity. SY: That's great! 15 CT: It is--I have never heard of anything like it. SY: Me neither. CT: And I said, "really?!" And I know that the course I went to was nowhere, it was nothing dollar wise, I don't know what my mother paid but it was nothing like. But she knew, she knew that I was, that the family was having trouble financially and that we would've, they would have seen that Anne went, she would have finished, we would have found a way. So, "oh great," I said so off I went to be a bridesmaid in 2 or 3 weddings the way you'd often do it after in those days after college. And started in August at this program. Lived in Cambridge on Brattle Street. It was just a wonderful experience, learned how to write a one page memo that told, said everything you wanted to in you know 3 paragraphs. I just learned so much a lot about personnel work a lot about accounting. SY: Were you in classes with the men in the MBA program? CT: Oh no, no, no. We weren't even supposed to talk to them. No, no, no. SY: How did they make that clear to you? They said no talking to them or no interacting? CT: No, one of my classmates eventually, Jan Campbell eventually married the guy she met there, no. It was just. We were on the Radcliffe campus which was on Garden Street, do you know that area on Garden Street? And I lived at 69 Brattle Street and we had, we fixed our own breakfast, had lunch at the dining facility that was on campus, and then took turns fixing dinner. There were 9 of us that lived - I can make something for 9 in a flash - that lived in this house. And then the rest of the students who did not live in this house of which there were another maybe 10 or 12 lived at home or boarded somewhere else. But they were people that, I was the only person, there were two of us from Massachusetts. Everybody else was from another state. There were woman who were old as 30 [chuckles] old ladies. There were people who had majored in all kinds of different things, and the jobs they went onto afterwards were fabulous. One of my classmates had a seat on Wall Street. She was fabulous, Marilyn whatever her name was. And people worked for Bergdorf Gord-Goodman, Bergdorf Goodman as a buyer. Ah Jane, became the alumni, alumni director of Radcliffe before it amalgamated with Harvard. Interesting people. And it was a fabulous year. We had classes for a while then we had the first internship program, and I was sent to a--if I say Raytheon it was, it may have been Raytheon factory where I assembled the starters in the ends of a fluorescent tube. Did you even know there was one there? [laughs] Ah I am not dexterous. I never was dexterous and I tell you my experience on an assembly line where dexterity counted was so interesting. Because I didn't, I was not the star, I was the one that was holding them back. I was the bum. I was the rich girl from the college who was interfering, and the task was to win over my place in this --you know. Nobody said this, but that was the idea, to see what I could do in a situation like this. And it turned--and in the midst of this Russ has graduated from college and gone into the Army, and in the midst of this he came home to say good-bye to everybody when he went to Korea. And those were pretty bad scary days 16 so it was kind of a tough month in lots of ways. So he went off and I finished the st--this job and then went back and had some more classes and then in the spring this whole bunch of us got sent down to New York City where I worked for B. Altman which is, you remember which was a big. I had wonderful time doing that. I worked in their personnel office interviewing employees who had grievances and all kinds of things like this. It was very interesting. SY: And so you were living in New York on your own? CT: Well we, but we all had to live in a female hotel. Did you even know there was such thing? On 34th Street. And we lived there, just for a month. We were just there for a month and then we came back and had some more classes and finished up, I suppose in June. Meanwhile the recruiters are coming out and looking to recruit some of us and I got a job offer to be a personnel assistant at Mill Parr Incorporated which was an electronics research firm in Alexandria, Virginia. Well I knew what research was. But electronic research was really, I had no idea what they were talking about. It was such an experience. So I moved down to Virginia because I had a good friend who lived there and I could stay with Betty. And eventually worked there until Russ came home from Korea and we were married not too long afterwards. But it was a wonderful experience. SY: Do you want to get some water? CT: Yeah I think I'll just have sip here. SY: So do you remember -- did you see him off before he went for Korea? Do you remember, did you talk about if he didn't come back? Like what were the conversations? CT: Oh no, nope, no. He took me out to dinner at a local hotel, Hawthorne Hotel in Salem, which is nice hotel. And we had gone a lot of times I guess, well I don't know. But I just remember that we sat there and looked at each other and no we didn't. And I think we both knew that it was a go but we just had to wait. And I had told him before and he had asked me a million times to marry him and I said, "no, no, I got things to do, I got things to do." And I said, "I've done some things, you know, I'm good." I just had to fulfill that part of me I guess is what it comes down to and talking to you about it helps me clarify for myself what I was doing. I was just needing to know who I was, I could do things, I could succeed, not only academically but I could succeed when you put that thing to work. If not in the eyes of everybody but for myself I knew that I was good to go, you know, I could do things. SY: Yeah you had to live on your own in the world for a little while. CT: Yeah, and my mother who interestingly enough had gone down to Smith too and graduated in 20-in 1913. She was determined that both my sister and I would have that background, you know, that we'd be able to be on ourselves if we needed to be that we could be strong women, yeah. SY: Yeah it's important to know.17 CT: Yeah. SY: You never gonna know what's gonna happen in life and she'd certainly had enough upsets in her life to know that you needed to be able to make it on your own. Um, I had a question that I just lost. Okay so you're living in Alexandria by yourself, are you guys engaged at that point? CT: Nope. Nope. Russ called me from Kor--no not from Korea from Japan. They had R&R in Japan and he called me up and said he would be home on the (I don't know--I've forgotten it was January something) I said great and he said, "Well would you come to New York and meet me?" His parents by then had moved and were living in Scarsdale, New York. And he said, "Come, you know, spend the weekend at the folks." I said, "I will and let me know when," and he said, "I will." And we just talked a little bit. And said, well that's what happened. I guess we were past having to really verbalize a lot you know? We knew what we were doing. We just had, I had to grow up, time had to pass. People would say, "How could you date somebody for so long?" and I said, "Well we didn't date exclusively," We--oh he used to date a friend of mine, not a friend, a woman I knew that I couldn't stand, and I swear he dated her just to make me mad, you know. It was alright. and I dated this guy Jim Ricker a couple of times and he was practically engaged to somebody else. It didn't matter. It was something else. And I dated some guys from MIT who were a funny bunch. We just needed to have some experiences before we settled down is what it comes to. SY: But it sounds like you also knew that that was eventually where you were going. CT: Yeah. SY: Yeah. Oh this is what I was going to ask. In his oral history interview he talks about how he was kind of messing up and not doing so well in school at first and how you were like "you get it together, or we're done." Is that true? CT: Yeah it's true. Let's see when that was. I don't know exactly but it was in the summertime and I was staying at my grandmother's house which because they had what they called a maid's room upstairs. They used to have, they used to have full time help of course nobody did then. A wonderful bathtub with claw feet you know. But anyway so I was staying there. So he came down and we went out to play tennis one afternoon and we were hitting balls around and I finally said to him, "You know if you don't settle down and get some good grades and make some sense out of going to college," I said, "I just am not going to marry a loser. This is just ridiculous, you know you've just got to." And he just [sounds of bickering] and he was furious. He was mad and I was mad and he went home. He went back to New Hampshire or wherever he came from and then after that he's always done well academically. Because he just, he was acting like Maggie like our granddaughter I told you about. He was just having "such a good time." SY: At those fraternities? CT: Yeah. And in the military part of it. He really liked that, you know. 18 SY: Yeah. So okay, so you've been working on your own, right? You get married and suddenly your whole life changes. So what's your new life like? How do you learn what you're supposed to be doing? What the expectations are being married to him? What's his rank at that point? CT: Second lieutenant. SY: Second lieutenant, okay. CT: Or maybe first, he may have been a first lieutenant by the time we've, yeah he was. He'd gotten promoted in Korea. See he was over there during the worst of Korea and he…. SY: And did you know what was going on with him over there? CT: He wrote letters all the time. SY: And were they honest? CT: No, no not really, no. Just as well. He had a classmate that was killed you know? Somebody from Norwich, Pete DiMartino, maybe his name was. Be sure to ask him to tell you sometime because we should remember that. No not really. I just trusted him. I wasn't, he's been in a lot of bad scrapes and I never really have worried about him. I just trust him to know what to do. He has more common sense than most people I know, and he wouldn't try to second guess something, he'd do what was right. And he'd rather do what's right and fail and do what's wrong, you know. And he had a strong sense of doing the right thing and he did. Has he told you about how he won a Silver Star? SY: No. I haven't but I haven't interviewed him yet, so I've read other people's interviews. CT: But do make, be sure that he does tell you that. Because he never tells people. He won a Silver Star in Korea at a very young man. SY: So okay, so you're, where do you get married? CT: Oh where'd we get married? We got married in Beverly at home. At the church around the corner where I grew up. And some of these same people that I told you I had known in kindergarten were bridesmaids, plus Russ's sister who's a bit younger, then my sister too. It was really nice, it was the kind of wedding people had then where we had the wedding at the church and then walked back to the house and had a reception in the backyard with beautiful garden that we discovered florists will help you make if your garden isn't looking so well and you want to have a party. You call the florist and they bring in big pots of things and dig them in. Most gorgeous garden you ever saw. It was all gone the next day or the day after they just dug. It was fabulous and yeah, we had a good time. We went on a honeymoon down to Cape Cod where some other cousins had a cottage at the beach at a tow--place that's now called New Seabury but I know it's near Barnstable I think. But anyway we went there and had a nice time. And then we drove 19 out to Fort Knox and I'll tell you that summer I had been hot in my life but nothing like that humidity, you know? I thought this place is the pits. One of the wedding presents, he'd love to tell you this story. One of the wedding presents we got was a hand mixer, but it was so hot in that house he said, "I'm going to take the hand mixer and I'm gonna make us a window fan." I said, "Russ you cannot make a window fan out of a hand mixer," and you said, "You watch me." I don't know what he did. It had do with baking pans and ice cubes and the motor from this poor little hand mixer which can turn two little beaters. Well we laughed so hard we almost died laughing. But it helped not at all, but he had a great time thinking he could fix it for me you know. SY: Taking care of you that way. It's very sweet [laughs]. CT: I have learned to say when he tells me about a new invention, "ah I don't think so." [both laugh] He's usually right. He fixed something yesterday. He's a good fixer. It has to do with being so practical and having such good common sense. I don't ever fix anything I just "oh look it's broken," you know. SY: So what did you do during the day because he was working on the base? What were you doing? CT: What did I do? SY: During that time….? CT: Gosh I don't know. We lived next door. Well one of the fun things we lived next door to young George Patton and his wife Joanne who we have been so fond of all these years. And well that's one of the things I did now come to think of it. Joanne had gone to fancy place for her honeymoon, so I think that is not a good thing to do. She'd gone I think they had gone I think to Bermuda. I think they'd gone to Bermuda and she had gotten rheumatic fever. I think that's it. I think it was Bermuda but I may be wrong but I think so. And so she had to go to the hospital because she was really sick. Well the hospital was not air conditioned naturally. So one of the things that her husband George who had no common sense you may know, he decided that we would provide her with cold drinks and it would be nice if I could help with this. I said sure. So he had a pitcher and I, we still have one like this, a pitcher that has an insert so you put ice cubes in the middle and then you. So about every so often I had to run over and change her ice cubes [laughs] but I was glad to do that. I really liked her and I still do. She was a good, she's almost 3 years younger than we are, maybe more. She'd just graduated from college when they were married. Oh so many funny stories about them. Gosh, well anyway we had a good time. I also had this friend, this Jane Nutting that I mentioned before, who I'd known from before and she was my friend. And there was a girl named Ann something lived across the street who was pregnant and that was kind of fun watching her because we were all pregnant because that's what you did then. SY: So you were pregnant? 20 CT: I was pregnant right away. Char—Tom was born in April, so. But I didn't feel sick or I didn't have any problems for a while, all through the summer. And then I came down with something that I still have because it's a really funny disease. It's called erythema nodosum which you may never heard of because most of the doctors I've run into also say they never heard of it. But it's an allergic reaction to catching a cold in the spring or the fall. In that first fall I caught a cold and then my legs, and I didn't have it as much in my arms as on my legs would break out in huge areas of black and blue. And every time a new area popped out my temperature would rise and I would look like I was sick. Well I wasn't sick it was just until that black and blue got established. Then my temperature went down and I went on my merry way. But because I was pregnant they were sure something dreadful was wrong with me. Well it wasn't and somebody finally must have checked in the medical dictionaries and found out what this was, and decided not to worry about me because I had it then and I've probably over the years had it 5 or 6 times. Which is in the spring and in the fall if I get a cold I make every effort to get rid of it right away because I don't want to go into the next stage. And I haven't had one now for a long long time. But that was that was part of it and so the first Christmas that we were married Russ's sister Jane, who was young, a bit younger, was teaching school in New York state somewhere and she said, "I think I'll come down and spend Christmas with you so you won't be so lonely." Wonderful. So she came and flew down to Kentucky and we got her a date with a British foreign officer who was there attending a class, who fell head over hands in love with Jane. Jane was appalled really his name was Anthony, "really," she said. He kept saying to her, "Oh I want to take you back to England with me. You'll love my mom." My mom, and her woollies and her tea and I don't know, Jane was, she kept saying, "I'll stay until Christmas, but I got to go home." We had parties, lots and lots of parties in those days in the neighborhood next door and parties were just people getting together and bringing your own beer, you know, and maybe somebody would get some crackers and cheese out but no big deals. And then the units would have parties and you'd get invited to the post to a party. Meanwhile Russ has gotten to be the aide-de-camp to the commanding general, partially because George Patton's mother, Mrs. Patton - darling, darling lady - had come to visit. And one of the funniest memories I have of that early summer, Joanne's in the hospital with rheumatic fever. I'm running around trying to take Mrs. Patton to where she wants to go. She doesn't have a car. So every time she needs to go somewhere, "Oh Carol would you mind running me?" "No, I'd be glad." So one day she came over to our house and she said, "I am just too exhausted, so can I just sit in here and visit with you?" I said, "Certainly, Mrs. Patton." Well my mother and aunt had given me an old two-seater couch that must have belonged to I don't know who, whose springs had long since lost their elasticity. She was a little tiny lady, she sat down and disappeared. So that she was sitting with her knees up around her -- you know how people do it? I thought, "Oh this is so bad!" Well I said, "wouldn't you like to sit," I had one decent chair, "Wouldn't you like to sit here in my wing chair would you like to sit here? I would be so happy to you know." "Oh, no, no, this is fine." So she sat there until Russ came home from work for lunch. Because they came home for lunch and he said, "Oh hi Mrs. Patton, what are you 21 doing in the hole there? Can I help you up?" "No, I'm fine." So she said, "What's up with you?" and he said, "Well they just they asked me if I want to be aid to a General Collier." And she said, "Oh good idea, aren't you excited about." And he said, "I don't know if I should be doing that or not." And she said, "You should, you should, it's a good thing to do." She said, "Go upstairs and put on a clean uniform while Carol gets your lunch on, I'm going home now and you just be your natural self. You'll get chosen." Well of course that's exactly what happened and he did it for the next year or so. But I'll never forget her sitting there in that yellow couch with her knees, oh how I felt bad. But she was always friends with us ever since, and when Tom was born she sent him a lovely baby present. And well then she went home and Joanne Patton's mother came who also is a general officer's wife but instead of being the kind you'd put in your broken couch. She was Mrs. Holbrook and she was a bit fancier. By then I'd caught on, you see, and I managed to keep her sitting in the good chair. But she used to come over all the time and it was the same sort of thing. She'd come over and say, "I do need to run down to the PX," or "My friend Peggy so and so is having a coffee would you mind dropping me off?" well it was lucky that Russ - I don't know how I got the car, Russ must have gone in with a friend knowing that I needed to, because we lived about 2 miles from where the guys were working. Oh it was a hoot but that was one of the things I did that summer and that maybe is how I learned about the community you know come to think of it. This is such a good experience for me too, I'm thinking about these things that are more critical. Maybe that's how I learn this is what you do when people need you, you fill in and do what you need. And it's fun as long as you, I didn't have anything else to do you know. That was good and I wore all my, I can remember wearing one of the dresses I had from my trousseau, a really pink really nice beautiful cotton dress and I decided to put it on one day because we were going to drop off Mrs. Holbrook I guess at an event. She was going to a coffee and could I come back at x hours let's say 11:30 to take her home again. Okay. Don't--nobody says would you like to come in, or I'd like to introduce you to my friend, no no. So I come back at the appropriate hour and I park where she told me to park and I wait and I wait and I wait. By and by all the ladies come out, the coffee it's over, and they're leaving and getting into their cars and she walks across the street and interestingly enough her hostess--oh I can see her now--she walked with her. They came over to the car and Mrs. Holbrook jumps in but her hostess says, "Oh Carol," she said, "You're so kind to take," what's her name home and all this. I said, "I'm very glad to do that," and she said, "And what does your husband do in the Army? And what does your husband do in the Army my dear?" And my dear cleverly remembered and I said, "Well he's working as an assistant instructor at the Armored School," or whatever it was. And she said, "Oh that is so interesting. My husband works for the same Armored School." Course he was the commander, you know, and she said, "I was hoping he has a wonderful time with…" She was so gracious as compared to what the other side was doing. I thought even then I thought "ha ha this is what makes a difference" you know. She was so gracious and she was so sweet to me when she had no reason to be, you know?22 SY: And do you think she said something to her husband too? Do you think like your relationships with women and other wives in some ways helped your husband's career? Is that the way it worked? CT: If so I don't know. I don't know, maybe, maybe, but I don't know. SY: If you'd been rude it might have hindered his career? CT: Well that's right. "Oh boy he married a dud," yeah. And in a way, in a way it was interesting because most of the lieutenant's wives were college graduates. Most were. I'm trying to think of anybody who wasn't. Either that or heiresses, a couple of them were really very wealthy ladies who whenever they had a party served champagne, yeah champagne this is [inaudible]. But that's right but that marriage didn't last either that's interesting. She's the only person I ever knew who got infected by dropping a pickle, a pickle fork that she was polishing on her foot when she had no shoes on. It went [makes dropping sound] and she didn't pay any attent--I thought now that is a odd thing to happen to somebody. SY: That's a strange injury. CT: But I haven't forgotten it have I? SY: And you're careful with your pickle forks I bet. CT: Never polish a pickle fork is the answer. SY: Clearly. Alright note to self. CT: If you could even find one. SY: Yeah I was just gonna say. CT: Yeah, long time ago. This is way back in the 19, early 1950s and the Army was a different game than it is now. It was a different game. It was, it was always good that Russ had graduated from Norwich. Always, it always was even so long ago. And now it's really, but when Russ got to be a general officer he was the first one in years and years and President Hart was so thrilled because they hadn't had anybody promoted in a long time. SY: Yeah. Okay so then where do you go next? I mean we don't need to go through every one of your placements. CT: Oh I can't. SY: But I guess where were the places you liked best? And what were the places you liked least? CT: And people ask me that too and I can't help but say the same thing that has sort of been my whole life. I seem to be pretty adjustable or limp I don't know which it is. But wherever I am at the time for the most part I'm fine, I'm just fine. Ah we had a really bad 23 experience - our Tom was born as I said the next April, cute little guy and he was fine and life went along until the spring when he was (in January he would have been what 8 or 9 months old) and he was learning to crawl. And I was in the kitchen, I don't know, just fixing something for dinner. Russ was reading the newspaper, watching the baby, and the baby crawled across the floor. We didn't even know he could crawl this much you know, we just had plunked him down. He crawled across the floor and I had started a coffee pot. We used to call them a Silex pot, they had [oops] two sort of bulbs, the water went "brrrp" went up into the top and then dripped down. And I had started a pot of coffee for our dinner and he heard this noise I'm sure, crawled across thought: "Hmm what is this?" and saw the cord hanging down, you know, like this. Put his hand on the cord and it broke open on the back of his neck. Ah we picked him up rushed him to the hospital and they had moved the emergency room the week before or something. Of course we didn't, who pays attention to stuff like, so we got to the hos--we got to the right place and the person, the doctor on duty was a dentist. Nicest man you'd want to know but he was no surgeon and he said, "I'm going to I'm going to have to cut off this beautiful handmade sweater this child has got on." I said, "Why not, oh yes." He said, "I'll ruin the sweater." I said, "Ruin the sweater," you know. He was in the hospital -- it was January 13. He was in the hospital in the hospital for about--his birthday, probably until the first of April. Had numerous, not transfusions, but trans--what do they call it? When they take your skin from one place put it….? SY: Transplants CT: Transplants, numerous transplants. He was just a baby. They had never worked on baby before at Fort Knox. The doctor was terrific, the surgeon, he got on the telephone with the same burn center I told you about before where Steven was in San Antonio. This is 50 years before and tells, says, "Okay, when you go to do the transplant you get on the phone with me. I'll take you through it step by step and you can do this, you can do this." And if you just see my son right now without a shirt on all you'd see is a ring around his back like this where they hooked on the transplant. Everything took and he's fine. He's never had a minute's problem with his, they took all the skin off his chest and put it on his back. They took it all off his thigh and put it on his arm. This arm unfortunately after he'd been, it turned out alright, but after he'd been in there awhile all bandaged up with catheter tubes running though it to keep his wounds soaking wet so they could work on him. They said to me, "Say Mrs. Todd. Funny little thing on your son's arm," he said, "What is that?" I said, "I don't know," "What do you mean what do you mean what is it?" he said, "It's looks as though he might have had a vac" I said, "Oh yes he had his vaccination done just before this happened." And they said, "Well you are the luckiest people in the world because it has festered and scabbed over, and all this water running through it has not opened the scab. If it was he'd have generalized vaccinia all over his whole body." But he didn't, he didn't, worked out fine. He barely has a tiny little mark there now. He's a great big 60 year old man with, you would never know. It was just if and they were so good to us and we stayed in a private room in that hospital at Fort Knox with him. One of us was with him all the time except when people began to say "We can 24 stay with him. We can keep him happy." He was-he is a very good natured person. He still is, he's very patient and even as a baby he would just lie there and look at, you know, we had a thing what do you call it, twirly thing over his head so he could…. SY: A mobile… CT: Mobile, yeah and he had a music box that he loved. I bet I used to wind that thing endlessly and as long as there was a little music going he'd be quiet. SY: You must have been beside yourself though with worry? CT: We were, we were, yeah. But people were very supportive. He was working for General Collier and Mrs. Collier used to come and babysit him. She said, "I'll stay with him. Go get your haircut or something. Run around the block. Get some fresh air. Do something." It was a long winter. And yeah, yeah. And then he came home from the hospital. He could not sit up he could not stand up of course. SY: Oh because he missed all those developmental milestones? CT: Within 2 weeks he was not only sitting up he was pulling up and he was walking in a month and he was, he just made it all up in no time at all. It was amazing. SY: And I assume, I mean he was so young he doesn't have any memories of that time? CT: None. SY: Okay. CT: The only thing he remembers is the last doctor we saw during this said to us, "When he is," I think 12 was the age, I remember 12, "I want you to take him to a plastic surgeon and have them check out these sites and there may be a place where they'll feel it needs to be repaired." They said, "We can't guarantee this will last him his lifetime." But he said, "Take him and the guy they'll know." So we were living in Germany at the time and we took him to a, wherever this was, Stuttgart to the hospital where the surgeon was, and explained the story to him. And he said, "Okay. Okay little guy come on over here. Can you climb on my lap? Sure." He loved to climb up into your lap and they played and talked and you know made his arms and legs go and he said, "If I throw a ball down the hall, will you run and get it?" he said, "Sure," so they threw it down the hall and he ran down. He was not that old, he was near 6 because he was still, and he ran down the hall picked up the ball and came back and the guy said, "Everything he's got, every muscle moves the way it's supposed to. He's fine," He said, "There's no indication to do anything." He said, "if the time comes when he gets psychotic about it, and hates the fact." He hasn't looked at his back, how often do you look at your back? Like never. He has no more and his legs and place and his chest they grew back, it all grew back. He's fine. Isn't that funny? It's wonderful. We used to say to each other that if we ever had to pay for this in a private hospital Russ would have had to get out of the Army and get a big paying job or something because the bills must have been huge. 25 SY: But they took care, it was all taken care of? CT: It was 7 dollars a week to keep him in the hospital because you had to pay for the food. Well he ate 2 jars of chopped liver, I don't know what it was they were eating you know. We were worried. On the other hand, you know I think it had gone past, we couldn't worry anymore and we had to have faith that they were gonna and I think having a good attitude helps in all these things. SY: You don't have time to be filled with anxiety. You just have to do it. CT: No, no, that's right. SY: Yeah. CT: And and neither of the girls ever had anything serious so we were fortunate, yeah. SY: Now, Phyllis Greenway has some crazy stories of you know of her husband you know her being I don't remember where they were maybe it was Fort Knox and her husband being assigned to Hawaii and her having to fly across the country with all of her stuff and the baby and do all this stuff by herself. Did you have experiences like that of just sort of having to manage these moves alone? CT: Oh yeah lots. Yeah. The first move overseas Russ had gone in the fall and I went in probably in mid-December and took Tom. He was, let's see. Yeah and he was fine by then. This was, but he had the cutest little red snowsuit with a little head and we, he and I went down to Fort Hamilton which is Staten Island maybe, and went out with a group of Army wives in a chartered flight. But we swear that the pilot had a date in Paris because we flew to Paris and they put the plane down and it was 6 or 8 hours before he came back. And we thought, "Just a minute, just a minute, we need to go Heidelberg, get over here!" and then we flew on to Frankfurt or wherever it was, yeah. But yeah and then lots of times when we moved I moved I would be -- they seemed to have a way of finding they have to be somewhere else when the. But the one thing I insisted on was that somebody else was gonna do something else with the equipment like the TV and anything else that had a cord that I didn't know how to wind up and put an elastic around sort of thing. I said, "If you can't do it, you got to get one of your buddies to come and help me. I'm just not gonna fool with this stuff." And it got more and more complicated as the older we. And the last person who ever was the one who got tapped to come and do that was John Greenway. When he was Russ's deputy he came and organized all my stuff when it was, when we were moving from Fort Hood to Georgia I guess to Fort MacPherson, yeah. SY: That's funny you guys have known each other for a long time. CT: Oh yeah we knew them well before that. Phyllis is a wonderful cook. I hope you've talked to her about that. SY: I have actually. And she's made motions about having me over to dinner. So I should remind her of that. And she has all that beautiful French cookware too [laughs].26 CT: She does and she's a good cook. SY: I believe that we talked about cooking a little. I'm trying to think because there's this, you know there's so much to talk about here and I don't want to skip over important milestones but we should also probably get to Norwich huh? CT: I think so. Well time passes [both laugh] and um let's see…. SY: Oh well let's talk about volunteering. So you begin to take on this sort of professionalized volunteer role it seems like the Army started to recognize that what you were doing was critical. So could you talk about that? CT: That's absolutely true and I'm trying to think where we were. I think it was those years we lived in France, '63 to '66. We lived oh goodness this is so--I'm gonna have to write a book. So it was such an interesting thing. We lived on the French economy. Fortunately my lessons came swirling back standing me in good stead because our youngest Ellen went to French school, the words I didn't know she probably did which was handy. But we had, we lived in a really nice house. Odd situation but it was nice and you could walk to the over to post. And during those years there were lots of young enlisted people who lived in very difficult places. They didn't speak French, they didn't know the people, and the Army Community Services began to be formed to offer assistance. You had to come on post but there were buses that ran around the community that brought people and we taught things like how to run a, do a checkbook. We taught people very basic things - here's where to find out how to buy food, you know the things that you want, here are the words in French. If you can't get to the commissary and you do go to a, here are the things in a French grocery store that you can buy that are gonna be almost exactly like you'd buy at home if you buy this, you know. It's just very very basic things but even before that, even before I had Tom I had developed somehow a reputation of being somebody who could give talks to other groups of women about really simple stuff. And it started out being with Army etiquette. That was way back when, way way back before I had any children, that first year because I knew one of the colonel's wives. I don't know how well I knew Betty Chandler or how I knew her but I did know her and she said, "Well you know could you do this?" So I started giving these talks which has led me to feeling more comfortable addressing groups of people. Particularly if it's about something I know something about. Tough when you don't, but you can usually fake it some [laughs] and then call on so and so to fill in the gaps or something. But that's really how I started doing this and then time passes and I'm always volunteering to do something. Some things I loved doing, some things I was terrible at. I really really was not good at working in a hospital. I have to go to the hospital you have to make me well if I'm sick. I will be nice to, you know, but I don't want to be there. I really did not like being a Gray Lady but that's what they used to call them Gray Ladies. For one thing you had to wear these awful gray dresses. They were made of heavy, heavy cotton and every time you went it had to be starched and cleaned. Well I couldn't afford sending mine to the cleaners so the day before I went I'd spend, you know, starching and ironing this thing. Well the whole thing was absurd so that I decided that was no good. 27 But I could do things like teach somebody how to balance a checkbook. I could talk to people about the basics of baby care and this sort of thing, and so I was glad to do it. But I began to realize as many, many senior people did the longer you're in this game how great the need is help other people use volunteers well. And how important it is that volunteers be used with compassion and common sense so that the gift that they're giving you of their time and talents and everything else are maximized for their benefit and yours. Because when you go and do something as a volunteer for somebody and come home feeling disappointed or abused it's no good. It doesn't have to be that way and that's how I got into this volunteer administration role which eventually is what became the sort of the climax of my time doing this. I worked in thrift shops, I worked every sort of thing, organized all kinds of events in this sort of thing but the best thing I really think I did was begin to show them how important it was that the people who manage and lead volunteer programs have an understanding of some of the basics. Such as a volunteer needs to have a job description. A what? I said a job description. You don't need it be very long, it does not have to be complicated, but if you ask someone to do a task you have to know what the parameters of this job are. Ah amazing! Ah and because of this I wound up going with Joanne Patton as it turned out to Colorado to the University of Colorado at Boulder, and that's a wonderful place, to go through a summer program and I did it twice with her about how to help people become good volunteer managers. And that woman's name was Marlene Wilson and she wrote the first book ever for volunteer managers - and I think I've still got my tattered copy in there - in about 1980. And so it really was during the time that we were here that I began to do more and more of that. And I think that may be one of the contributions I made was generally to people I ran into I kept trying to say, "Let's get this straight. Exactly what are they supposed to do? How are you going to thank them down the road? Is there a chance that they could be the boss of this? They could be the team leader? Or no." Those things need to be thought through and you need to put the whole task in language that everybody feels comfortable with. SY: Yeah what was the assignment that the chief of staff gave you in Europe? CT: [chuckles] Well that's right. That was the last time, that was in late '70s before we came here in '82. They began to realize how important this sort of thing was, so they asked me to take this assignment to, on behalf of the Army, to go around the various places where Americans were stationed and talk about this with the commander and the commander's wife and anybody else would listen, and some of the volunteers to be sure people were having a good experience volunteering. And I wrote a quarterly newsletter for them about what was going in Bad--what's her name over here in Frankfurt or Heidelberg just sort of encourage people and just say we were all in this together and we're trying to make life better for all of us here as volunteers and it's worth it to do it. And you met with various levels of success but it was worth doing, it really was. SY: And did you also see gaps in the kind of Army infrastructure? CT: Oh yeah. 28 SY: Yeah, yeah, what did you notice? What did you? CT: I noticed that there would be places where the commander and his wife could care less about the situation. And perhaps there were needs for transportation for one thing, so that people who lived what we called on the economy, lived out in the community, could not easily get -- if the husband went off to a duty somewhere else or on the "into the field" as we used to say to do exercises, the wife would be stuck out in the. So we used to talk about setting up transportation networks, you know, could Mrs. X contact Mrs. Y and they could work out something together or not. Or do we need to work on finding some way that a bus goes around talks to people, yeah. That was one of them. But mostly there was a tremendous, very, very nice response to my interest. And because I was doing it sort of with a little bit of authori--I didn't mean authority, but people knew that they were supposed to listen. And I enjoyed doing that. And that made it very easy for me to move into the role that I had here because it's the same thing, or least it was the same thing. SY: And that's actually a question, how do you think you -- I mean the first lady of Norwich, the president's wife, that role of being sort of the president's wife - how did you conceptualize it? And how do you think you conceptualized it differently than the women who'd come before you? CT: I knew Marilyn Hart and we must talk about this again before we go further. I knew Marilyn Hart because they used to come and visit us a good deal. Wherever we were there would be Norwich events and often, I don't know often but enough that I felt like I really knew her. You know she's a really nice lady had 2 kids, got a son Matthew and a daughter whose name is I've forgotten I'm sorry to say. But and we would talk and visit I would take her on functions and things like that. And I knew darn well that I never could never fill the same function that she did. She had been a faculty wife. She had worked with him all the years helping him do things. I'm sure she corrected papers. I'm sure she did everything. She was really smart. But she had a fabulous memory a fabulous memory. I admired that so much. She would -- the receiving line he would be first and she would be second and any number of people, they could be students, they could be people from the State Department would come through, she would know who they were just from seeing them. And she would say to him, "Joe Smith, English class of '64, '64, he shoveled snow for you one time." And he would say, "Joe, remember the time you came and shoveled snow?" I could never do that. That wasn't, I couldn't do that. On the other hand she wasn't comfortable organizing a luncheon or saying, "I think we should do something or support." There was a woman here whose husband was the athletic director her name was Jen, his name was Wally Baines, her name was Jen Baines. And Jen wanted to have a faculty picnic twice a year. "Good. Let's do it." The Harts had the role in this, not of encouraging them and seeing people came and this sort of thing, but of sitting at the door with a checklist seeing who showed and who didn't show up. Well no matter what anybody thinks, no matter how much you might [inaudible] you gotta remember who showed and who didn't show up. It set things off in a bad note. So we29 said well we won't, we don't need to do that. So I'd say to Jen, "How many people you think are going to be there?" "Eighty-four." I said, "Eighty-four? Wow that's great. Just about everybody." I said, "Is everybody who might like to come, do they know about it?" She said, "Well I don't know about the people in physics." I said, "Well what should we ought to do?" I said. She'd say, "Well I ought to." "Or maybe you ought to call up somebody." I said, "I'll be glad to call up somebody just to be sure they know." That's nothing. That doesn't hurt anybody's feelings. I think I spent a lot of time sort of trying not to hurt people's feelings. SY: And easing things over, that makes a lot of sense. Yeah so that was a big part of your job, right? CT: Yeah it was, yeah. I'll tell you something else Marilyn Hart did which I think was amazing. She addressed a Christmas card to everybody on the University's list. I think there were 800 names on that list, not only people who worked here but people in town, people in Burlington. And the first year when they came to me at Christmastime and they said, "Here's your list," I said, "Give me a break here, what do you mean?" And they said, "No this is the job of the president's wife to address the Christmas cards." I said, "Then there won't be any this year. You don't want me doing it believe me you don't." They said, "Whose going to do it" and I said, "Don't ask me, I don't know. You'll have to figure it out." Since then somebody on the staff has just had to start addressing about in September. But you can do that, you know? You can address the envelopes anytime. SY: Yeah but that, you weren't, that wasn't the way you wanted to spend your time. CT: Oh I wasn't--I wouldn't even consider it yeah. SY: So talk about the role you did end up playing. The Peace Corps was pretty critical huh? CT: I wound up working almost working full time in lots of ways as a volunteer, because I was always a volunteer. It's what I did. SY: Though by the end you were getting paid, right? CT: Pardon me? SY: You were getting paid by the end, right? CT: Yeah, in a way. In a way. My hus--did I tell you? explain this to you? Yeah about how Russ took part of his salary and had it given to me instead. SY: So it was symbolic, but it seems important. CT: Well it, by that time it was to me, really, yeah. And I don't know how much the university knows about that. I, I don't care if they do or not. SY: It's the same money going to the same family I don't think it matters, but. 30 CT: Well it did because it helped my social security contributions. But not enough to do any difference. That was okay I was glad to--the whole business about the Peace Corps Prep Program started because I was very active in this Association for Volunteer Administration which was a national organization. Ah really a…a busy, a small organization, but a good organization for people who are in the same area, who are interested in making volunteerism not effective, effective is a good word for it is. And it was before we had national volunteering, before, it was when the Peace Corps was getting going, it was well before AmeriCorps and all this business was started. And these women met once a year and I eventually became the vice, one of the vice presidents for this and served on lots of committees I think because I come across as being efficient, reasonably efficient. And Chris Frankland who was the president asked me to fill out, fill in a second national role and I did that. And I really liked doing it, I liked the people I worked with. It isn't, the organization is now defunct. They made a big mistake in hiring an executive director that they didn't vet appropriately. The man wiped them out every single cent and disappeared and they never, they never could get going again. They had lost all their assets. SY: It's like Mr. Barry. CT: It is! it is! It's the same idea! It is the same idea! Oh my goodness, aren't you smart. I never thought of that. Ah yeah it is. Well anyway, but anyway so that's now defunct. But anyway, still I had these ideas that I should do this. But during the time that I was active in this association we had a national conference as we did each year, and I went and I honestly do not know whether it was in Buffalo or somewhere. But anyway someplace I'd never been and we were having a big luncheon and I was sitted, seated, next to one of the women who was to be a speaker whose name was Loret Miller Ruppe. And Loret Miller Ruppe was the head of the Peace Corps at that time and we were just [chatting sounds] you know just chit chatting, lady talk. And the speaker for the luncheon got up to speak and it was Father, Father Theodore Hesburgh who was the president of Notre Dame. And he essentially said he thought it was high time that higher education took on the role of training students to do volunteer work in the same way they chose to train young men and women to be part of the national service, part of the Army, Navy, Air Force, etcetera. And he said, it is just as much of a need for people to be trained to be good volunteers to head up volunteer organizations. I wish I had a copy of his speech, I never did, but that's essent--I listened to him I thought, "Oh my socks." Russ and I had talked about this ever and ever so many times since when he'd become president that one of roles he saw needed to be fulfilled, somebody needed to do something about the fact that the students who were not in the Corps, most of them at Vermont College in those days when we still owned Vermont but some of them down here in Northfield were not having the same opportunity to become leaders as the people in the Corps were. They were not being given that opportunity to do something beyond themselves, to stretch, to learn the outside world. And he said, he said "I don't know," he said, "I just don't know how to do that." And I said, "Well I don't know how do that either." 31 But when he, Father Hesburgh did, I thought, "I know how to do this. I've got this idea." And I turned to Loret Miller Ruppe and I said, "Ma'am I think Norwich could do that." She said, "Carol, Norwich would be a perfect place to do it. Do you think you can?" and I said, "I'll ask," and I said, "Please don't say anything and I'll go and call and see." So I called Russ, got him out of a meeting and I said, "Don't say anything just listen," and I said, "I need to tell Mrs. Ruppe if we're gonna try." And he said, "We will." He said, "I'll find a way, we will." Well it must have been just before a board meeting because the next time the board met they said, "If you want to try it, go ahead." Meanwhile back at Norwich we have somebody who's a vice president named Peter Smith. Do you know Peter? Who he is? He had run for Congress from Vermont. Well there's more to it than that but anyway and been defeated. No, wrong, he had become a congressman. He, I'm not sure about his career. He had either been in--no he hadn't been in Congress at that point, he had been the lieutenant governor of Vermont. And he had written a Ph.D. thesis on Vermont College which was terribly interesting for Russ to learn when he took on. He knew about Norwich when he took on the job, he didn't know. SY: Why, I wonder what his thesis was about? CT: About the fact that Vermont College had absorbed all those programs from Goddard which is about as far off block as Norwich is you know they're kinda [chuckles]. Well it was a big job to try and pull all this together, but we were giving it a go. So he said, so I called Russ and he said yes to it. The board said yes to it. Peter Smith meanwhile said, "Let me see what I can do about getting you a grant." Good thinking. He got us FIPSE grant, do you know what FIPSE? The Fed, now the Federal, no the Fund for the Improvement of Post-Secondary Education, Department of Education. If I was smart enough I could have told you the amount but I don't remember but he got us a grant to get started. Now if I had taken a salary we wouldn't have had much money left so I was, I didn't need anything. So we had some money and I made up out of whole cloth as best as I could a program that looked like ROTC training but wasn't, was focused on various on other things, which one of them was learning how to manipulate, to act in a culture that was not your own. This was one of the things and having appreciation for others, for other communities. And so it took a while to get this thing sort of organized and once I got a program sketched out I had to go before a committee of the faculty to get their approval. Can you imagine? I was a wreck, but I thought, "Okay I can do this." So I went before the committee and I made my little talk and do you know David Westerman? Oh Professor Westerman, David Westerman he's a geologist. But he's also the guy who is the head of the program at the University for Student Research. You guys really need to be aware of this. SY: Oh you know his name's been mentioned to me because he also collected some geology artifacts I think. CT: Oh I'm sure. SY: Yeah, okay. 32 CT: I think he goes to South America and brings home chips of stuff. I don't what he does. He is the most understanding, thoughtful, articulate. He's, I'm a big of David West--. David Westerman was on that committee and he said, "Well Carol, I'll tell you what, I think you've got some good ideas." He said, "You need to smooth it out a bit but I say you're a go." And he met with the rest of the committee and I said "What did they say?" "Oh sure, good, approved." And I thought, "Oh, he saved my life." I mean he just and then he was helpful in giving me some ideas. And what I'd really like to do is to, maybe another time when we get together is to get into your records, what it was the program looked like. It was a 2 year program for anyone who is not in the Corps. That's all you had to be, not in the Corps. You had to be any elsewhere. And you took classes and you did internship in the summer. And the internships were on Indian reservations. I can remember somebody went overseas on their own ticket to get into something, you know. I really have lost a lot of the details but I spent about 2 years maybe 3 working on this. And one of the big things I had to do which was very helpful was send reports into this FIPSE organization. They assigned a women, I'm sure I'll remember her name if I think of it long enough. She wanted a report from me every Friday. Well I couldn't do it. I finally got to every other Friday, you know you'd spent too much time writing the report then actually out doing something which got to be kind of old. But with their support we were able to get this thing rolling. We were able to hire former Peace Corps volunteers to act as professors. And one of them was Don Hooper. Does that mean anything to you? He lives here. Do you know Don and Alison Hooper? SY: You mentioned it to me, yeah. CT: They make the wonderful cheese, goat cheese, Chèvre. Well anyway I'm sure that somewhere I've got the list of who those people were. Then it got to the point where it had gotten too much and there was enough money left in the FIPSE pot to hire a director, which we did. And it worked reasonably well. But when my husband's time here was over and President Schneider came and things changed there was, I don't know how to put it, it just didn't work out anymore. And they had not been a big success. There hadn't been hundreds of students flocking to it. Every once and awhile you'll hear about somebody from the, from Norwich that goes into the Peace Corps. The Peace Corps itself is not what it was. It's nowhere near as near well-funded. They don't have the leadership of somebody like Loret Miller Ruppe. You know things change. But it wasn't a bad idea, it wasn't a bad idea. SY: No it's a really good idea. So because you know you can go into Peace Corps without previous training right? CT: Absolutely. SY: So this was just to create more effective Peace Corps volunteers? So it was sort of an auxiliary program to the Peace Corps training that would follow? Was it sort of like a? CT: Well no they weren't that interested in it but it was a way of encouraging people to do this kind of service, and to do it effectively. Yeah that's right. And there were people 33 that were int--there was a guy named Mike Kim and Michael Kim was one of these ones who went through it and he eventually became a priest interestingly. SY: I'm interviewing him next week. [interview pauses and resumes] SY: So what were we, what were we talking about? Oh yeah so another thing I read in your husband's oral history was that when you first got up here it must have been mud season, looking at the place you were like, "I don't know about this?" CT: Well of course I'd been up here a lot as a student. But then you're sort of rose colored glasses, you know. But the day that we drove up here to be interviewed for the job it was March at its most March-like, and as we came down the road, which was not this lovely access road we have now from 89. Oh no, twisty turny. There was a cow - did he tell you about this? There was a cow standing beside the side of the road behind a fence. Literally it was up to its udder in the mud and I thought, "Russell," I said, "We cannot live here. This is just awful." He said, "Oh for heaven's sakes. It's just one cow…" I said, and I thought to myself, "Okay, if…" I knew he wanted the job so much. He would have loved, he always hoped he could get the job to be the facilities manager here because he said, "I could love fixing it up." He said, "Never mind, we'll get a facilities manager to fix it up." He said, "Oh this is going to be so great." I thought, "Uh huh." So we came to the interview and we stayed in guest quarters where at the time where the infirmary is, not the new one the old one. And as I told somebody once long ago and I thought it was rather apt, it smelled like your grandmother's cottage after it had been shut up for the winter you know that awful musty [sniffing sound], "Oh it's getting worse here by the minute." And then Jackie and Jerry Painter who you don't know they live in Micminnville Oregon, he was the treasurer, they came and picked us up in their lovely new Buick and it made all the difference in the world. We had a wonderful, fun dinner and they had us in stitches laughing it was so friendly and nice and it was, I thought, "Okay, we can do this. This will be alright. We can clean up the guest quarters. We can do this." Then we were interviewed and I don't remember much about the interview except when we were all siting around. Nobody interviewed me much I don't think. I don't know what I did. But finally Ken Smith, who you don't know, he's dead now but and you wouldn't know. But nice, nice guy, said, "and now General Todd I see that you have no Ph.D." Russ said, "That is correct." And Ken Smith said, "and what do you intend to do about and when will you be getting your Ph.D.?" And my husband said, "I intend to do nothing and the answer is never. Any more questions? No, alright we'll move on." But Ken Smith became his dear, dear friend just a wonderful. Ken Smith could write one of those citations on a, on a, on some sort of a document or when you get an honorary degree, the citation, oh they were wonderful. His use of the English language was just gorgeous. I really loved him. He was great. But anyways so I really didn't like it much so I said, "Okay," if you get the--Oh and then we went to New York City to some lovely club I don't know where, to be interviewed by the board who was meeting there too to interview us the very same weekend because we had just come home from Europe to do this. Fortunately I had new Blylie suit so I was feeling very fine. I always bought a 34 new suit or a blouse if I was going to be in an interview and it seemed to help and I do advise that for interviews. So we went to New York and we got--and Russ was starving, you know if I'd get nervous I don't care if I ever eat. He just gets hungry and hungry. And so we went there and went into this interview and these people were all finishing their lunch and they said, "Have you had any lunch?" Russ said, "No, I haven't." And they said, "Let's get a menu for the Todds." I have no idea what I had, no idea at all. But he decided he'd have French onion soup. Can you imagine eating French onion soup? Nope. I thought, "Oh my God can you imagine so stupid to have?" well of course he managed to get the job and eat the soup at the same time. But it was, I thought, "French onion soup! Idiot!" [Laugh] So that and when we left that interview I knew it was a go. You know I knew it. They told us the next day or something but I felt really good about that. No it was longer than that. Because Russ went back to Europe and I stayed with mother because that's when Sarah was getting, our daughter was getting married about a month later so I stayed home. And George Patton called from the board meeting to tell Russ because we'd been friends for so long. And Russ was really pleased. And then he started getting ready to you know come, reading stuff. And it was a fairly in a way a hard transition because we'd left everything in the military, put it down, and we had a month off. And meanwhile I had taken a tumble somewhere and cracked my hip or something, so I was on Motrin when Motrin was brand new which was great. And we went to England, had a wonderful time in England. I had a friend who's not there now. Lived there, we spent some time and then we came home and then we came here. All pretty, we retired on one day and started here the next sort of thing. It was good. It was good. SY: Wow and then? CT: Loved the house. Was thrilled with the house on Central Street - you know where it is on top of the hill? Because my grandmother lived in a house not unlike that so I knew where the furniture was supposed to come, sort of thing. Oh I liked that house it was fun to live there. SY: And were you glad not to be moving? CT: No I don't mind moving. SY: You don't mind moving. And then clearly you've come to love Northfield and this area. CT: I know it! Oh so originally I said, "Okay now here's the deal. If they offer you this job 5 years, I will stay here 5 years because you'll have plenty of time for you to make an impression." But I said, "I don't," and he said, "Fine, should I tell them 5 years?" I said, "Tell them nothing, just know that I'm telling 5 years." You know "Okay." So after about 3 years he said, "Well now I'm going to have to tell them I'm leaving in 2 years." I said, "You're what? You're what?" I said, "No we live here." He said, "Alright we stay 5 more." I said "5 more." But I knew he was very certain from the beginning that 10 years was what he wanted to give, that he felt anything that could do he could do in 10 years. After that he was afraid he would not be effective. That was his rule to himself so I knew 35 we weren't gonna. But then we said, "Hmmm what are we going to do after that? Hmm I don't know." Let's find some land here in this area and that's how we found, a friend found this and suggested it. SY: It's beautiful. CT: Yeah. But there's another part of my career that I've never gotten to and we don't need to elaborate this, but after the Peace Corps Prep Program I started the Center for Volunteer Administration and taught volunteer administration for 2 years or 3 through Continuing Ed over at VC. SY: You did? CT: Oh yeah. I had a friend named Anne Mills who worked with me and the two of us did this and I felt good about it. I trained maybe about maybe 50 people around here. But you know the thing is they have the same problems, you know the problems don't go away. People don't write plans, they don't take it seriously. I've gotten some of the worst fundraising letters lately and it makes me, of organizations I care about! Good Beginnings - did you get a fundraiser from them? They didn't sign it! SY: I don't. I mean I'm just friends with them on Facebook. I don't get letters from them. CT: Yeah it's a wonderful organization I really think what they do is super, but all you need to do a little, pay attention. No, but way too much of that. But I, nothing that I can do, or nothing that we can do could change that except make people more aware. National Life was a big supporter, really helped, always gave us space and we had a friend who'd been an officer in National Life and she got us a couple of grants to help run that program. So but I mean and then Russ really retired retired I did that for a little bit and then I just thought, "This is just too much fun you know." And then we since '92 I can't believe we've traveled a good deal and we've been all and I was down there looking through some of the scrapbooks and there's tons of pictures of various interesting people, and had a good time. SY: Yeah, so um so was that were you getting paid for was for running the program? CT: No, no, no, no. SY: No. CT: No. SYU: I don't know why I keep asking that. It's just because I'm thinking about the arc of your life and I'm thinking about you wanting to take those couple years before you got married, and I'm just wondering if it mattered to you in that way as validation? CT: No. No. You see when Russ was first, when we were first in the Army and Russ was a lieutenant, we and during the first, even after Sarah was born we were so, they did not pay Army officers a lot of money. We were so tight to the chest and we were so careful even to this day it kills me to pay more than I think I should for a pound of bananas. We 36 just were really careful, and we, even when we had 3 children even by the time Ellen, we were still really, really watching. It wasn't until Russ made general officer really that we got enough money that I didn't have --I remember one day Russ said, "You don't have to worry anymore. You do not have to worry anymore. There's always enough money. There's always enough that you could." Well he knew I didn't have too fancy taste. I didn't want anything fantastic. But he said, "You can stop worrying." It's meant an awful lot to me. I suppose I'm worrying because my mother worried and never said anything. And I'm sure the children didn't have any idea of this, why should they? This is just a burden I bore but it was my own doing. I didn't have to. I just was like that and it's been lovely. I can remember you know lots of times when I thought, "Hmmm if I spend $25.00 for that, no I can't do that," you know, this sort of thing. SY: You were a Depression baby. CT: Yes. SY: This is what your generation did. CT: Yeah. SY: You knew that the rug could be pulled out from under you at any moment. So it makes sense. CT: Yeah, even at the point when you're in the Army you knew that. Well we never had any concern that Russ would lose his job you know. I suppose he could have done something awful but he never did. I sort of trusted him not to do that, but that's right. I never thought of it that way but that's what it is. But it wasn't, it wasn't easy. And then when we came here of course we had not only had his retirement but we had a very modest salary from the university, because for one thing the university could afford nothing else. They - Russ had said, "I think I'll just tell them that I'll work for the first 5 years for no salary." I said, "No, no, no. That's not fair. Even if it's a little we can manage on very little, but." Mary Roux, you know who is our - you know Mary Roux runs the Uniform Shop? She was our, she came to work for me the day the moving man brought us to Northfield and she stayed with us the whole time until we retired in '92. And she was our housekeep--she was supposed to be our housekeeper but of course she became a third daughter which was really great, and yeah that was really nice to have full time help that the university gave us. She did everything for us, she cooked, if I needed her to she ran errands, she did anything. SY: You hosted a lot dinner parties you needed help. Or you need your mother's cook book on how to make hot cocoa for 100. CT: I know it. But she and I cooked a lot because we couldn't afford to pay the food service to have dinner parties, so Mary and I we made apple crisp, not for 100 but I think for about 60 one time, you know. And we did a lot that--hors d'oeuvres and stuff, and I have lots of recipes of Mary's, little recipes that she found that she whip up on a Thursday and I could serve on Friday night if I had to sort of thing. She was wonderful 37 about that. And that was in the days when this University was just going on but we were determined to put up a good face you know. SY: Keep up appearances. CT: Keeping up appearances, yeah. SY: Yeah, yeah. CT: But it was, it was, it was a great life. I wouldn't, I wouldn't have done it differently. I wouldn't have wanted to live in one place. I guess a regret, I suppose it's a regret although it isn't to, our 3 children live all over. They've gone their own separate ways. They're very successful kids to me. They've done what they've needed to do or wanted to do, but they're far away. I think it would be so nice to able to say, "Come over for coffee," or "You and your family come for Sunday dinner or something," and there's none of that. We make a lot of effort to talk a lot on the telephone and they're wonderfully good to us. But I can't see moving to California, I certainly don't want to walk, move to Washington, D.C. and Tom even worse he lives in Olympia, Washington which is charming. We have no connections except them there you know? We have to, our connections are here and in Massachusetts because Russ has cousins there and I have 1 cousin there, and we have our high school friends and we have new friends that we've met there that are good to us too. So this going back you know when I say I don't mind moving that's kind of a falsehood because I fuss and fume but I can do it and we do it twice a year. We move and pick up and [laughs], I left my winter coat down there this time instead of bringing it. I will need it in November here particularly since now those Todd Lecture Series people who've been told 100 times, "Please don't have anything after the first of November," November third next year, November third. And I need my winter coat. Now that sounds like a minor thing, but we've got to go back because I am not going to go to that parade in November without my winter coat and I'm not buying another one. Well I might. There you go, that's a thought. SY: You're a Depression baby you're not going to buy another one [laughs]. CT: It's true. SY: So ingrained, not gonna happen. CT: And I suppose people study Depression and of course you get into the end of it aren't you? I mean people who are much older than I am aren't around too much. SY: Yeah. CT: Yeah. SY: You're getting to be that last generation. CT: Yeah. SY: Yeah. 38 CT: But it was a hardworking generation. Think of our parents. Gosh yeah. SY: Yeah. CT: Yeah. SY: How long have we been talking? 2 hours! [laughs] This was, I was fascinated the whole time. I don't know if I have any other questions. Do you have any last thoughts?

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

Issue 27.5 of the Review for Religious, 1968. ; EDITOR R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITORS Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Augustine G. Ellard, S.J. ASSISTANT EDITORS Ralph F. Taylor, S.J. John C. Treloar, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. C~orrespondence with the editor, the associate editors, and the assistant editor, as well as books for review, should be sent to KEVIEW FOR RELI~3IOUS; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63io3. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's Church; 32~ Willings Alley; Philadelphia, pennsylvania ~91o6. + + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited with ecclesiastical approval by faculty members of the School of Divinity of Saint Louis University, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63103. Owned by the Missouri Province Edu-cational Institute. Published bimonthly and copyright ~) 1968 by REvmw FOR RELm~Ot3S at 428 East Preston Street; Baltimore, Mary-land 21202. Printed in U.S.A. Second class pos!age paid at Baltimore, Maryland. Single copies: $1.00. Subscription U.S.A. and Canada: $5.00 a year, $9.00 for two years; other countries: $5.50 a year, $10.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order paya-ble to Rzvmw Fort R~LIGIOUS 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. Renewals and new subscriptions, wher~ accom-panied by a remittance, should be sent to REvIEw ~Oa RELIGIOtJS; P. O. BOX 671; Baltimore. Maryland 21203. Changes of address, business correspondence, and orders not accompanied by a remittanct should be sent to REvmw FOR RELIGIOUS ; 4~8 East Preston Street; Baltimore, MaD, land 21202. Manuscripts, editorial cor-respondence, and books for review should be sent to R~vmw ~oa RELIGIOUS; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to the address of the Questions and Answers editor. SEPTEMBER1968 VOLUME 27 NUMBER 5 JOSEPH FICHTNER, O.S.C. Signs Charisms, Apostolates "Signs of the times" is a phrase that has been bandied about for so long in ecclesiastical circles that it has be-come part of our Christian vocabulary and has helped to define the relationship between the Church and the world.1 It is a category which sums up and expresses the Christian interpretation.of human, history---of the events which give evidence of and vindicate God's pres-ence and activity in the world through human agency. It has been empl'oyed in papal and conciliar documents not as a pious exhortation but in order to draw attention to the Christian duty of recognizing, analyzing, and assessing the events and movements of !aistory as so ma.ny opportunities for evangelisation. The Church will have a dynamic and effective apostolate in the world only if she discerns and assesses the values to be found in the world today. The charisms or gifts with which the Spirit of Christ endows the Church enable her not only to interpret contemporary history but to meet the needs of peoples. Pope John XXIII first used the expression "signs of the times" in the apostolic constitution Humanae salutis, proclaiming the Second Vatican Council3 "Indeed," he said, "we make ours the recommendation of Jesus that one should know how to distinguish the 'signs of the times' (Mr 16:4), and we seem to see now, in the midst of so much darkness, a few indications which augur well for the fate of the Church and of humanity." After 1 See M.-D. Chenu, O.P., "Les signes des temps," Nouvelle revue thdologique, v. 87 (1965), pp. 20-$9; "The Church and the World," Documentatie Centrum Concilie, n. 52; "The Christian Value of Earthly Realities," ibid., n. 157; "A Pastoral Constitution on the Church," ibid., n. 205. = Walter M. Abbott, S.J., and Joseph Gallagher (eds.), The Docu-ments o[ Vatican H (New York: America Press, Guild Press, Associa-tion Press, 1966), p. 704. All translations of Vatican II documents throughout the article are taken from this edition. Joseph Fichtner, O~S.C., is a faculty member of the Cro-sier House of Stud-ies; 2620 East Wal-len Road, Fort Wayne, Indiana 46805. VOLUME 27, 1968 + + ÷ $oseph Fichtner, 0.$.C. listing several indications he himself had noticed, he added: "And this facilitates, no doubt, the apostolate of the Church . " The phrase was given a little more precise applica-tion by the same pontiff in his encyclical Peace on Earth,~ most significant for addressing itself not only to members of the Church but to "all men of good will." Here John XX!II observed how our age is distinguished by three characteristics: (1) the promotion o[ the working classes; (2) the entry of women into public life; and (3) the emancipation of colonized peoples. All three together signi[y that sweeping socialization whose Christian value the Church embraces with the arms of her catholicity. The recourse she may have to such signs of the times is not. a matter of opportunism but the result of understanding the spirit of the times and how the Spirit o[ Christ is at work in them. In his first encyclical Ecclesiam Suam,4 Pope Paul VI retained the term aggiornamento coined by John XXIII and associated it with the "signs of the times" as a pro-gram of action: "We want to recall it to mind as a stim-ulus to preserve the perennial vitality of the Church, her continuous awareness and ability to study the signs of the times and her constantly youthful agility in 'scrutiniz-ing it all carefully and retaining only what is good' (I Thes 5:21) always and everywhere." As John XXIII made the signs of the times the nerve center of his en-cyclical and the reason [or his optimistic outlook upon the health of the world, so did Paul VI comment upon them favorably after his return from Jerusalem on J.anuary 8, 1964, asking the faithful to understand, reflect upon, and learn how to go about deciphering them. Finally, despite some hesitation about accepting the phrase because of its biblical derivation, it was taken up into the Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World:5 "To carry out such a task [of service], the Church has always had the duty of scrutinizing the signs of the times and of interpreting-them in the light o[ the gospel . We must therefore recognize and understand the world in which we live, its expec-tations, its longings, and its often dramatic characteris-tics." The same article sketches by way of contrasts some of the contemporary characteristics: social, economic, and cultural transformation versus the uncertainty about the direction man is giving it; abundant wealth, natural resources, economic power, and the accompanying hun- 3 William J. Gibbons, S.J. (ed.), Pacera in terris (New York: Paul-ist Press, 1963), nn. 39-45. ~ The Pope Speaks, v. 10 (1965), p. 271, n. 20. The translation given above differs somewhat from the reference. 3 Article 4. ger and poverty; the unity and solidarity of the world versus the threat of total war; exchange of. ideas and diverse ideologies; a better world movement without equal zeal for spiritual betterment;'hope and anxiety. Its use in Matthew 16:4 has rendered the ph~rase sus-pect, for in the Matthean context the term "signs" refers to the miracles Jesus Worked, which is far from the meaning attached to it by either the popes or the recent council. What the latter had in mind were the events, not necessarily miraculous or extraordinary, taking place in the course of human history having spiritual and symbolic significance. The events, what-ever they may be, have both historical and theological significance. This means that beyond their immediate, brute, historical content, they have a value because they are an expression of an other reality. One can, for exam-ple, envision the forms of civilization---industrialization, socialization, urbanization, decolonialism--simply as historical trends, and then again, as the Pastoral Con-stitution on the Church in the Modern World would have us do, .as pointers to a higher reality. They open to man "spiritual vistas long unsuspected." 6 ,Perhaps their spiritual and symbolic significance can be seen more clearly when we recognize them to be signs of the times.7 The Church's duty, if her mission is to be accredited by God,. is to see that the question of God be not left out of any understanding ~ of contemporary history. The Church is dealing here with a "theophany" that has been termed "theonetics," the study of God in change. She is living in a messianic age with an escha-tological thrust--toward the end of time. Christ appeared in the one unique kairos, in the "fullness of time," and the Church is to. appear in His stead, as His' Body, con-tinuously and permanently in the process of time. Her mission in the course of human history is to interpret events and phenomena in such a way as never to let the world lose sight of its creative and redemptive reality, the transcendent and immanent in it. The Church bears witness to the economy of salvation as she sees it unfold-ing itself in history. The times furnish her with the Signs whereby she can be both sensitive to the movement of history and docile to the Holy Spirit helping her inter-pret the signs. She is in the same situation as Israel was when Yahweh was dealing with her in the concrete history Of her people. Failing this task to read the signs. of the times and to recognize their theological implica-tions, the Church abandons the world to its blind his-torical events. Chenu, "Les signes,'; p. 32. See E. Jenni, "Time," The Interpreter's Dictionary o! the Bible, ,1.4. sig,~, Chaa.~, Apostolates VOLUME ~7, ~.968 4, $oseph Fichtner, O$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOU~ Part of the difficulty of such a task is that though the Church is distinct from the world, she is linked up with it. The emphasis throughout her history has fallen upon either of the two, the distinction or the link. Whenever the Church felt the distinction from the world most keenly, she shied away from her duty of evaluating earthly realities or else failed to understand them entirely or too glowly.8 It is far easier to insist upon the current categories of the temporal-spiritual, profane-sacred, civilization-evangelization, creation-redemption, history-salvation, Church-world, nature-grace, than to grasp their interrelationship. If the dualisms emerge too sharply, the Church may treat them too much apart, pass abstract judgment upon them, so that "never the twain shall meet." ¯ Granted, evangelization is not of the same order as civilization. To promote culture is not to convert to the faith. To feed the hungry and give drink to the thirsty is a duty of Christian charity, but it is not equivalent to preaching the word of God, teaching catechetics, or administering the sacraments. And yet the many earthly values are the common capital of all men, believers and unbelievers alike. Wherever they may be found, they afford the good ground for evangelical growth. Without such positive values as order, justice, right, freedom, and so forth, the work of God would have to operate in a vacuum. All human enterprise, personal as well as social, so long as it promotes the good, the true, the just, and the beautiful, is the fulfillment of that hidden potential man has in himself as an image of his Maker. Humanity itself served an incarnational purpose for the Son of God; all the good works of humanity subserve.the further goal of evangelization. All such works and the values attaching to them, because they signal the gradual development of man, his humanisation, are to be considered the prevenient signs and predispositions for the diffusion of the gospel. Man, confronted by the immense resources of nature, including his own almost infinite capacities, becomes more human through the advance of science, technology, culture, and socialization. At the same time he is left open to spiritual values, his personal and social life as it develops presents positive dispositions for the incar-nation of. divine life. For example, the closer he comes to fulfilling his aspiration for peace, the more likely he is to receive "a peace the world cannot give." 9 Major improve- 8 S~e Heinrich Tenhumberg, "The Role of Church Authority in Investigating the Signs of the Times," Third Session Council Speeches of Vatican H, ed. William K. Leahy and Anthony T. Massimini (New York: Paulist Press, 1966), pp. 172-3. See also Paul Gouyon, "Reading the.Signs of the Times," ibid., pp. 154-7. 8 Jn 14:27. ments upon mass communications help the Christian to spread the message of the gospel universally. So in every instance where he is an agent of truly human progress he renders himself fit for or subject to .grace. What scholastic theology calls the "obediential potency" of men is nothing else than man radically-good but now more than ever open and receptive to grace because of .the development of his capacities.10 Popes John and Paul and the Vatican Council have called our attention to the social dimensions of this obediential.potency. A fair illustration and parallel to our times can be taken from early Christianity when the fathers of the Church observed a major and universal phenomenon of their own stage of human evolution, the civilization of the Roman Empire. The socialization in .our day is comparable to the" civilization in theirs. They were ready to describe the civilization of the Roman Empire as an evangelical preparation. The cultural value of language alone, such as the Greek and the Latin, helped them to proclaim the gospel far and wide, though they could have been tradition-bound by the language of their Founder. The worldwide extension of social and political values, moreover, provided them the good ma-terial for the construction of the kingdom of God. They found the Roman Empire to be a meeting, place for Christianity; its cobblestones were the stepping-stones for "the feet of one who brings good news." 11. Earthly realities, however,, do not always and every-where contain pure or undiluted values; their values oftentimes are ambiguous, contaminated by error or sin. The fathers of the Church realized this fact too, but it did not prevent them from sifting the important values from an admixture of good and evil. In the grandeur of nature, though occasionally troubled in land, sky, and sea, they discovered the vestigia Dei, and in the grandeur of a tainted human nature an imago Dei. Mined ore has its measure of slag before its refinement in a smelting furnace. The same is true of labor organization, agrarian reform, social charity, and so forth. The ultimate per-spective of human projects, faulty as they may be in their hesitant beginnings, may go far beyond their im-mediate realization. This is why it is so ne.cessary to read the signs of the times correctly and not let ourselves be confused over realities.which onesidely seem to be stumbling blocks or idols for mankind. In rendering service to the world we cannot help but expose our own weaknesses and limitations. This exposure is unavoidable, and the a0St. Thomas Aquinas, De virtutibus incommuni, a.10, ad 13; 1-2, ci.ll3, a.10. n Is 52:7. Signs~ Chhrisms, Apostolates VOLUME 27~ 1968 77i Church herself admits it in her Pastoral Constitution On the Church in the Modern World: ". the mission of the Church will show its religious, and by that very fact its supremely human character." x2 There will certainly be risks to assume while drawing the good out of all possible resources for building the kingdom of God. But the risks will be diminished to the extent that we recognize and receive the values of the world in the light of the gospel and instinct with faith" and charity. Faith fed by an intensive prayer life will. have to be on the alert to follow God's designs in .the progress of nations. If the risk is great on the one hand, there is no less risk, for lack of faith and discernment, in failing to see the divine interventions in the events of today. Vatican CounCil II was mindful of this risk when it exemplified a discernment of the signs of the times by way of con-trasts, Such a discernment inspired by the Holy Spirit reveals the Spirit working within the signs: "The whole creation is eagerly waiting for God to reveal his sons." in Re.ligious institutes cannot rest content with the papal and conciliar exhortation to discern the signs of the times, nor are they generally qualified to do so without the charisms or gifts of the Holy Spirit. What the Church i~s able to analyze and assess universally, the various religious groups should do locally and periodically, always ready to seek out new solutions for new problems, How else is adaptation to circumstances possible? They might ask themselves questions such as these: What are ¯ the needs of the local community, civic and religious? Do signs of the times show themselves locally, pointing the way for a religious community to promote and take action? Housing projects, job opportunities, educational facilities, cultural programs, ecumenical activities, social charities, and a host of other situations--do they not cry out for that cooperation without which God will not intervene in human events excepting miraculously? As fast as science and technology are moving ahead into the future, can the religious apostolate afford not to re-examine itself periodically? One of the characteristics of the new-style religious life would seem to be presence in an ever changing society. Members are determined to share in the suffering, sacrifice, and conflict affecting society today. ,~÷ But is there not a subtle temptation in thinking'one ,.4. .has to leave his milieu behind in order t.o go "where the ¯÷ action is" ? The local apostolate, along with the charisms befitting it, may well be the first obligation of a religious group. Heinrich Tenhumberg, Auxiliary Bishop of Mfinster, Joseph Fichtner, 0.$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS !772 Article 11. Rom 8:19. Germany, in a speech to the Council Fathers on October 26, 1964, commenting upon the schema of the Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World, raised the question why in her past the Church too rarely acknowledged the free action of her members who aptly recognized the signs of the times. Fie laid down what he thought were the four conditions for rightly investigating and interpreting the signs of the times, one of which was that "room must be given to a new evaluation of the charisms and gifts of the Holy Spirit among the People of God." 14 Without aspiring to such a mature and correct understanding of the signs of the times, he felt the Church would not be able to "fulfill the will.of God in time." The question Bishop Tenhum-berg raises does not touch upon the fidelity of God to His Church in the modern world, as if He might forsake her in an hour of need; he simply asks whether the Church always utilizes the prophetic gifts which keep her au courant. Of course, the same question can be directed to religious institutes as belonging to the char-ismatic character of the people of God. "Charism" is the near transliteration of a Greek term typically Pauline. It is to be found in the Pauline Epistles and once in the First Epistle of Peter. The latter more or less encapsulates the Pauline idea of a charism: "Each of you has received a special grace, so, like good stewards responsible for all these different graces of God, put yourselves at the service of others." 15 Paul, too, regards the charisms as given to members of the Christian com-munity in trust for the common good of that community. The four lists of charisms he provides indicate how diversified these gifts are, yet none of the lists nor all of them together are ~xhaustive.16 In this enumeration there is no hint of Paul prognosticating about the future needs of the Church and how his lists of charisms are sufficient for them. To envisage the function of each charism for the bene-fit of the whole community, Paul ~onjures up the image of the human body with all of its members contributing to its welfare.~7 The multiplicity of the charisms, rather than manifesting conflict with one another within the totality of the body or tearing it apart, tend toward its 14 Tenhumberg, "The Role," p. 174. The first, second, and fourth conditions are: a renewed theology of the Holy Spirit and of His life and activity within the Church; a renewal of biblical and patris-tic theology; a new style of Church authority and a new method for it to act, watch, and judge. ~ 1 Pt 4:10. See a preconciliar explanation of the charismatic element in the Church by Karl Rahner, The Dynamic Element in the Church (New York: Herder and Herder, 1964), pp. 42-83. an I Cor 12:8-10, 28-30; Rom 12:6-8; Eph 4:11. a~ See Rom 12:4-6. + + + Signs, ~harisms, Apostolates VOLUME 27, 1968 77~ ÷ ÷ ÷ Joseph Fichtner, O.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS unity. In this connection it is interesting to compare the Pauline idea of this totalizing effect of the charisms with the opinion expressed by St. Hippolytus of Rome in his introduction to the Apostolic Tradition, a third-century document. He asserts that "all charisms which from the beginning God gave to man in accordance with his will, restore to man the image which was lost." The early Church thought of the apostolate as the first of the spiritual gifts entrusted to her by Christ. It was itself a charism. Scripture, particularly the Pauline writings, witness to the fact that the Twelve did not lay exclusive claim to the title of "apostle." Probably because they felt the need of the assistance of others, they invested the rest with some of their own power and called them "apostles." The apostolate and the prophetic spirit was, for Paul, the foundation of the Church, with Christ as its cornerstone,is The apostolate was a spiritual gift he treasured much, and that is why he so frequently re-ferred to it. A closer investigation into the charisms of the early Church and their meaning and use bears out the fact that the early Church was so convinced o~ her charismatic role under the influence and guidance of the Holy Spirit that it has led some scholars, peering back into that time, to be-lieve the Church to have been entirely charismatic and not at all hierarchical and institutional. Relating the role of the Holy Spirit to the mystery of the Church, the Dog-matic Constitution on the Church takes issue with such a stand, stating: "He [the Holy Spirit] furnishes and directs her [the Church] with various gifts, both hierar-chical and charismatic, and adorns her with the fruits of His grace (cf. £ph 4:11-12; 1 Cor 12:4; Gal 5:22)." 19 Part and parcel of her charismatic structure is the re-ligious life, and only within this structure does it find its authentic ecclesial dimension. Paul esteemed the apostolate to be a gift and a de-manding task at one and the same time. It would be foolish of us to think the early Christians were buoyed up by a host of fancy, even magical, spiritual gifts and had to exert no effort of their own. We do them an in-justice in imagining their life was surrounded with the miraculous. A good glance at some of their charisms will tell how much need there was for personal and communal effort. Works of mercy--nursing, almsgiving, adminis-tration, fraternal help of every kind--cost effort on their part. So did the preaching, teaching, and discernment of spirits. All such charisms had to be met halfway by men of good will .and selflessness; they demanded that same See Eph 2:20. Article 4. human enterprise and exertion which we ~aw had to be put into a periodic reappraisal of thh signs of the times. For some time before Vatican II theology was reluc-tant to teach that charisms belong to the contemporary Church. Theology was wont to confine the charisms to the primitive Church and to limit them characteristically to the miraculous or extraordinar~y. Vatican II changed all that theological opinion. Little and great charisms have existed throughout the history of the Church. As we read in the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, the Holy Spirit "distributes special graces among the faith-ful of every rank . These charismatic gifts, whether they be the most outstanding or the more ,simple and widely diffused, are to be received with thanksgiving and consolation, for they are exceedingly suitable and useful for the needs of the Church." 20 There seems to be no reason then to hold the early Church to have been more richly endowed with charisms than the Church today. In the Church then as now charisms are spiritual gifts bestowed freely especially for the benefit of others. Wherever one discovers the incon-spicuous service of the Church, no matter how small the ecclesial operation, there, in such gifts, one will likely detect some sort of divine intervention. However slight a manifestation of loving service, it may conceal a gift of the Spirit of Christ. Charisms may be found together wherever one sees the accumulated effect of a sign. Charismatic gifts are not only rare and extraordinary but common and ordinary. Anyone who is willing to expend himself for Christ in heroic fidelity to common-place, everyday things is gifted with a charism. Under the common thing the hidden grace. The gifts of the Holy Spirit are deeper, more hidden and widespread or pervasive than we know. Who is to set limits upon His gifts in our life? Are we too inclined to look for gifts only in the spectacular, the colossal, the newsworthy, like finding a solution to wars, social problems, ecclesias-tical enigmas? Many are the gifts wrapped in the small packages of fidelity to duty, kindness, sincerity, purity, courage, truthfulness, trust, love. At this point it may be time to push Bishop Tenhumberg's argument one notch further by asking if there is any possibility at all of interpreting the signs of the times unless charisms are better employed? How closely interconnected, in fact, intermingled are charisms with the signs of the times? Do we have to speak of them as "values" to observe how they overlap? St. Paul never meant to enumerate all the Charisms of Article 12. ÷ ÷ ÷ Signs, Chazisms~ Apostolates VOLUME 27, 1968 + + ÷ .loseph Fichtner, O .S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS the Spirit at work in his day, possibly because he did not discern them all; nor is it possible for us to list them in our own day, excepting to mention, as he did, that there are varieties of gifts, all of which are intended for the good of the Church. Gifts of nature, talent, skill, com-petence, which often are the substratum of grace and are not easily told apart from it, are not to be hoarded or stingily communicated. Were it possible to paraphrase I Corinthians 12, we would have to say that the variety of gifts discloses itself somewhat differently now than in early Christianity. Perhaps this variety shows up in in-telligence or scholarship or scientific research, social reforms, artistic talent, catechetical skill, pediatrics, ger-ontology, the schooling of exceptional children, liturgical zeal, youth programming, public relations, apostolic en-deavor, mystical bent, and so forth. Gifts of all kinds, specializations, are useful and necessary in the Church in the modern world and are not to be bottled up or hidden. Nor will they function properly if restricted to a loner or a clique. They will dictate the abandoning of some apos-tolates and the assuming of others. Various gifts of the Spirit should enable Christians to work together harmoniously in the Church, for though the gifts are many they are one in the Spirit. In the Decree on the Apostolate of ~he Laity the unity of the apostolate is accentuated, however variously it may ex-press itself: "From the reception of these charisms or gifts, including those which are less dramatic, there arise for each believer the right and duty to use them in the Church and in the world for the good of mankind and for the upbuilding of the Church." ~ Since no one can claim all the gifts, their very diversity can do service in many apostolates and fit together into a fine pattern of apostolic activity. St. Paul wrote about this unity because he himself was faced with the Corinthian quarreling over gifts as though they were held in contention or competition: "There is a variety of gifts but always the same Spirit, there are all sorts of service to be done, but always to the same Lord; working in all sorts of different ways in different people, it is the same God who is work-ing in all of them." ~z Whereas Paul had in mind char-isms belonging to individuals, it seems more appropriate to think that nowadays the charisms are diffused among groups of men and women who are willing to pool their capabilities and resort to consultation and con-certed action. The Spirit confers communal charisms as well as individual. Charity, according to Paul, is their unifying factor, and therefore he stresses the fact that charity outranks ~XArticle 3. =1Cor 12:4-6. them all. Charity motivates the recipients of the gifts to employ them for the common good of mankind. Charity too allows us who live in a community to appreciate the variety of gifts distributed among the members, so that each person can be different because of them even when we do not comprehend why he is so gifted or how he is so effective with his gifts. We must leaim to be patient, tolerant, and sensitive to one another, letting another employ his gift(s) as he sees fit as long as he is not misguided in his zeal and effort (how can a so-called charism square with" an otherwise questionable life?).- The function of gifts cannot be legislated in complete detail, nor can everybody in every circumstance abide by such detail. Practical matters simply cannot be regula.ted unanimously. But it may take charismatic courage to say "No" to a trend or policy or spirit which proves to be wrong and damaging to the Church. Egotism sometimes blinds us to the divine goodness in the many splendid achievements, the human values, round about us. Humility, contrariwise, prompts us to behold the marvels of God's grace. Charismatic goodness is to 'be found abundantly in the Church' and society if we would only peel from our eyes the scales of our selfish-ness. We are tempted to look only for the things which suit our fancy. ,At times, no doubt, the charismatic may frighten us or appear threatening because it is novel and catches us by surprise. It may be shocking, and yet upon investigation it may reveal a hidden or unknown contlnmty with something of the past. Liturgical change, for example, may startle today but in itself be a revival of a tradition dating back to the early Church. Charismatic leaders ¯ may be criticized for their bumptiousness or impetuosity; -they may obe called untraditional or subversive; their spirit may be attributed to a yen for change. They and their gifts may meet with contradiction, apathy, sloth, delay, distrust, because not all others discern their true value or the Spirit introducing them into the Church and society. Difficult as it is to sense the Spirit at work among charismatic leaders, it is no less difficult for the charis-matic leaders themselves to be sure of their own inspira-tions and enthusiasms. The uncertainty within themselves is compounded by the opposition they inevitably meet from without. Men like Gandhi, John XXIII, and Martin Luther King, Jr. exemplify the point at hand. We who are caught up .in the crosscurrents sweeping through the Church at the present time easily recognize the signs of opposition. They are like the churning waters left behind by a ship, the wake of its effort to plow ahead through the rampaging sea. + + Signs, Charinm, Apostolates ~OI.UME 27, 1968 777 + ÷ ÷ ]o, seph Fichtner, . . 0.$.~,. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 7.78 This opposition is mild in comparison with the re-jection the true apostle has to contend with while follow-ing Christ in the modern world: rejection by his enemies because what he upholds or promotes is hostile to them, and rejection by his own who fail to understand him or his gift(s). The cost of apostleship and discipleship is sul~ering-- the sacrifice of earthly ties, possessions, life itself. What uncompromising zeal is necessary for the disciple as he assumes the cost of his charism. Christ expected His followers to encounter suffering, at least the pain of carrying out the burden or responsibility of a charism.23 It is painful to realize charismatic limitations, painful to be humbled by other charismatic activities which clash with ours. Not all gifts are operative in the Church at the same time, so they will have to bide their time. The important thing to remember is that the charisms meant for the apostolate place their recipients in the service of Christ who was a suffering Servant for His people. Since Vatican Council II considered the religious way of life to be charismatic and apostolic, it is only to be expected that this life should suffer through its current attempts at self-renewal. The charism of the religious founder was the germ of "the original inspiration of a given community," 24 which has to undergo the pain of growth. The retention or modification of that charism which he injected in his community can cause suffering especially when the personal charisms of members are in conflict with it. The Spirit communicates a "spirit" determinative of "the particular character of each com-munity," which can put the community at odds with ecclesiastical authority and occasion large-scale dissatis-faction. 25 Thus the vital principle of a religious com-munity can be at one and the same time the source of its sanctity and the cause for the purification of its orig-inal gift. The most agonizing encounters with ecclesias-tical authority occur in the field of the apostolate, a fact confirmed by contemporary examples. Yet Vatican II admitted it was "by divine plan that a wonderful variety of religious communities' grew up" with "the diversity of their spiritual endowments." 2n This is an admission that the Spirit of Christ communi-cates directly and not necessarily or always through "~ See Lk 14:25-35. ~ Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of the Religious Lile, Article 2. See M. Olphe-Galliard, s.J., "Le charisme des [ondateurs religieux," Vie consacrge, v. 39 (1967), pp. 338-52. ~Decree on the Bishops' Pastoral O0~ce in the Church, Article 35.2." 28Decree on the Appropriate Renewal oI the Religious Lile, Ar-ticle 1. hierarchical channels. By their initiative and creativity, in accordance with their special gifts, religious com-munities initiate movements which only later may be taken up by authority. Their apostolates lie at the fron-tiers of the Church, supported by the gifts, small and great, of the Holy Spirit. The ultimate norm of the religious life is "a following of Christ as proposed by the gospel." z7 The gospel pic-tures Jesus addressing himself to the J.ews who were accusing Him of blasphemy, speaking of Himself as "someone the Father consecrated and sent into the world." 28 Christ in turn called others to this same ~onsecration and same mission, that is, ap6stolate. They had to give up all things to follow Him. Religious have appropriated to themselves the word spoken by Peter the Apostle: "We have left everything and fol-lowed you." 29 Christ called fishermen and a tax collector to the apostolate: "Follow me.''30 This call to obedience meant adherence to the Person of Jesus Christ and fellowship with Him. Before Christ entrusted any offices to His followers, He established a community among them with Himself at the center; He shaped them into a Christocentric community. The early apostolic life was not motivated by some form of hero worship but by obedience to the Son of God. The Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of the Re-ligious Life devotes an entire article to a discussion of the apostolate.31 After explaining in Article 5 that the life of religious is "an act of special consecration [to Christ] which is deeply rooted in their baptismal con-secration and which provides an ampler manifestation of it," the decree shows how its basic unity is diversified in two vocations, corttemplative and apostolic. The special consecration can be lived in two ways because of its twofold orientation. Vatican Council II was look-ing at the religious life phenomenologically: it saw therein two principal orientations, one toward con-templation, the other toward the apostolate. The religious apostolate then must stem from the special consecration to Christ; it is an apostolic con-secration. The religious apostolate is not simply a gesture, a sort of outward and incidental manifestation of the love consecrated men and women have for Christ. It is ~ Ibid., Article 2. 's Jn 10:36. =~ Mt 19:27. ~ Mk 2:14. ~ Article 8. See £. Pin, S.J., "Les instituts religieux apostoliques et le changement so¢io-culturel," Nouvelle revue thdologique, v. 87 (1965), pp. 395-411. ÷ ÷ ÷ Signs, ~Tharisms, Apostolates VOLU~E ~7; i~3 779 ÷ Joseph Fich0t~n.e(~r,. REV[EW FOR RELIGIOUS rather a concrete and unmistakable love expressed in a life '!committed to apostolic works." 32 In Article 8 we read about the "various aspects of the apostolate," how religious groups make diversified con-tributions to the common good of the Church. These contributions, the decree points out, derive from the varieties of gifts given to the groups by the Holy Spirit. The varieties of gifts determine to a large extent, though not fully, the specific apostolic orientation a religious group takes--teaching, nursing, social work, home and foreign missions, and so forth. Although the decree does not refer to it explicitly, it implicitly wants religious to consider the interrelationship of signs of the times, charisms, and apostolates: "Communitie.~ should promote among their members a suitable awareness of contem-porary human conditions and of th~ needs of the Church. For if their members can combine the burn-ing zeal of an apostle with wise judgments, made in the light of faith, concerning the circumstances of the modern world, they will be able to come to the aid of men more elfectively."3a Such studies as psychology, sociology, anthropology, economics, political science, can be the humanistic basis for the charisms to be more under-standing of and productive in the world. In a second paragraph within Article 8 the council links closely two spirits that should dominate each other in the religious life, the religious and the apostolic. Without such interlinking the religious life would suffer and die. The key statement to this effect is the following: "Flence the entire religious life of the rdembers of these communities should be penetrated by an apostolic spirit, as their entire apostolic activity should be ani-mated by a religious spirit." Here we touch upon a delicate point of the spiritual renewal asked "for by Vatican II--the possibility of failure to renew a spirit while changes are made "on behalf of contemporary needs." "Indeed such an interior renewal must always be accorded the leading role even in the promotion of exterior works." a4 Of course it is impossible to set any determinate, calculable hours apart for each, prayer and apostolate, but it is essential to realize that the two go hand in hand. In order to avoid the idea that perhaps apostolic works will lead to the danger of activism, to a self-seeking in the apostolate, to immoderate desire for action, to some sentimental involvement in the lives of others, the council asserted that "apostolic activity should ~ See the first reference in footnote $1. ~ Article 2. ~ Decre~ on th~ ,4ppropriate Renewal o/th~ Religious Life, Arti-cle 2. result from intimate union with" Christ.35 It would not have a Christlike spirit and would be torn from an apos-tolic witness, a body of Christianity without a Heart. The prayer itself of religious should be apostolic. Normally they will make their own the petition in Christ's prayer: "Thy kingdom come"--all the spiritual interests confided to the community. Daily community prayer will embrace all the persons who are in the in-timate care of the community: personnel, students, patients, fellow religious, all who depend upon the community for their spiritual sustenance. Instead of being an evasion of apostolic duty, wrongly inspired by the idea that the community can cure every evil and help everyone with prayer alone, its apostolic prayer will be a catharsis and a strength .for apostolic activity. Its members will not dilute their prayer life with all the worry and anxiety they experience throughout their daily apostolate. Apostolic prayer will be for them a humble and confident conversation with Christ who may find them worthy of His own fiery love for the people His Father committed to Him to redeem. A community closely bound together is prone to feel that its communitarian link conditions its form of presence and activity in the world. Community life of itself is not necessarily opposed to an effective presence and activity in the world. But its members obligate them-selves to live this tension between presence in the world and presence in a community till the' eschatological day when the Church and world will be entirely one. No matter how well they try to regulate their life, there will inevitably be some tension between religious observance and apostolic works, between the structural and the ~harismatic. It would be an easy solution to turn the time for observances into an apostolically disordered life. The regular community observance has apostolic meaning and purpose. Perhaps this tension can be eased by better budgeting and managing of time and service. Better management will help to avoid the two extremes of a rigid formalism on the one hand and a disordered and frantic life on the other. The former is harmful to the apostolate, the latter arouses anxiety or qualms of conscience. All the discussion nowadays against structure and the institutional Church can do harm to what is good and useful of structure and the institutional Church. Some sort of structure and a prudently regulated observance is an indispensable aid to religious life and to the apostolate. To take an example from family life--how much family life remains if members come and go as they Ibid., Article 8. 4- 4- 4- Signs, Charisms, Apostolates VOLUME 27, 1968 781 ÷ ÷ ÷ $oseph Fichtner, O.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS please without any recourse to a schedule for meals, sleep, work, recreation, and especially to a steady inter-communication? The same holds true for religious life:. a moderate observance is a precious boon to it. On the other hand, observance for its own sake is obnoxious. It is bound to incite a harmful restlessness, to sap energy, paralyze effort, or invite either pharisaical regu-larity or intentional neglect. Vatican II was rather in-sistent that this point of observance be looked into and brought up to date. The decree carefully notes that a high-spirited and level-headed apostolate will itself nurture rather than ruin the love for God and neighbor. The question is, how will it nurture this love? First of all, by putting to rest that old fear of an apostolate, genuine and sincere, somehow detracting from the love of God. The council will go down in history, particularly for its Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World, in seeing signs of the times which hold promise of much good for the human community. While speaking of the religious apostolate, it remarks about this same good as the field for religious to harvest. The religious apos-tolate, therefore, will nurture love in two ways: first by peace, secondly by stimulus. Peace will accrue from it because the religious will learn that his effort and fatigue are the sincere and au-thentic expression of his love for God. There is much comfort in knowing, deep down in his heart, that he is doing the will of God in the apostolic task assigned to him and for which his charism suits him. Obedience to an assignment with all the hardship and suffering it entails, is a participation in the obedience of Christ. Christ felt real contentment in the fulfillment of His duty toward His Father. "My food is to do the will of the one who sent me, and to complete his work." 86 At the same time the apostolic religious will be stim-ulated to love more, for the apostolate will impress him with need for fidelity to prayer and to a rule of life. He will recognize at once that any lack of zeal on his part amounts to a lack of love, zeal being the fruit of love. Insufficient love springs from an insufficient union with God. Christ turned to prayer in the midst of a busy apostolate and denied Himself sleep in order to pray often and for long spells. Such prayer instilled in His heart a greater love for souls, greater patience, and more courage. This has been an endeavor to weave together the complementary aspects of the signs of the times, charisms, and apostolates especially as they pertain to religious ~ Jn 4:34. institutes. Religious institutes too, inasmuch as they have a charismatic role in the Church and society, have to examine the signs of the times locally and periodically in order to see what apostolates are open~to them and whether they have the charisms most suited to contem-porary needs. All three--signs of the times, charisms, and apostolates--mesh into a single program of life and work under the guidance o[ the Holy Spirit and in the light o[ faith and charity. Signs, Charisrns, Apostolates VOLUME 27, 1968 KEVIN F. O'SHEA, C.Ss.R. The "Security Void" + ÷ Kevin F. O'Shea, C.Ss.P., writes from St. Mary's Monas-tery; Wendouree; Ballarat, Victoria; Australia. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Two years ago Dan Herr wrote in The Critic of a "piety void": the deep loss felt by many people since older "devotions" have been downgraded and have lost their force, and the new "liturgy" is not yet meaning-fully established. The "piety void" is only one aspect of the "security void": a deep unhappiness experienced by many, since older "securities" have been challenged and nothing seems to have replaced them. This diagnosis contends that two basic types of security are in conflict: a security of absolute norms, and a security of committed love. It analyses them only in the area of external au-thority and obedience (though it might well take in areas of moral conscience, faith and doctrine, and voca-tional role and ideal). Each of the two "approaches" to security to be out-lined here could claim (and has claimed) roots in St. Thomas. It is necessary to distinguish between theory, translation of theory into experience, translation of experience into inspirational-motif, translation ol in-spirational- moti[ into formula, translation o[ [ormula into a workable living pattern. Any fully developed "ap-proach" to a profoundly human value (like security) includes all five: theory, experience, inspirational-motif, formula, and workable living pattern. Of the two ap-proaches to security to be developed here, the first (the "older") can be considered initially as "fully developed" in this sense; the second ("the modern") cannot. Both could agree at root in the theory of St. Thomas; each then develops a different experience and inspirational-motif; the "older" possesses its clear formulas and work-able living patterns, which are now challenged by the "modern"; the "modern" is not yet equipped with these elements, and for that reason is deprecated by the "older." Here lies the problem of analysis: here lies finally the root of the "security void" itself. A security of absolute norms is the fruit of a rational-ized approach to society. Accepting the common aim and the need for organized action to attain it, the members of a society accept also a human authority that will give it firmness, sureness, stability, and "security" in the I'face of conflicting human attitudes within it. When a superior, in whom such authority is vested, make~ an authoritative precept, it becomes normative for the society; only in obedience to that norm can that society continue with security. Security is conceived as unified and efficiently ordered action; it stems from "managerial authority." When the subjects obey, they conform their practical thought and action to the authoritative precept given them, out of respect for authority and out of love for the well-ordered existence of the society and its "security." Their obedience is intelligent, even rational: it is logical for them to obey, given their commitment to such values. When in fact their theoretical assessment of a situation differs from the dictate of authority, they will then sacrifice the advantage they believe they might bring to the common interest, to the greater good of the unchallenged reign of authority and for the noble end it serves, the societyrs "security." This is no infantile submission to the "will" of a master: it is the manly conformity of those who see greater value in their sacrifice than in their independent achievement. Their con-science is honored; and they have the personal, ful-fillment of being rightly ordered to the values they cherish, rather than the less esteemed fulfillment of mastery through their own pattern of action. At .times, recourse might duly be had to higher authority; but always in the interests of greater security for the com-mon interest. This is the theory; it has been lived in a way that subtly turns authority into something more absolute. It is assumed in'practice that the order ~1: the society to its common aim, its security, and its continued existence, depend on absolute obedience to its authority at all times. Despite the theory (which would allow for the balance of one human law with another, and with natural and divine law, andfor the use of epikeia as a x;irtue and not simply as a legal loophole), visible division from authority in any matter commanded is considered a supreme, scandal and an absolute evil. We suspect here a practical transition from general policies (the principle of respect for authority) to particu-lar details (the absoluteness of this dictate, in which the whole meaning of authority is seen to be at stake); we sus.pe~t a practical equation of what is authorized for the society with what is objectively good (and best) for the society--of the practical .and the theoretical advantages of the society; we suspect even that authority is almost conceived as the end of the society itself. In this way the basic theory has been hardened through experience towards a stress on absolute loyalty to authority at all VOLUME 27, 1768 785 + ÷ ÷ Kevin O'Shea, C.Ss.R. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS costs, as the~ esprit de corps and inspirational-motif of society. The formulas of the basic theory are read in this sense, and the workable living patterns enshrine it. In practice, then, it is in the "absolute norms" of authority that man finds his security in society. For an "older" generation such unchallenged security alone was possible. This same approach underlies even a mystical view of the Church as the Body of Christ growing to its fullness under the guidance of the Spirit. It is through the charisms that the Spirit rules the Church; and to some He gives the charism of discerning the direction that might be taken with profit; to others He gives the charism of expressing .this conviction publicly; while to the apostolic hierarchy alone He gives the charism of placing God's definitive seal of approval on any plan. It . is through the hierarchy alone that salvation history can finally and authoritatively be formed: the word of the hierarchy is the word of the Lord. When a member of the Church obeys the hierarchy, he acts out of deep reverence for their office and for the divine plan of history in the Church. He thinks it is better for Christ to be revered in His bishops than for Christ to be helped by independent action but dishonored by an apparent. schism between His members. He gives up .what he hitherto thought to be the desire of the Spirit, for the word of the hierarchy, which He authentically knows to be the desire of the Spirit. This is the theory, and it is not hard to see how it has absolutized the practice of obedience in the church. An episcopal command has been regarded as a divinely absolute norm in which alone the Church can continue to live and grow in Christ. The apostolic placer is the will of God and is the security of the Church. It is the absolute norm for a Christian who wants to live in the Church and follow God's plan. We suspect here the root of the attitude of simple acceptance in many of the faithful who look on all pronouncements of ecclesiastical authority as though they were of the same univocal value; we suspect here a certain voluntarism by which God's ideal plan for man in the Church is identified with God's here and now (permissive?) will expressed through the hierarchy. A mystique of security in the Church stems from this lived attitude. A personal approach to community today suggests another kind of security--the "security of committed love." It begins with the axiom that man is a living and loving person. He is called to give himself to others in generosity, sacrifice, and service. In this "self-spending" he really "becomes" a person. There is in man, then, a native instinct (blunted by sin but given new point by grace) to yield, in love, to others whom he serves. It could be called "obedience," but it is not what is strictly and technically described as social obedience. It is prior to the existence or recognition of any social au-thority; it is an intrinsic function of love. It goes far beyond the demands of organization; it is directed to persons not to abstract values. Man then has to live his life in situations in which he experiences in his conscience the call to such love and serf-giving to others. In this call he hears the voice o[ love itself, which is God. In it he recognises the eter-nal law of absolute Love. He needs these situations if he is going to meet this Love and experience its challenge; they channel it to him as "mediations" of Love. He also needs these situations if he is going to respond to this Love and live up to its demands; they are the ambient, the milieu in which he can grow in it. Such human situations, which are. not of man's mak-ing, are in no way opposed to man's love. His love acts, not against them, but within them. As human, his love needs them. The basic situation thus needed is the situation of "personal community." We do not refer, to a community of traditions and practices, or to a community of meth~ ods and pooled skills, but to a community of persons who strive to live together in a. truly personal and serf-giving way. They are a "people" together, a true "comm.unity," blending together their instinctive desire for love and self-giving. Within such a community, the call to Love is heard and answered; the community is the "mediation" and the "milieu" of the eternal law of Love. Love can find itself only within such a community; it is an intrinsically demanded "structure" of love, a permanent, developed, and basic situation of human love. Considerably more is meant here, of course, than what is usually read into the concept of a society, effi-ciently organized to achieve a common aim. In com-munity, persons experience a sense of belon~,tng, of. "being together," of loving together. The integration_ of person with person, of personal attitude and ideal with personal attitude and ideal, as they yield to one another and serve one another and together serve others, is the basic horizon needed for all human life. In this sense, community "serves" man. Within such a community, there is need for celebra-tioh; such real love and togetherness need to be sym-bohzed and feted. Within such a community, there is also need for leadership; such love needs to be given open and significant expression within the community Security Void VOLUME 27, 1968 Kevin O'Shea~ REVIEW FOR RELI~IOUS 788 and radiated outward to those who do not yet know it. Such celebrations and leading-actions are the high-points of community life. Without them, the community does not live, symbolically, in the hearts of the persons who form it, and does not supply them with action-situa-tions for ever deeper personal love. The community needs such events, and therefore it needs within it an oOice responsible for assuring their presence. Those who bear this office are rightly considered to have special eminence in the community, and to them the open-ness of all members of the community is especially directed. Those who bear this office are in a real sense the pivots and sttpports of the community-structure which serves personal love. The acceptance, the reverence, and the "obedience" they are given is fundamental to the commitment of community love and transcends the limits of merely social obedience. At the same time, the office we describe is not strictly social authority but something prior to it. If in fact in a given community there is also social authority (and thus also social obedience), they/viii be fully integrated, on their lower level, into these primary values. Authority must spring spontaneously from the community-office of celebration and leadership; obedience must spring spon-taneously from integration into community, availability to the action of the community, and reverent acceptance of those who hold office in the community. It is clear that when in fact such true social obedience is called for, it will possess a unique a~ective tone. It wi!l be an obedience within community love. It will simply pinpoint the readiness to yield which is there in the community prior to any legal precept. It is more a privilege than a duty. There are two major differences between this and the pattern of obedience previously described in the "older" approach. First, it claims the right to integrate the external com-mand into the claims of Love as heeded in conscience and lived in the community. The subject to whom the external authority speaks "hears" the dictate externally and then asks himself what it "means,' to him in his community-conscience, as a moral imperative of Love. He does not assume, absolutely and universally, that every external command will always automatically mean such a demand of Love. He does not assume, absolutely and universally, that always and in every ~case personal sacrifice must be made to the higher role of this authority. He will not grant, beforehand, that' authority is the main thing in a given situation but will assess the claims of authority in relation to the claims Of community love itself. He will'make this assessment as a person, in open-ness with the persons who form his community and hold office and authority in it. He will grant that normally and in many cases authority-claim (legal imperative) will mean community-claim and love-claim (moral imperative): but he will not a priori equate the two. He will grant that he must make his decision in this matter in deep responsibility of conscience, but he will think that such responsibility is part of his duty in a community of this kind. This first point is claiming more than the simple state-ment that a true imperative (legal and therefore moral) can objectively be in point but may or may not be grasped subjectively by a given person in invincible ignorance because of environmental circumstances. It is an expres-sion o[ an attitude to obedience that springs from the inspiration of the community-love theme. In theory it may not be saying more than is said in classic positions concerning epikeia and the balance of laws and incon-veniences, but it is said in the spirit of an experience different from the experience that has concretely inter-preted and presented the classic positions. Whatever our final judgment of it, a new point of view is expressed here. Secondly, by way of balance, in this obedience there is always a willingness to go beyond legal demands and to go beyond the hard and fast line of what is obligatory by authority. It does not like to stop at what must be done; it looks for what can be done. The final criterion of action is not what legal authority says (or does not say); it is what the situation really demands of the conscience of those involved. The external authority and its statement are respected as part of the total situa-tion in which the imperative of conscience is seen and in which it must act, but it is recognized that the total situation may at times and even often require more than the external authority has stated. Such obedience must be recognized as magnanimous: it acts, not in con-straint, but in love. Once again, it is an expression of attitude that is in point here, flowing from the basic inspiration of the meaning of community. In theory, it is saying no more than the classic position says of the primacy of charity over social obedience, the unity of all the virtues in love, and the rights of personal conscience. But it is expressed in a new enthusiasm arising from a new ex-perience. It is a different point of view from the "old." In the concrete the obedience morally recognized by the person in a given situation will be a determination of the tension between the first and second point: be-tween the right of personal integration into his respon-sible community love, and the duty of personal tran-÷ ÷ ÷ Security Void VOLUME 27, 1968 789 ÷ ÷ Kevin O '.SShs.eRa.~ REWEW FOR RELIGIOUS 790 scendence of the limits of an external command. If this resolution were consistently in the direction of ignoring the external command, it would not be authentic to its own inspiration; for it would not be recognizing the genuinely "normative" character of authority in the community.It is not the "norm" that is refused; it is the assumption that the norm is "absolute." When this obedience is given, it is not lacking in the formal motiva-tion of social obedience, for it does yield to authority as such, but within a community context. The real ques-tion is: When this obedience is not given (in the usual form of conformity to the external command), is it objectively defective in the essential moral value of obedience? But the question is not one of theory, as we have repeatedly shown; it is one of interpretation of the "formula" used as a guideline, as a workable living pattern. It is less a question of what is externally done (or not done) on a particular occasion; it is more a ques-tion of what is the psychology behind it and how it could stand with, and not destroy, the genuine psychol-ogy of social obedience. For a person who forms his mind on these personalist lines cannot have a psychological security of absolute norms. He must find a new type of security elsewhere: in the absoluteness of his commitment to Love and to self-giving and to community in the sincerity of his own conscience; in the relative service that he finds for this in the structures of community, with its members, and their offices, and their common acdon. His is the security of committed love and appreciated structures. The "absoluteness" here is genuine but new: it includes the impredictability of human love, and the incalculable progress of providence. This same personalist approach underlies a sense of the Church as the "people" of God, impelled by the Holy Spirit of Love. The Church is a divinely created, supernaturally indefectible home-situation of truly per-sonal love and sacrifice. It is through and in the Church as a community that the voice of eternal Love in Christ comes to the conscience of her members. It is through and in the Church as a community that her members respond to this voice and live their self-gift to others and to Love itself. Ttie Church is being rediscovered as a community; the Constitution on the Church of Vatican II places its chapter on the "people of God" prior to its discussion of the place of the hierarchy within the people of God. The community of the Church is the natural horizon of our love as it is divinized in Christ; the Church in this sense is indeed the pillar and the very "ground" of Love. In this sense she serves the mystery of human love by creating the conditions for it to. be real. In the Church, the hierarchy, vested with the office of liturgical celebration and of missionary ex-pansion of the Church's mystery of love, and vested also with true social authority to rule the people of God, be-comes the pivot and the support of this "ground" of love. This is why the members of the Church, .as they carry each other's burdens and so fulfill the law of love, look on the Church with reverence as their "mother," even when they see her humble limitations. It is not initially a sense of duty and of obedience that binds them to the Church and to the hierhrchy; it is a sense of vocation and of belonging, since they are meant for her and cannot truly love outside of her. "Outside of m~, you can do nothing." This is why the same nuance of obedience enters here within the Church as we noticed on the gen-eral level: the entire problematic of authority-obedience itself serves the deeper problematic of community-love. At pre~ent there is a conflict, within and without the Church, between those who maintain a long established modus vivendi based on and leading to security of ab-solute norms, and those who demand the creation of a new modus vivendi based on and leading to security of committed love. It is certain that the "older" pattern is well established. It is only recently that it has been challenged; and the challenge has been resented, with shock, by the "older" generation. They have experienced a unique insecurity on seeing the very principles of their security openly questioned, on finding the present age disenchanted with the absoluteness of the old ways and seemingly submerged in the pure relativism of love. They have been asked, implicitly at least, to approve patterns of action in others that are completely at variance with their own inner orientation to norm-security and even to accommodate their own mentality and pattern of action to them. They cannot believe that their own generous sacrifice and 'heroic loyalty over a lifetime have been unnecessary and that their conscious foundation of security is chimerical. They tend to harden the "essential" theory of authority-obedience- security, in the language they have always known it, into the one and only workable living pattern they have known and to admit no other. They feel now that the essential props of their security are under attack. It is certain too that the "new" pattern is noble in its inspiration. Because it is noble and even more because it is new, it tends to remain as yet in the order of ideals and even of inspirational "slogans" (for example, "personal fulfillment," the need for "dialogue") and has not yet formed for itself a realistic working pattern. Its ÷ ÷ ÷ Security Void VOLUME 27, 1968 791 + + Kevi~t O'Shea, C.Ss.R. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS idealism is tender to attack and resents the fact that others cannot understand it but reject it and even regard it as harmful. The "new" generation cannot believe that they ought honestly regard their ideals as unreal and settle for the pseudo-satisfaction of security through absolute norms and legal authority. They tend to stiffen their allegiance to their principles and to be insecure precisely because they know they are not yet accepted or put into practice at community level. It is Strange that precisely here the "new" generation may be rather unfaithful to its own principles. Instead of placing their real security in committed love and self-giving, they seem to insist---immediately---on the security of acceptance in the "older" community; they want their values upheld and identified as legitimate and valid, they want to be understood by others and not thought rebels, they want to be integrated, as they are, into their community's way of life and tradition which they feel that they do not violate but practice in a new way. Would that they have all this; but is it primary to their own principles? At all events, a certain paralysis is taking hold of protagonists of both points of view, which is deepening their insecurity. It happens especially where there has been little attempt at renewal of commonity living structures; where a tradition of legalistic obedience has set up a quasi-divine right of the establishment; where a system of bureaucracy or a veil of anonymity or a pro-tection of prestige has been used to give firmness to the status quo without facing the issues; where a policy of "via media" or of "prudence" is used merely to cover a refusal to do anything; where there is a visible split into parties "for" and "against" the new idealism; where in such mental alienation of one group from another, action comes mainly from party politics, dominant personalities, or emotional enthusiasms created by prop-aganda; where unkind name-slinging is used to make real dialogue and acceptance impossible. Here a critical impasse is soon reached; only the external signs of true community remain. Even those who try to remain tran-quil are misjudged; they are thought insincere in the face of a common anxiety. Men go through the motions of what they have always done, or would wish to do, without the fulfillment that ought to come from it. They live in a "security void." It is made acute when they refuse the obvious dilemma of the situation: rebel or accept. The malaise can be cured by neither; neither by open irreverence, public agitation, mental alienation from the whole situation, refusal to cooperate, invocation of one's rights (from legal authority or from conscience), retreat into one's , I work; nor by timidly coveting up and finding a false refuge in permission (of authority or of conscience), or by the cowardice of giving away all serious attempt at idealism (of whatever form) and settling for no security at all. Those who rightly refuse these false avenues know that they have no anchorage left; they are nonplused and beaten. There is a "credibility gap" between themselves and any founded security, a wavering of trust in asking completely serious questions at all. In this fundamental disillusionment they cease to live in the presence of a liberating truth (since they refuse the falsehood of double truth, one of idealism and another of reality). Their life becomes shallow and superficial, and. their work is not reliable. This is the "security void." This study is a diagnosis, not a solution. It can con, dude with a simple suggestion of seven thoughts, to .be pondered in the present crisis. (1) The theory behind the "new" personalist position is m reality no different from the theory behind the "older" essentialist position. On the general level, it is simply expressing the primacy of the person over society and the primacy of charity over the social virtues. On the particular level, the cases where it might admit a refusal of conformity to the authoritative dictate of a superior can well be reduced to cases already well known in traditional moral theology: epikeia, balance of laws, inconveniences, rights of conscience, and so forth. It is true that the expression given to these cases is new; it is emotive and enthusiastic and thereby tending to more difformity than has been allowed in the older working pattern. But this does not prove the theory is incorrect; it proves only that it is ambiguous in its expression as reduced to a working pattern. It is therefore on the level of that working pattern, in practice, that any incor-rectness should be removed. At least, there is room for real "dialogue" in a theoretical agreement on founda-tions. (2) The spirit of the personalist position, as it is typi-cally expressed at present, does not appear to allow suffi-ciently for the role of social authority within a personal communityi and this defect comes from its idealism. Let us grant thi~ idealism absolutely, but let us remember that we are asking it of men who live in a sin,situation and who carry within themselves profound inclinations contrary to gene.rous and sacrificial self-giving in love. The first evidence of these inclinations is the tendency for groups to isolate within a community and to consider the expressions of love that-correspond to their .own idealism without due consideration of the interests and peculiar form of love of other groups. On the very prin-ciples of total lov~ within the total personal community, .!- ÷ ÷ Security Void VOLUME 27, 1968 793 + ÷ ÷ Kevin O'Shea, .Ss.R. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS granting the intrinsic weakness of man, there must be some human authority to determine the forms of authen-tic love for all when need arises; and this authority must be conceded a per se place in the community. The typ-ical personalist expositions at present stress the idealism of what man is called to do somewhat at the expense of the necessary regime for its human realization, a vital part of which is authority. It is possible to rethink the meaning of authority as an inner demand of the personal community. In this way, the tendency to conceive an opposition between the expressions of a responsible authority and the inherent claims 9f love and conscience will weaken; at least, a better balance between the two will be achieved in practice, and in due time the formnlas and the working patterns will be rightly adjusted. (3) But if sin has abounded, grace has abounded even more. In assessing the present situation, we may reason-ably judge that mankind is on the threshold of a sig-nificant evolution in its living experience o[ community and of the meaning of personal love. We must not poison the wells of this inspiration. We must therefore admit, in theory and in practice, that the older static unchal-lenged working pattern of community must also evolve to be more in accord with the new inspiration. Any at-tempt to pin one's security finally in the unchanged positions of old is doomed to failure. To back down before the challenge of the present in the name of the weakness of human nature, which needs a lower stand-ard, is a practical denial of the triumph of grace. (4) This evolution in the living of community-love must of its nature be slow: "i(ll great matters must come to ripening slowly" (Congar). Those who live through the present transition and cause it must have a peculiar patience: a deep-rooted existential conviction that history is slowly changing through the measured pace of their lifetime. To the extent that their love and self-giving is really great, it will have the patience of the times, seconding and not subverting the dynamism by which God is bringing His gracious design to com-pletion in His own manner. It is perhaps in this fidelity to what is perceived as the bvolving character of provi-dence, that a genuine security can be found. Paradox-ically, it is~ patience that engenders hope, and not the reverse! (5) If social authority can and must be given a place de se in the personal community, it can and must also be found a special place de facto in the currently evolving form of personal community. Our original frailty is showing itself in a new facet: our inability to assure the tranquil passage from the older order to the new, evi-denced in the intransigence of some and the impetuosity of others, and the imprudence of all. There is need of a new awareness of humility if we are to engage correctly this exciting and dangerous transition of history. And there is need for,,social authority to recognize a new responsibility: that of assisting, with its own power of juridic firmness, the pattern of change and of progress from one order to the other. In the exercise of this office, social authority will slowly commend itself more truly to the humility our times must learn. (6) St. Thomas once described .the effects of human law as disciplina et pax. No doubt, he envisaged these mightly mysteries in the static culture of his day; but they remain valid, and needed, in the day of dynamic evolution of human living forms that is ours. Our current emergence to greater times must not be turbulent but tranquil; and the tranquility we need we must learn. We can only learn it if all those who make up the human community at present, "old" as well as "new," play their proper roles together. An "o]-der" point of view is neces-sary today to show the new inspiration, which it accepts at root, the realistic way to find its own survival. A "new" point of view is the soul of the upsurge, and its cry is for a love and a self-gift to all; it is necessary that it learn the peace of the future by establishing its own peace in the present, by accepting "togetherness" with those who do not yet appreciate its value and teaching them by deeds what it has not succeeded in communi-cating to them in words. The most unusual trait of the "new order" of love is that it can be created by real love in ariy conditions; it does not depend on special structures or circumstances but relies on its own dyna-mism. If it is to have more desirable conditi6ns in .the future, it must learn to give its own peace to those of the present. (7) Finally, those involved in this development, which means all of us, should be big enough to overlook mis-takes in detail for the greatness of the cause. We must become conscious of who we are in our times and in history; we must live with a sense of our call to the greatness of love together. In this sense, we must know not a "security void" but a "security fulfillment." + ÷ ÷ Security Void VOLUNE.27, 1968 PAUL MOLINARI, S.]. Renewal of Religious Life according to the Founder's Spirit Paul Molinari, s.J., writes from Borgo Santo Spirito, 5; Rome 00100, Italy. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 796 In presenting these few thoughts, I should like to clarify some theological points which have not, I believe, been sutticiently understood when we speak of a return to the origins of each religious institute. The conciliar decree Perfectae caritatis insists on a life of union with Christ, leading us to consider Him not only as the exemplar of the life of a religious but as the very form of this life.I think that this aspect has not been sufficiently stressed, because the wealth of mean-ing of certain rich but very concise expressions of the decree has not been adequately understood. The decree deliberately avoids detail in order not to bind religious life to concrete forms, identical for all, which would pre-vent it from developing freely in Christ. Rather, it sought above all to emphasize that we must make an ef-fort to conceive and live our religious life as one of donation to Christ, in which we must share His way of livin~g, His spirit. Hence the insistence on a supernatural principle. W~ must always keep in mind that the mis-sion of the Church is a continuation of the mission of Christ and that the mission of Christ is specifically su-pernatural. We must realize, therefore, that in order to participate in the mission of Christ, in order to continue it, we must of necessity adopt His criteria. It is pre-cisely a question of a gift of life--the Word made flesh in or,der to give supernatural life, divine life, to man. Participation in the life of Christ is what gives vitality to the Church. Participation in the redeeming sacrifice is what gives life to man. It is the sacrifice of Christ giving His life for the Church that ought to lead re-ligious to give their life for the Church, that is, for the supernatural good of all of the People of God, for a more abundant communication of divine life to the entire fam-ily of man. I insist on this point precisely because today there is, at times, a tendency to stress almost exclusively the necessity of adapting the exterior apostolate and of bringing it into line with the possibilities offered by modern technological society or to concentrate almost exclusively on the social apostolate of the Church. We must not forget, however, that Christ's apostolate is not only, nor even principally, a social apostolate but a supernatural apostolate: the communication of divine life. This presupposes that we can and often ought to see to the material needs of man and interest ourselves in serious and pressing questions of social justice, but our apostolate does not stop there. We must above all consider the supernatural value of religious life as such, the value of this self-donation which, even though it may remain unperceived, attains something very precious for others on a supernatural level precisely because it is a donation, a sacrifice of self, In this context, I would like to point out that we tend too easily to overestimate the criterion of exterior effi-cacy and of visible success. Is it not true that, when Christ died on the cross, the efficacy of this sacrifice of His entire life could not be seen? It is important to emphasize this at a time when the profound value of self-donation is being called into question precisely be-cause so little is said about the guiding principle of the Lord in His apostolate. Moved by the Spirit, He spent Himself, He delivered Himself on the cross. That is the force of the Spirit. We find ourselves here in the realm of faith. In the light of faith we begin to understand the value of a life hidden in Christ, of a life of im-molation, a life of love, a life which gives up its life for others--and nothing is more beautiful than to lay down our life for others. The ultimate solution to the crisis in contemporary religious life can be found in the realization of religious life as a life of self-donation. Not that religious life should lead merely to the interior life. On the contrary, it will lead us to a great activity; it must express itself exteriorly but in such a way that it is supernatural in character. It is along these lines that we can find a solution to today's problems, particularly those concerning the social apostolate. At this point, I quote those beautiful phrases contained in the decree Per[ectae caritatis: Fired by the love which the Holy Spirit pours out in their hearts, they live their lives ever increasingly for Christ and for his Body which is the Church. Consequently, the more fervent their union with Christ through this giving of themselves, which includes the whole of their lives, the richer the life of ÷ ÷ ÷ Founder"s Spirit VOLUME 27, 1968 797 REVIEW FOR RELIG~OU5 798 the Church becomes and the more fruitful her apostolate (n. 1). The gospel brings out that the characteristic note of Christ's mission was His docility to the Holy Spirit. I think that this is why the decree insists so much~ on the Holy Spirit, His action in the Church and in the soul of founders. If Christ, the head of the Church, began His mission led by the Spirit, the Incarnation itself being the work of the Spirit, the Church, which is the Mysti-cal Body of Christ, likewise ought to be docile to the Spirit. The Church, as such, tries to be so, and she has the permanent assistance of the Holy Spirit, her soul: Christ, having been lifted up from the earth, is drawing all men to himself. Rising from the dead, he sent his life-giving Spirit upon his disciples and through this Spirit has established his body, the Church, as the universal sacrament of salvation. Sitting at the right hand of the Father, he is continually .active in the world, leading men to the Church and through her joining them more closely to himself and making them par-takers of his glorious life by nourishing them with his own body and blood. Therefore, the promised restoration which we are awaiting has already begun in Christ, is carried forward in the mission of the Holy Spirit, and through him continues in the Church (Lumen gentium n. 48). In virtue of the same principle, each member of the Church should likewise follow the motions of the life-giving Spirit. We are touching here on one of the most fundamental principles of the religious life and of the Church. As the conciliar document Perfectae caritatis says, the Holy Spirit has raised up in the Church men and women who founded religious families. These souls were called to a providential mission in the Church and were particularly docile to the action of the Holy Spirit: Indeed from the very beginning of the Church men and women have set about following Christ with greater freedom and imitating him more closely through the practice of the evangelical counsels, each in his own way leading a life dedi-cated to God. Many of them, under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, lived as hermits or founded religiou~families, which the Church gladly welcomed and approved by her authority. So it is that in accordance with the Divine Plan a wonderful variety of religious communities has grown up which has made it easier for the Church not only to be e~u!pped for every good work and ready for the work of the mlnxstry--the build-ing up of the Body of Christ--but also to appear adorned with the various gifts of her children like a spouse adorned for her husband and for the manifold Wisdom of God to be revealed through her (Perfectae caritatis, n. I). The Spirit who led Christ is the same Spirit who leads those who are united to Christ and in whom, as with docile instruments, He can more freely carry on the salvific mission of communicating divine life to His Church and to all mankind. With these theological principles in mind, it is easier to understand that while the. cardinal point of renewal is the Gospel and total, unconditional surrender and consecration to the redeem-ing Christ, another is precisely the docility and fidelity of members of a religious institute to the spirit of their founder. Actually, the mission of Christ is not yet completed; it continues in the Church which must remain faithful to His inspiration. This is why charismatic graces, that is divine inspirations given in view of certain apostolic necessities, continue to be given to the Church. These graces are evident in a special way in all those who have truly given their heart to the Lord and who, without setting any conditions or limits, allow themselves to be guided by God, that is to say the saints and those great charismatic leaders, the founders and foundresses of re-ligious families. But while this action of the Holy Spirit is particularly visible in the soul of founders, it does not stop with them. The same Spirit, wishing to continue the mission that He has entrusted to the founders ~for the sake of the Church, acts in the soul of each member of the People of God and calls some of them to follow our Lord and dedicate their lives to the institutes established by these holy men and women. It is as i£ the Holy Spirit sent a ray of light which filled the soul of: the founder. This ray continues on, through the founder, until it reaches the soul of those who are called to a certain religious family. It is a ray of light which has its own particular characteristics and limitations. It is thus that institutes receive a specific mission from the Holy Spirit. For this reason there is a variety of institutes in the Church, which are all necessary. And the Holy Spirit inspires and continues to inspire the members of all religious families but in different ways, according to their specific task in the Church. It is in this sense that St. Paul, while dealing with the Mystical Body, speaks of the di-versity of functions within the Church; and there is no doubt that this variety is very good for the Church. It is extremely important, therefore, that religious know what the authentic spirit of their founder or foundress is and that they share it consciously. This is what the Council intended when it invited religious, especially in view of the renewal of their life, to discover anew the riches of this spirit and to find life-giving in-spiration in it. For that reason, the motu proprio Ec-clesiae sanctae says it is essential for each religious family to study the sources and to go down to the real roots of their institute. It is, therefore, indispensable in 4- VOLUME 27, 1968 ÷ ÷ Paul Molinari~ $.J. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 8OO the preparation for special chapters charged with putting into practice the Council's teachings and directives, to engage in serious and searching study concerning the charism of the founder or foundress and to discover new depths concerning the authentic inspiration which gave birth to any given institute. It is obvious that in many cases a good number of studies have already been made on this precise point, and these studies can and ought to be judiciously used. It would be an error, nevertheless, to limit such research to an analysis of these studies, because each generation has its own sensitivity, its own special g~ace for discovering certain accents, and is struck by elements which previous generations prob-ably knew of but did not make use of with the same de-gree of explicit understanding. What happens in biblical exegesis and in the authentic evolution of dogma and theology is likewise true of the progressive understanding of what the Holy Spirit wished to start with founders and continues, through their mediation, throughout the ages in the institutes which He raised up in the Church. Precisely because we are dealing here with an interven-tion of God Himself in the history of the Church and of an initiative that He wishes to prolong and renew, not only today but also in the future, it is imperative that this search for the true spirit of a founder or foundress be done with complete objectivity. In no way is it permis-sible to base such a study on feelings or on interpreta-tions and intuitions which are more or less subjective. Reverence for the work of God in the soul of the founder as well as reverence for the divine vocation by which we were called to become a member of our religious in-stitutes requires that we remain humbly open to God's light. In no way should we try to make the divine grace given to the founder coincide violently or arbitrarily with our limited personal ideas. On the contrary, the action of the Holy Spirit in the soul of the founder ought to be our point of reference ]n examining our own way of thinking and acting. Much is being said today about the discernment of spirits. But this is exactly what the Church has been concerned with in regard to founders. We have the as-surance that they were acting under a charismatic im-pulse. We, in turn, participate in this same impulse to the degree that we are faithful to the grace which called us to our religious family, and that we let it de-velop and grow in us. It must be noted in this context that while the Church invites us to recognize loyally the spirit of our origins, she does not at all exclude the possibility that this spirit may find different expressions throughout the .ages. There is a tendency, at times, to identify the spirit of the founders with their works. But the spirit gave life to a work; it determined its beginning. It can happen that, as time passes, a work, begun with an intention largely determined by the needs and circumstances of the age and place in which the founder lived, has changed. In present day conditions, it may no longer b~ possible to continue these same works or, due to exterior circum-stances, to carry them on in the same way as when they were begun. Fidelity to the letter can thus become in-fidelity to the spirit of the founder. In other words, it is not sufficient simply to make an historical catalog of our works. We must try to see them, spiritually and integ-rally,~ from the inside, in order to seize the inspiration which animated the founder when he acted. It is only if we succeed in grasping this profound inspiration that we shall find, at the same time, that true fidelity to the founder which the Church is asking usa to preserve in deciding what adaptations are to be made. If the spirit of the founder is a living reality to us, we shall likewise be able to formulate it adequately in modern language, fully in accord with the contemporary situation. To be truly faithful, we must go to the very heart of the mat-ter, that is, go to the very root of the reasons why the founder acted and discover the ultimate criteria of the choices he made. We must not be content with discover-ing what the founder did; we have to discover why, whether we have grasped the inner inspiration. While reflecting so openly and clearly on this essen-tial principle, I want to make a brief point dictated by charity, justice, wisdom. It is well known that on the occasion of special chapters in all religious institutes, there is an atmosphere of unrest among truly generous religious who are loyal both to the Church and to their institute. This uneasiness is ultimately caused by an in-adequate understanding of the principles which have just been stated. On the one hand, there are religious who do not understand clearly enough that the concrete expression of the identical spirit of the founder c/m, and even ought to change according to the circumstances and mentality of succeeding generations. Every innovation, consequently, seems' to them to be a departure from the authentic spirit of the founder and, as such;' inadmissi-ble. On the other hand, there are also religious who, with a certain naivet~ which is no less serious, proclaim loudly that only the present generation has discovered the true spirit of the founder and that former genera-tions did not understand it at all. The mutual error of these two tendencies is simply that they both think that one, and only one, generation can discover once and for all what the authentic spirit of the founder is, exhaust the wealth of its possibilities, and determine defi'nitively 4, 4, Fou~w~$ ,Sp~r~g " VOLUME 27, 1968 4" 4" 4" Paul Molinari, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 8O2 all possible authentic expressions of this spirit. But, as we have already said, such a conception errs by not taking into account human limitations and historical sense. Each generation of religious has its own strong points and its own deficiencies, it own profound intui-tions as well as its own task. It is precisely along these lines, with the greatest reverence and objectivity, that each generation of rel.igious should look towards the authentic origins of their institute and delve into the heritage of its founder's authentic inspiration. In this process of humble and reverent seeking, which is at the same time both painful and liberating, each generation should make the charism of the founder and the in-stitute their own. Each generation, through prayer, med-itation, and study, should seek to find out, according to the spirit of the founder, what ought to be kept or abandoned in the present day. As can be seen, this work is both very necessary and very delicate, requiring hum-ble and utter abnegation. But if we understand that the true patrimony of the Church and the task of renewal are at stake, we shall not be afraid to renounce personal points of view or preferences in order to go wherever the Holy Spirit may lead us. Experience teaches us, moreover, that such a return to the authentic origins of an institute is not only possible but also extraordinarily fruitful. There is immediately a very keen and positive reaction when anyone speaks with competence to religious men and women about the documents left by their founder or about his life. I am sure that we have all already experienced this. Can it be explained in any other way except by the fact that men-tion was made of something that the Holy Spirit had already put in the heart of these religious? If they are put into direct contact with the sources of their institute, they explicitly find in them what they were formerly more or less conscious of and which had led them to one particular religious family and not another. The Spirit of God gives a certain sort of interior spiritual sensitivity and a spontaneous inclination towards the spirit of the founder and its authentic manifestations. If religious are brought into direct contact with the spirit of the founder, they are moved to ever greater generosity and immediately pass to a higher plane. Many people can thus be helped to overcome their difficulties, precisely because the very root of their life has been touched. It goes without saying, moreover, that this life-giving con-tact with the authentic inspiration of the founder greatly facilitates responsible adaptation to conditions and cir-cumstances of time and place. This is obviously the reason why the conciliar decree Per[ectae caritatis de- clares that any adaptation ought to come forth as a pre-cious fruit of interior renewal, that is of a return to the gospel and to the authentic spirit Of. the founder. Let us now say a word about the concrete manner of proceeding in this extremely delicate and important matter. Experience seems to bear out the following: Af-ter the religious have been informed of work done on the sources and after they have been invited to meditate on the different aspects of renewal and even to give their opinions in writing, it is a good practice to gather to-gether those who have showed special interest in the subject, especially those who likewise have a good scien-tific preparation. Ask them to study the documents and everything that has been done previously in the way of research and analysis in order to bring to light the outstanding elements, that is, those which recur con-stantly in the thought of the founder. The outcome will not all be the same because each one has his own per-sonality and way of looking at things; but by comparing the results, a sufficiently objective view will be obtained which will permit the characteristic elements of the life and thought of the founder to be isolated. These in turn will help orient the work of renewal. When it is time to rewrite the constitutions, they can be based on the discoveries made, without fear of changing or modi-fying illegitimately the thought of the founder which these objective studies will have brought out more clearly. The next step is to compare these results with the life, constitutions, and works of today. This will be rela-tively easy if the fundamental points have already been clarified. The various editions of the constitutions, pro-mulgated at different stages in the history of the in-stitute, should be examined to see what elements have been forgotten or not sufficiently emphasized. This type of research can contribute notably to a greater direct knowledge of the sources and will bring to light again the true thought of the founder. If this research is car-ried on according to these objective criteria and is al-ways inspired by theologically and spiritually sound principles, a naive desire of change for the sake of change will be avoided. On the contrary, if changes are necessary or opportune, they will be made without great interior difficulty because all will see more clearly what Gods wants of us and how. He is asking us to mani-fest our fidelity to the authentic spirit of the founder. It is equally obvious that, in the same way, we can more easily avoid those distressing internal divisions among members of the same institute since all will have the conviction that the changes proposed are based on a ÷ ÷ ÷ Founder's Spirit VOLUME 27 19e,8 80,~ , 4. .4. Paul Molinari~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 8O4 common desire to correspond fully to what is under-stood to be the true spirit which gave rise to the in-stitute and its authentic charism. In the same way,-it will likewise be easier to decide What changes must be made in the exterior life and even in the works of the institute. We say that it will be easier, because when it comes to works, there are naturally other problems which are generally very seri-ous and which cannot be naively ignored. But I am con-vinced that if, first of all, everyone is in agreement on the essential lines of renewal according to the spirit of the founder, courage will more easily be found when all are working together in the solidarity of a chapter. If, for example, the members of a chapter 'clearly see that today certain works no longer correspond to what the founder wanted in his day, it should be easier /or the chapter to take clear and decided decisions, without causing profound dissensions, without sidestepping the solution and without leaving all the most serious deci-sions to the sole authority of the superior general and. his council. Would it not be better for the chapter, which truly represents the institute, to take essential decisions, basing them on a greater knowledge of the spirit and charism of the founder and his work, and thus tracing the way for times to come? In answer to Christ's call, religious left all things to ,follow Him, that is, to go with Christ wherever He wishes to go. It seems evident that Christ wishes to go where the needs are the most urgent. One of the things that we would do well to consider when we speak of union with Christ in the religious life is that it is not simply a question of going out to the poor but of leaving all things, and following Christ in a spirit of donation and complete availability. This can sometimes mean leaving well established works that are running well but which, having reached the point where they do run well, no longer need us. In such cases, led by the spirit of the founder, we should go where social condi-tions are more or less similar to those that prompted the founder to act in his day. It is then that we have truly vital contact with the authentic spirit of the founder. In a certain sense, it can be said that where this spirit adaptatioh is' found, religious live in closer union with the spirit of the founder. Indeed, when, as it were, the very soul of the founder has been refound, there is no crisis in religious life and vocations are not lacking. It is clear that those souls who have followed their founder .most closely have found, under the motion of the Holy Spirit, what they were seeking. Naturally, it would be absurd to maintain that all present-day works of religious should be abandoned or that all need to be adapted or again that all changes should be made instantly. We must, however, have the courage to face these questions honestly and to solve them with the same courage that characterized the action of founders, the courage of the saints. It is worthwhile meditating, in this light, on the fol-lowing words of His Eminence, Cardinal Agagianian, Prefect of the Sacred Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith: Evolution has considerably modified the physiognomy of Christianity and the sign value of this type of Institution. Where formerly there were charitable works to answer press-ing social needs there is now state socialization or the national-ization of an entire sector. If this has not been done yet, it is at least the intention of young governments and is being planned by large official international organizations. Are not our institutions, which were begun with such generosity and which answered such authentic social needs, now anachronistic, technically .surpassed, not viable financially, lacking true Christian witness value since other official organisms which are better equipped have taken charge of this sector? We must therefore avoid duplication, useless waste, unequal competi-tion, and rethink our activity, which must be missionary to the greatest possibl~, degree and carried on in the light of an apostolic vision which is more freshly evangelical. It is a ques-tion of discovering the true exigencies of the hour, of estab-lishing priorities, and of effectuating our own "reconversion" by turning to work which is doubtlessly socially less spectacula~ but which is more specifically a work of the Church, a work which is directly missionary in scope and character. At the present time, religious must be very open to the grace of the Spirit in order to follow Christ effectively and continue His mission. We should all clearly un-derstand that the charismatic grace given to the founder and his institute is a call from God, a talent which has been confided to us. God asks that the talents He gives be well used. We must not be afraid to make them fructify. Such a fear should never paralyze our generosity and our donation to Christ. It is therefore not enough, necessarily, to keep works just as they are. They must be made to bear the greatest amount of fruit possible. How can this be done? That is where the difficulty lies. It is certainly not permissible simply to keep the capital. If the apostolic return amounts only to 2% or 3%, we must ask ourselves if this capital could not be used in a better way. If we consider the exigencies of the Lord, we can more calmly envisage the fact that the decisions to be taken will sometimes lead to very serious changes, but we must accept them in a spirit of love and fidelity to the true charism of the founder and his work. But we must consider more specifically and more ex-plicitly the ecclesial dimension of our personal vocation as well as the vocation of our institute. The institute is part of the Church and it has a specific function within ÷ ÷ ÷ the Church. It is a living part of the Church and it will have life insofar as it accepts its function for the sake of the Church. This will help us to penetrate more and more into our vocation of being available for the service of Christ and His Church. We will experience the joy of giving life, the consciousness of being the grain of wheat which falls to the ground and dies, and to bear fruit a hundredfold. Problems will find their solution in this deeper vision of religious life as a life of union with Christ in order to continue, in Him and with Him, His mission of communicating divine life to man. 4, ÷ Paul Molinad~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 80fi SISTER M. DENIS, S.O.S New Trends in Community Living Something which has existed since the beginning, that we have heard, and we have seen with our own eyes; that we have watched and touched with our hands: the Word who is life-- this is our subject. That life was made visible; we saw it and we are giving our testimony, telling you of the eternal life which was with the Father and has been made visible to us; we are telling you so that you too may be in union with us, as we are in union with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ. --1 John 1: I-3 In* these opening lines of John's First Epistle, he is trying to translate into a multiplicity of feeble human concepts and words, Life itself which is not many but one, not a thing but a person--the triune Person of the Godhead. When discussing the "new trends in commu-nity living" with you, I shall attempt to follow the exam-ple of John. Words are a very necessary component of human communication, but nevertheless annoying. As soon as we describe a reality we break it into parts and tend to give the impression that if every part described is present, we have the reality itself. Rather, the reality of community that I hope to translate into practical and concrete terms, is not composite but one--permeated with the dynamism of that divine incarnated union John spoke of. Unfortunately, that dynamism cannot be put into Words; it must be lived and experienced. Therefore, the approach in this paper will be experi- * This is the text of an address given in May, 1968, to a meeting of Canadian major superiors. ÷ ÷ ÷ Sister M. Denis, S.O.S., writes from 62 Hargrave St.; Winnipeg 1, Mani-toba; Canada. VOLUME 27, 1968 80~ ÷ ÷ Sister M. Denis~ $.0.5. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 808 ential and practical and not a rephrasing of the excellent literature on community with which you are familiar. First, we shall examine the bases or principles upon which community is created, investigate the trends evi-dent in community living today, attempt to describe the type of community life that is unfolding from these trends, and propose some practical ways of effecting the transition from the present structures of community life to that form toward which we are evolving. Rather than burden you with another definition of community, I would prefer a descriptive approach. We are well aware of the different kinds of communities that exist among men. There is the natural community of the family and the artificial or contrived community of the organization, society, or state. All too often, we have described the religious com-munity solely in terms of one ot~ these two societies: our terminology of mother, father, brother, sister, reflects the familial concept; and our highly structured religious corporations betray the organizational concept. Al-though religious community can benefit from aspects of these two basic human groupings, we must with deep faith live the essence of religious community as an en- Spirited or Spirit-filled community: "Father, may they be one in us, as you are in me and I am in you, so that the world may believe it was you who sent me" (Jn 17:21). To the individual person who has embraced the re-ligious life, what then is community? I enter community so that I may begin to gift myself to others, to give the life I have to another, and to re-ceive from them in the same way; and this transmitting, this sharing of life, of wholeness is carried over into my apostolate. This life is given and received in faith be-cause the life or dynamism of community that permeates it is not my own--it is the life of the Spirit, the Spirit of Christ who shows us the Father; my gift to God-~a gift which has come from Him in the first pIace--is to give life to others by the life that is in me. True community, therefore, is created, not structured or legislated. PRINCIPLES The principles or bases upon which an en-Spirited community is created must be grasped, not only intel-lectually, but also experientially by every member in the community, although not necessarily to the same extent or depth. None of these principles stand alone; rather they are interdependent and interrelated. Trinitarian The ultimate model of en-Spirited community is the trinitarian life as it is lived by Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. We have heard this so often that we tend to dis-miss it as another cliche. What does it mean in actual practice? It means that each person in community must be and do what God Himself through Christ and in the Spirit is and does: namely, He gathers, unites, establishes communion. How? By communication. Supportive words, other means of communicating love give life to another, as the Father begets His Son, the Word. This gift to one another and the response from one another engenders love--the Spirit. It is at this point where Trinity and en-Spirited community merge. ~lgape. If this trinitarian love-life is incarnated and experi-enced, the cohesive bond in community is the living agape of Christ, not the force of rule or custom. We must have the courage to examine and question the place of rule in religious life. In actual fact, which has frequently taken precedence---our holy rule or the gospel? The experience of agape is an entirely new human ex-perience. It is this gift of God--the Spirit. Pagans could only look at the early Christian community and exclaim: "See how these Christians love one another." But the words "love" or "charity" are, at best, a weak transla-tion. Agape is the knowledge and love of God--that very dynamism of the Trinity itself--which, through a free gift of God, has been incarnated, embodied in human community--a Spirit-filled community. Peace and joy, in which are contained all the other fruits of the Spirit, characterize such a religious community. The ultimate expression of agape is the love feast itself--the Eucharist. The en-Spirited or agape community is effected by the liturgy--when members are conscious of communicating or uniting themselves together in Christ. In turn, their liturgical expression is intensified by their community life. Incarnational Spirituality In order that community reflect trinitarian life or agape--which are different expressions of the same real-ity- the spirituality upon which it is based must be truly incarnational. Again we are back to the importance of faith. If the Son of God, the Word, became flesh, be-came incarnate, then the world, the whole world is "shot through with the grandeur of God," as Hopkins wrote. We cannot arbitrarily determine which particular ma-terial signs signify the presence of Christ; this is an in-sidious form of idolatry. Worse still, we cannot attempt first to establish a relationship with the transcendent God and then go out to other people. Because of the Incarnation, the transcendent God has been revealed to + ÷ Community Living VOLUME 27, 1968 809, ÷ ÷ Sisger M. Denis, $.0.S. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 810 us precisely as immanent. This immanence is continued in the world through the gift of the Spirit. The experi-ence of agape, the witness of a Spirit-filled community, is the experiential embodiment of this transcendence. In community agape we realize the fullness of the In-carnation. Respect for the Integrity of the Individual Person Community is not achieved through uniformity; but in practice our preoccupation with uniformity often militates against that respect for tl~e integrity of the individual person so necessary for the developme.nt of an en-Spirited community. This respect involves accept-ance first of ourselves as we are--not as we would like to be. We must risk taking off our masks, not only to others, but also to ourselves, and be truly authentic. I never realized what a mask the traditional habit could be until a few summers ago at the Superior's Conference in Portland, Oregon. During the day we walked around very conscious of religious decorum and dignity. When the magic hour of 2:00 p.m. struck, we converged on the swimming pool. As each layer of clothing came off, the person emerged. This respect [or the integrity of the person involves acceptance ot another in the same way---as they are and not as we would like them to be. If we love only those who share our ideas, our thoughts and aspirations, then we are merely loving an extension of ourselves. We must love what is truly the other--in which there is nothing of oneself. This acceptance is a respect based not on toleration or on charity or even because we see Christ in another; rather this respect is based on the unique dignity created in that person by God Him-self. Often we bypass this unique dignity for "good and noble reasons." Our acceptance and love should always be based on the person, not dependent on their actions. This is a great danger in community life, where we do 'not have the natural ties of blood as in the family and where much stress is placed on uniformity. Community, as we have been describing it, is not necessarily the common life. This communal acceptance involves a sharing, an openness with one another dictated not on my terms but by the other person's real needs for growth. In listening to the conversation of some religious I get the impression that self-fulfillment is selfishness, not selflessness. We only"receive when we give. And very often giving hurts. Serf-fulfillment is the very mystery of the death-resurrection of Christ incarnated and re-peated in the lives of men and women. Originality, Creativity The external structures of the en-Spirited community --structures which may take many and varied forms according to times and places--should always leave room for the development of originality and creativity among its members. I am merely stating in concrete terms the theological problem of institution versus charism. Spontaneous .4 ction Closely related to the need for originality and crea-tivity is the need for spontaneous action in community. A few years ago I read an examination of conscience in which was the question: "Have I organized myself so intensely that I have no time for spontaneous generos-ity?" We might well ask the question on the com-munal level. Is our day so laid out, charges so spelled out, that members function as automatons--cheerfully perhaps, but not spontaneously? Responsibility Finally, true community fosters responsibility, the ability to respond. Men and women can come to good-ness only through a knowing and free choice. The other side of the coin is a sharing in the authority on which responsibility depends; and this authority, in turn, is derived, from the community. Members are responsible to one another personally and to the group collectively. The religious or Spirit-filled community, therefore, is based on the agape-life of the Trinity as incarnated among men. Its growth and development depends upon the respect for the integrity of the individual person with the necessary correlatives of personal authenticity and acceptance. Desirable structures permit and foster originality, creativity, responsibility, and spontaneous action both individually and collectively. CURRENT TRENDS With these principles in mind we shall now attempt to describe the current trends among religious in Can-ada, trends which will affect community living. These trends were gleaned from the recent reports of the eight round-table discussion teams which were organized across Canada by the Canadian Religious Congress to contribute to a survey of religious life. In this era of post-Vatican II, we are coutinually reminded to be alert to the signs of the times, to significant indications or movements in a parti.cular direction. Whether the trend be evaluated as good or bad, as desirable or un-desirable, it remains, nevertheless, the voice of the Spirit speaking to us. Discernment of the message is not as easy as discernment of the trend. 4. ÷ Community Living VOLUME 27, 1968 811 Sister M. Den~s, $.0~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ,4 ttitudes Very evident is the evolution of new and more posi-tive attitudes among religious. In relation to the in-stitution, there is a greater respect for the person and the charisms of the individual. Religious place a priority of being over seeming, of the person over the actions. The false dichotomy between body and soul is diminished. A new appreciation for the "world" which has lost many of its former negative connotations is evidenced in an understanding of eschatology as be-ginning here below in the form of earthly happiness. Therefore, there is less stress on the'negative aspect of sacrifice and a grea~er emphasis on a joyful, more positive asceticism. Resurrection, not death is predomi-nant. There is a tendency to diminish the artificial distinction between the natural and the supernatural. Thus, the religious sees his or her dedication to Christ and to mankind as one. This unifying trend involves a rejection of the logical distinction between the transcend.- ent God and the immanent God, where the existential is concerned. Spirituality The incarnational spirituality that has evolved from these attitudes integrates human values and identifies "human experience" and the "experience of God." God is encountered .at work in the world present in and through human realities. Throughout the entire study there was evidence of a strong trend toward assuming a more personal responsi-bility for one's life of faith involving a renewed self-commitment. Thins desire for personal responsibility and the previously mentioned attitudes have strongly in-fluenced the trends in the prayer life of Canadian re, ligious today. In the search for new and authentic forms of prayer, none of the traditional forms have escaped honest scrutiny. Although religious believe in the necessity of prayer, the form or expression of this prayer is radically changing, primarily due to a new understanding of prayer in which there is no separation between prayer and action. Looking upon everything as prayer, especially encounter with others, was a very pronounced trend. Therefore, religious desire more freedom in their prayer life--with a structural minimum that gives more consideration to personal needs, that encourages authenticity, and that is adapted to the rhythm suited to the life each one is leading. The daily obligation for Mass is. questioned because of the need for' respecting the personal spiritual rhythm of the religious. In the celebration of the Eucharist, the re- ligious insist less on the idea of sacrifice and more on the notions of communion and gathering. There is an increased trend toward community encounter in the Eucharist within the parish community. Because of their strong faith in the value of interpersonal relationships and group accomplishment, the trends indicate the de-sire of religious for group reflection in prayer. Prayer is no longer a private matter but is becoming a means fulfilling the need for an expression of friendship and human support. The place of God in prayer is not thereby lessened, because of the identity of "human experience" and "the experience of God." The starting point of prayer--personal or communal --is likewise incarnational--an event, something con-nected with themselves, the needs of the world as re-vealed in continuing salvation history--more than the speculative knowledge of a transcendent God. Institution Religious from coast to coast are questioning--not theoretically but existentially--the meaning and purpose of religious life itself. The reports indicate, however, that this scrutiny is not negative, but positive--in spite of the front page articles in the NCR. Structures are not disregarded but desired if they help real personal commitment. Community of life, however, takes prece-dence over institution which is understood as something to help community of life, to make and keep its mem-bers more fully human persons. The institution is re-jected under certain aspects because of unfortunate ex-periences resulting from harshness, impersonalism, legal-ism, and paternalism. Rule Regarding the rule, the trend is toward getting away from the traditional rule because it no longer measures up to the needs of the time. Also evident is a lack of regard for unnecessary canonical legislation. Religious women, in particular, are resentful of the paternalism manifested toward them by the Sacred Congregation of Religious and in canon law. External Signs Also strong is the trend to reject archaic signs of identification as religious. These externals, such as the habit, the canonical cloister, the rule, community con-trols, are seen as objectionable to the extent that they separate the religious from the secular world. These religious wish to remove the barriers imposed by monastic influences of another age. ÷ ÷ ÷ Community Living VOLUME 27, 1968 813 Silence Closely connected to their notions on spirituality, prayer, and religious structures are the views of religious on silence. They admit the value of silence but not according to traditional concepts. Personal silence is valuable as a means to encountering the other; it is closely related to charity. Rather than an absence of words, silence is an inner attitude. Thus, they refuse to keep a conformist silence or silence of rule considered for its own sake. Size oI Community Especially strong are the desire and the realization of riving in small homogeneous groups because of the need for human interpersonal relationships, for authenticity, for the development of the person. In this way, religious desire to bear effective witness both to poverty and to service. Thus there is a trend toward experimen-tation in this more fraternal way of life: some are living in smaller groups; others are living in apartments. Secular World Today's religious desire to socialize more naturally wid~ other people. In fact, there is evidence of a trend toward seeking fraternity outside the usual religious community group. On the one hand, some see this trend as a reaction against an incorrectly understood type of ¯ community life; on the other hand, some see this as an overflow of the love that is established in true com-munity. Whatever be the case, we must attempt to read the signs of the times; if a person does not find accept-ance and human fellowship within the community, he will seek it elsewhere. Increased activity in the secular world is practically a fait accompli for most religious who are now reading contemporary books, going to movies, taking part in politics, and maintaining contact with the world of art and artists. 4- 4- 4- Sister M. Denis~ S.0.5. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS .4 uthority Religious admit that they will readily sh~re personal experiences with their fellow religious but less willingly with one who is in authority--a spiritual director or a superior. The authority figure in practice is not yet seen as a friend. Strongly rejecting paternalism, religious do not wish to be dependent upon a superior. Authority itself is not rejected; religious still see the necessity of someone in charge of the group. But this person--the superior--should be an available and approachable moderator--one among brothers. Authority is seen as service and coresponsibility. There is a trend, but not yet clearly defined, toward a concept of shared authority with joint responsibility in view of the good of the group. Because of the dignit

Issue 50.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1991. ; Review for Religious Volume 50 Number 2 March/April 1991 Beyond the Liberal Model Exiting from Religious Life Thoughts about Science and Prayer The Death of Dearly Loved~Friends 50/~INIVERSARY VOLUME REVIEW FOR RELIGIOIJS (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at St. Louis University by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus; Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard, Room 428: St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-535-3048. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to REVIEW I:Oa REI.IGIOUS; |~.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Subscription rates: Single copy $3.50 plus mailing costs. One-year subscription $15.00 plus mailing costs: two-year subscription $28.00 plus mailing costs. See inside back cover for subscription informa-tion and mailing costs. © 1991 REVIEW FOR REt,mloUS. David L. Fleming, S.J. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Michael G. Harter, S.J. Elizabeth McDonough, O.P. Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Editor Associate Edito'rs Canonical Counsel Editor Assistant Editors David J. Hassel, S.J. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Wendy Wright, Ph.D. Advisory Board Mary Margaret Johanning, S.S.N.D. Sean Sammon, F.M.S. Suzanne Zuercher, O.S.B. March/Api'il 1991 Volume 50 Number 2 Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor should be sent to RF:\'mw FOR RF:LtGtOt~S; 3601 Lindell Boulevard; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" shnuld be addressed Io Elizabeth McDonough, O.P.; 5001 Eastern Avenue; P.O. Box 29260; Washington, D.C. 20017. Back issues should be ordered from REVtEW ~'o~ REt.mto~Js; 3601 Lindell Boulevard; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of Print" issues are available from University Microfilms International: 300 N. Zeeb Road; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to: Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. PRISMS. When we Christians refer to the centrality of the paschal mystery, we mean that Jesus' passion, death, and resurrection somehow remain the necessary pattern for our human living in relation to God. In the gospels, Jesus often uses nature images or parables of human activity to point us towards the pattern of his dying and rising--a pat-tern in which we all who are his followers profess to share. Today it seems that we easily turn to the seed dying to bring forth life or to the metamorphosis of caterpillar to butterfly to gain insight into our way of human growth or maturity. Yet we find it hard to go from the dark beauty of nature imagery to the stark reality of Christ on a cross. So, too, the contemporary patterns of various psychological growth models can be-come so enlightening for our understanding of human development that they seem to transfix our gaze. We may stop short of viewing our mod-els through the stronger lens of a Christian optic. We should not be ungrateful that we can make use today of helpful imagery from nature and models from psychology in order that we may better understand and respond to a particularly confusing time in our world and in our Church, in religious life and in priesthood, in the fam-ily and in the parish. But the pattern of Christ--with his presence en-abling us to enter once again into his paschal mystery--remains central to our Christian focus on life issues. Rather than being confronted with a transition darkness relieved only by images and metaphors, we as Chris-tians believe that we are always being summoned into the mystery of God's transforming action breaking into the vagaries of our natural and human worlds. We struggle neither as victims nor as "Rambo" fight-ers. Instead, we are invited once again to ally ourselves with the Lord in bringing about God's reign more fully into our own lives and into the world we affect. Because our God is a God always actively working with our created world, we live and pray and work in a loving relationship with God--always developing and being purified, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad. The elements of passion, death, and resurrection are touched upon in various ways by various articles in this issue. Our first article, "A Personal Memoir: The Arrupe Years," by Roland Faley, T.O.R., is a unique tribute to the former Jesuit superior general Pedro Arrupe, who died on February 5, 1991. Arrupe provided leadership and gave hope to 161 162 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 many religious congregations through much of the paschal-mystery times for religious life following upon Vatican II; he himself suffered his own paschal mystery through a debilitating stroke in 1981, then through the difficult time when a papal delegate was imposed upon the Jesuits, and finally through his lingering half-life over.the past seven years since his resignation as general. In the darkness of religious-life renewal, an image of reweaving has captured the imagination of many. From her perspective of working with many religious groups in renewal efforts, Elizabeth McDonough, O.P., in "Beyond the Liberal Model: Quo Vadis?" assesses some of the strands of reweaving efforts and makes her own effort to suggest ways towards deeper faith realities that remain unrealized at present. Grappling with the reality of the paschal mystery in the hard deci-sions about existence facing some religious congregations is the subject of the article by.Marie Beha, O.S.C. Eileen O'Hea, C.S.J., considers the dying process of the individual who considers leaving a religious com-munity and the needed response of the community. Renee Yann, R.S.M., reflects on the power of community in the special moment of the death of dearly loved friends. Three articles on pray,.: may shed some light as we move through some dark passages in our ever developing love-life with God. Benedict Auer, O.S.B., expands the Benedictine lectio approach with some in-sights into the use of videos. Edgar Bourque, A.A., inculturates an Augustinian way of praying into our American context. Some refresh-ing ways of understanding prayer are presented through the medium of science by Dennis Sardella. Helpful and comprehensive describe the treatment of vocation min-istry by Jeanne Schweickert, S.S.S.F., in her "Co-creators of History: United States Vocation Ministry." The same words apply equally well to the article by Kenneth Davis, O.F.M.Conv., "U.S. Hispanic Catho-lics: Trends and Recent Works." May the Lenten and Easter season~ guide us all further into the pas-chal mystery which focuses our life with the Lord. David L. Fleming, S.J. A Personal Memoir: The Arrupe Years Roland J. Faley, T.O.R. Father Roland J. Faley lived in Rome as vicar general of the Third Order Regular of St. Francis, i 971 - 1977, and superior general 1977- i 983. In December 1990 he completed his term as executive director of the Conference of Major Superiors of Men (CMSM). His mailing address is St. Thomas More Friary; 650 Jackson St., N.E.; Washington, D.C. 20017. The time was the early seventies. Rome was still caught up in a spirit of postconciliar excitement. Pope Paul VI's inherent caution in the face of the untried was tempered by an unfettered spirit in the air which wanted to let things happen. The present writer was returning to Rome after an absence of more than a decade, having been elected to the general gov-ernment of his Franciscan Order. I had been a student in Rome at the time of John XXIII's election. Those had been heady days of great prom-ise, at that time more a hope than anything else. It was only after the council, years later, that the real struggle of aggiornamento could be felt. Pedro Arrupe was the general of the Jesuits. Vibrant and spirited are adjectives that hardly do him justice. He was also president of the Un-ion of Superiors General (USG), the organization made up of the heads of men's religious institutes in the Church: It was a job for which Ar-rupe was ideally suited although one always wondered how he found the time. It was often said that the first time he was elected to the office by his peers, it was because he was general of the Jesuits. His subsequent reelections (and there were at least four) were because he was Pedro Ar-rupe. The story says a great deal about the man, quite apart from his of-fice. It was not long after I became active in the USG that Arrupe asked me to serve on the Justice and Peace Commission and later named me 163 164 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 to be the press officer for the Union. It was in the latter capacity espe-cially that I came to know Arrupe the man. The Justice Agenda Arrupe steered the Society of Jesus through a very difficult period in its history. The thirty-first and thirty-second general congregations had set the concerns of the world's neediest at the center of the Society's mis-sion. A strong emphasis on social justice permeates the documents of these general congregations. The passage from documents to im-plementation was marked by an inevitable reaction, not all of it positive, within the Society itself. Arrupe was undaunted. The new direction reso-nated with his whole life as a missionary. The evil of the arms race was eminently clear to one who had survived the first use of the atomic bomb in Japan, 1945. For Arrupe this postconciliar direction of his institute was not a ques-tion of personal choice. It had been mandated by the Society's highest authority, a general congregation; for the general of the institute, im-plementation was simply not an option. In that spirit of obedience, he charted a new course which made strong demands on the whole Society of Jesus. On the level of general government alone it required personnel and resources not easily commandeered. He never wavered in the pur-suit of a course that for him bore the faces of countless deprived and suf-fering people. In responding to any issue, Arrupe's enthusiasm was infectious. He was the idea man, the animator, willing to leave details and implemen-tation to others. At times he seemed unrealistic, but he never left one un-inspired. The great picture was always there. An unforgettable moment occurred during the refugee crisis of the late seventies. The movement of peoples was felt in many parts of the world, with Rome affected by a large influx of people from Ethiopia. A visit to Arrupe from Robert McNamara, then president of the World Bank, proved to be a real catalyst in moving the refugee project forward. An urgent response was called for by the sheer volume of people arriv-ing in Rome after the revolution in Ethiopia. The greatest need was for housing and food. The Jesuits opened their own refugee office to address the problem internationally and in Rome. At the same time Arrupe gal-vanized the forces of men and women general superiors. Through the built-in network of the two Unions of Superiors General, housing was found for the Ethiopians throughout the city, especially in the genera-lates themselves. A hot meal was served each evening to hundreds of per-sons in the basement of the GesO, the main Jesuit church in the heart The Arrupe Years of the city. It was always interesting to meet religious leaders of interna-tional congregations ladling soup or serving pasta at the refugee center. Arrupe took an active interest in the work of the USG's Justice and Peace Commission. He urged its members to respond to known viola-tions of human rights anywhere on the world scene, to become involved in the Year of the Woman (1976), and to sensitize members of religious institutes on the role of justice in religious life, especially in the wake of the 1971 Synod of Bishops. His leadership in social justice was firm and steady, but never abrasive or confrontational. He had, for example, an unusual sensitivity for diplomatic concerns and was a strong believer in the power of persuasion. But his commitment to the thesis of justice as a constitutive element of the Gospel message was total. This was jus-tice in the service of faith, an idea integral to Arrupe's thinking. There was no divorcing faith and justice; it was, moreover, a justice rooted in love. For Arrupe, it was unthinkable to speak of a struggle for justice apart from a belief in that justice for all people willed by God himself. Christian Unity Ecumenism was still a fledgling enterprise on the Roman scene when Arrupe moved the USG toward a better understanding of men and women religious of the other churches. In the early seventies, Michael Fisher, provincial of the Anglican Franciscans from England, and Ar-rupe decided to initiate a permanent consultation on religio,us life among religious of the Catholic, Reformed, and Anglican communions. The con-sultation continues to meet on a biannual, basis and is now in its second decade of life. During those Roman years it became common to have non- Catholic religious present for the assemblies of the USG; on many lev-els, the participation was reciprocal. This was a new venture, largely un-tested, the success of which was by no means guaranteed. To a great ex-tent it was Arrupe's breadth of vision and the warmth of his personality that carried the day. There was an immediacy and directness about him that broke down resistance. In the ecumenical field, he was willing to leave the doctrinal differences to others; it was the faith that was shared which excited him. In the area of religious life, the understanding of the vows, community, and prayer differed little from one denomination to the other. I remember vividly the bonding that quickly developed among the participants of those early years. When discussion centered on the nu-merical difference in the size of the communities, it was often very amus-ing. It was fascinating to see Arrupe, whose religious institute numbered close to 35,000, engaged in intense conversation with an Anglican su- 166 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 perior of some forty religious. Numbers mattered little; it was the mean-ing of the life that counted. Conversation with the World Vatican II's Church in the Modern World fit perfectly with Arrupe's sense of church. While not unmindful of the dangers present in the meet-ing between faith and culture, he remained a strong proponent of incul-turation. A spirit of withdrawal or disengagement from the world, or even worse, a siege mentality, was alien to Arrupe. Nowhere was this more evident than in his dealing with the media. It was during these same Roman years that Donald Campion, S.J., had been named the Jesuit gen-eralate's chief communications officer. Arrupe had long been keenly aware of the necessity for a high-level spokesman and worked to make it possible. Campion was privy to discussion and decision-making at all levels and, therefore, in the best position to deal effectively with the me-dia. Such openness was a quantum leap forward from the spirit of reti-cence, even fear, which was so much a part of religious officialdom. The latter was a spirit well symbolized by the small sliding window at the por-ter's office of the Jesuit generalate and countless other Roman headquar-ters. It was a far cry from an "open door" policy. As press officer for the USG, I enjoyed the same latitude. I was en-couraged to be present for all meetings, even when the most sensitive issues were being discussed. I was free to share the views and activities of the Union with both the secular and religious press. If discretion was called for, I was expected to exercise it, but the prevailing climate was one-of as much openness as possible. This was Arrupe's style, and it proved right more often than not. By the same token, he expected a sense of responsibility from a well-informed media. He was both angered and offended by unfounded specu-lation or an inordinate interest in the sensational or controversial. This was very evident at the time of the 32nd General Congregation, at which he presided. What seemed like a concerted effort to magnify conflicts between the Jesuits and the Vatican caused him no small measure of pain. And yet it never soured him or changed his basically positive out-look. For him the best way to deal with such a situation was through con-tinued efforts at supplying accurate and intelligible information. It was a Church in progress, moving through history, aided and abet-ted by the world around it, that fashioned Arrupe's thinking. If the mes-sage of the Church were to be heard, it would only be through outreach and dialogue. In the important position which he held, he lent the full weight of his office to obtain that goal. The Arrupe Years / 167 The Man of God It is hard to speak of a person's spirituality. In its intensely personal character it remains ultimately untouchable. And yet it becomes trans-parent in a person's life. In having a certain closeness to Arrupe and lis-tening to the views of others who were his peers, I noted certain quali-ties that mirrored a remarkable spirituality. He comes to mind im-mediately as a man of hope and faith-filled action. It is small wonder that he had such close personal ties with Cardinal Edward Pironio, the Argentinian head of the Vatican Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes. There were any number of reasons why relations between the Jesuits and the Vatican department responsible for religious life might well have been strained at that time. But Pironio's sense of hope and his very open and warm personality matched Arrupe's. They became close personal friends. Hindsight has led many people to comment favorably on Rome in the seventies. Religious life was being fashioned by an interesting trio. There were the challenges to religious given by Paul VI, coupled with the positive leadership bf Pironio and Arrupe. It was an exciting decade; for some of us, unforgettable. Arrupe's spirituality was marked by a deep sense of history and tra-dition. He was part of a Church and a religious institute whose patrimony truly humbled him. The picture of Arrupe as a man wed only to the pre-sent and largely indifferent to the values of the past is caricature at best. He knew that new wine required new skins and articulated that vision well. But he linked that vision with a real sense of the importance of con-tinuity. Some examples come quickly to mind. He had a profound es-teem for the insights of his institute's founder, St. Ignatius Loyola. While some argued that many of those insights were time-bound and no longer valid, Arrupe would be the last to be convinced. He said repeatedly that the longer he lived the more he appreciated the spiritual genius of his foun-der. In those years there was considerable discussion about the need for greater democracy in religious life. The question of the appropriateness of electing superiors, rather than appointing them as was the custom in many religious congregations, was very much to the fore. Arrupe re-mained throughout a strong proponent of the appointment method, fixed so strongly in Jesuit tradition. He was never persuaded that democracy produces the best leadership, and many of those who belonged to orders or congregations of a more democratic bent could recognize a certain va-lidity in his position. 161~ / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 His understanding of the vow of obedience was not rigidly tradi-tional; his thinking had been enhanced by contemporary theological in-sight into the Gospel sense of the vow. And yet he was deeply imbued with appreciation for the ascetical value inherent in accepting the deci-sions of those placed in authority. A case in point. When Arrupe com-municated to Robert Drinan, S.J., the decision that the latter would have to relinquish his seatin the U.S. House of Representatives, it was a very difficult moment in the life of both men. But it made a lasting impres-sion on Arrupe. The priority that Drinan gave to his Jesuit calling in ac-cepting that decision was, in Arrupe's mind, as important for the Soci-ety and the Church as anything Drinan might have otherwise accom-plished. It was an example to which he would repeatedly return. In retrospect, however, one would have to say that it was the man's openness that remains so vivid to the present day. He was never threat-ened by new ideas, even if he found them ultimately unacceptable. He could see the value in some elements of a Marxist social analysis, even though he was against its use. He could espouse~the Jesuits' new social ministries and still be a strong believer in the traditional ministry of edu-cation. He was a champion of legitimate pluralism, almost by instinct. While mindful of the importance of magisterial teaching, he wanted theo-logians to have as much freedom as possible in the pursuit of their task. It was his deep-rooted faith that lent him serenity in facing [he contem-porary scene. Not intimidated by the risk of possible failure, he realized that all was ultimately in God's hands. And then there were the trials, known best by those who worked with him closely. A number of those he shared with me. In his later years, the media was asking hard questions. Was Arrupe going to resign? Was he under pressure from the Vatican to do so? Was a dissatisfied segment of the Jesuits pressing for his resignation? Was his relationship with Paul VI as strained as rumored? Were there conflicts with John Paul II? Arrupe was always candid. He respected the media and realized that there was much to be gained through cooperation. But he was disturbed by attempts to exacerbate situations and exaggerate differences. There were certainly very difficult issues which he faced in the latter years of his term of office. He was fully aware that there was a conservative seg-ment of the Society which opposed him. In addition, during the thirty-second General Congregation, his was the task of interpreting the mind of that worldwide assembly to the pope, and vice versa. It was a sensi-tive and often painful task. That he did it so well is a tribute to his con-ciliatory gifts. But he was beset by rumors, which, like a room full of The Arrupe Years / 169 gnats, gave him no peace. That there were differences between the gen-eral congregation and the pope in certain areas, he never denied. Yet his personal relationship with Paul VI was never the question. He was sym-pathetic to the concerns of the pope and realized the weight of his cross. Moreover, he hailed the pope's social teaching as a landmark in the Church's life. But the perception of a wall of conflict between the "black" and "white" pope persisted, even though it was inaccurate. Arrupe was the first to admit that the sentiment among the Jesuits for the direction .taken after the thirty-second Congregation was not unani-mous. He was acutely aware of a vocal conservative opposition. But he saw the implementation of the general congregation's decisions as an obe-dience and there was no turning back. He always stressed the strong sup-port that came from so many quarters, the enthusiasm which the con-gregation's decisions had generated, especially among the young, and the fact that the Holy See had given its approval. But the fact is that the positive is just not that newsworthy, and so he would be inevitably ques-tioned about the "dark side" of any given situation. This always caused a certain measure of dismay, but it was followed by a remarkable resil-ience. In the wake of any setback, there was always his eventual phone call with a new idea or project. Early in the summer of 1981, Arrupe, his trusted vicar and confi-dant Vincent O'Keefe, and I talked at length about a possible article on the burning question of Arrupe's resignation. There was extensive specu-lation in the press, and we were discussing the best way to deal with it. However, it was more than a public question; it was a matter internal to the Jesuits at a time in which any public communication would have been inappropriate. Arrupe looked upon his eventual resignation in a very posi-tive light, as setting an important precedent for the future of the Soci-ety. His thinking was centered on the good of the religious institute to which his own interests were completely subservient. We decided to do nothing at that time. But that evening he assured me that once he was no longer in office and had the freedom to speak more openly, he would do an extensive interview with me and answer the questions that I felt should be addressed. That proved to be our last conversation. Upon his return from a trip to the Philippines some weeks later, he suffered the stroke from which he never recovered. The rest is history. I subsequently left Rome upon completion of my term of office. My occasional return visits were always marked by a brief visit with the man who had affected my life so deeply. Few words were exchanged. It was 170 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 usually a prayer and a blessing; he would then kiss my hand before I left. His sufferings proved to be one of the most powerful messages of his life. As one of his confreres put it: "He led us in life and has offered himself for us in death." His immolation was total. It has been an un-usual life. To have been touched by it is a rare gift. Father Pedro Arrupe was superior general of the Jesuits, 1965-198J~. He died on Tuesday, February 5, 1991, in Rome. Beyond the Liberal Model: Quo Vadis? Elizabeth McDonough, O.P. Sister Elizabeth McDonough, O.P., J.C.D,, Canonical Counsel Editor of REVIEW FOR RELIGtOUS and author of Religious in the 1983 Code, writes and consults extensively about consecrated life. She is a canonical consultant and tribunal judge for the Arch-diocese of Washington, where she may be contacted at P.O. Box 29260; Washing-ton, D.C. 20017. For background information on this article, see endnote i. ]t is no secret that active religious life for women in America has experi-enced progressive decline in the quarter century since Vatican II. Evi-dence of the decline is clear and overwhelming, and its effects are felt and observed in the entire Church. When one looks for causes, one real-izes that distinguishing them from the effects is both complicated and deli-cate. Nevertheless, from my experience as a woman religious during the last quarter century and as a canonical consultant for numerous women's communities over the last decade, I have come to the conclusion that many religious have not recognized or have not acknowledged some clear causes and effects of the current decline for what they really are. Effects of progressive decline are there to be seen in the current po-larization within and among women's communities along conservative and liberal ideological lines. The decline is also evident in most com-munities in their relative inability to attract or to keep vocations, as well as in their related inability to maintain significant institutional commit-ments. It is manifest in the near invisibility of women religious in con-temporary apostolic works, as well as in the frequent reluctance of clergy and laity alike to work with women religious in various apostolates. Pro-gressive decline is experienced by religious themselves as the uninten-tionally created and uncomfortably experienced loss of identity follow- 171 Review for Religious, March-April 1991 ing early and rapid postconciliar abandonment of traditional symbols and services, customs and norms. And, to those who are not religious, its ef-fects are all-too-obvious in the polarized, apparently directionless, plu-ralistic potpourri of ministries and attire, lifestyles and mindsets among women religious today. The progressive decline stems in part from the pervasive sociology of liberal individualism in America and in part from the cultural preva-lence of a psychology of selfism. But causes of the decline are also evi-dent in the predominantly social-justice agenda that has been adopted by most women's institutes, as well as in the revisionist versions of vowed life and in the generally antiauthority and often feminist stances currently espoused by not a few active women religious. Again, a major cause of decline can be traced to the reality that, in seeking their roots after the council, many women's institutes dating their foundations to frontier America discovered--but probably did not admit--that they actually had no genuine, unique charism to renew and adapt. The decline can also be traced to the systematic and progressive de-construction or deliberate abandonment of fundamental juridic structures and roles during the postconciliar constitutional revision processes. In most women's institutes, general chapters have now abandoned legisla-tion in favor of direction-setting, with their goals programmed by pre-chapter steering committees and subsequently adopted through member-ship participation in consensus formation that is shaped by outside facil-itators. In most women's institutes, lower-level superiors are now either nonexistent or nonfunctional, while major superiors have abandoned gov-ernment in favor of business management and have surrounded them-selves with middle-level, appointed, administrative personnel whose num-bers have steadily increased over the years in bureaucratic disproportion to the continuing decrease in membership. Functionally, the net effect of juridic deconstruction has been the crea-tion of business-management-style bureaucracies which filter informa-tion upward and decisions downward, from and to members of women's institutes, primarily by means of bulletins, newsletters, special-interest mailings, and occasional phone calls or visits. As a result individual re-ligious deal almost exclusively with middle-level personnel over a long period of time and even in personal and sensitive matters. Many would prefer to describe this reality quite differently by saying that communi-cation (not mere information) is facilitated inward and outward (not up and down) between the empowered membership and the visionary lead-ership in the concentric circles of participative government that have re- Beyond the Liberal Model / 173 placed the hierarchic pyramid of authority. Whatever the terminology, the following experiences are common: (1) Individual members or groups of members can seldom effect change in policies and agendas that are programmed and prepackaged at upper (or inner) levels of the struc-ture; (2) religious are both structurally and functionally more removed from their elected, responsible superiors than previously; and (3) the right of individual religious to personal privacy is, at times, not ade-quately protected. Most women religious would admit that, in the quarter century since Vatican II, the rather short-lived euphoria of the "nun in the world" has been replaced by a long-suffering, quiet frustration at the lurking possi-bility of permanent extinction. While increased relevancy and effective-ness were focal points for altering lifestyles and practices during renewal, many wonder now if women religious in America have ever been more irrelevant and less effective. To be frank, most clergy and laity and male religious have been thinking for quite some time that religious life for women in America is "going nowhere fast," even if few have verbal-ized this publicly. More recently, at least some--if not many--women religious have cautiously begun to acknowledge the same apparent real-ity to themselves and others. A haunting, unresolved question about the entire experience of re-newal is: How did all this ever happen to us? In seeking answers, con-servatives seem tempted to respond: "Surely an enemy has done it!" In kind, liberals seem inclined to say: "I am making all things new!" From the perspective of experience, my response to the question looks to what might be a deeper problem, namely: "All this did not just happen, We did it to ourselves." Indeed, I would suggest that, on the part of women religious, major factors contributing to the current decline have been a certain lack of knowledge of both theology and history, as well as a cer-tain lack of maturity in responding to newly discovered postconciliar re-alities. And, from current experience, I would suggest that an apparent lack of humility in admitting previous mistakes and an apparent lack of honesty regarding present reality or future prospects are probably has-tening the permanent demise of many active institutes of women reli-gious in this country. Lack of Vocations An obvious sign of the progressive decline of women's institutes is the staggering decrease in their membership since Vatican II. In 1965 there were slightly more than 180,000 members in active communities in America, but by 1990 that number had fallen to slightly more than 174 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 100,000-~a decrease of nearly 45%. Simultaneously, since few women have entered while many have been departing at a slow but steady pace, the median age in women's institutes has risen rapidly and is now com-monly sixty-five or higher. Marie Augusta Neal, in her recent book From Nuns to Sisters, sug-gests that the "radical risks" involved in the Church's new mission to the poor may be the prime factor limiting the response of women to a call to religious life. She thus inadvertently trivializes that call--which, on practical and theoretical as well as human and theological levels, has its appeal within risk or without any particular concern about risk. Neal does not seem to recognize that there is---~r ought to be--a substantive difference between a vocation and a career. And, if experience tells us anything in the matter, it tells us that--with rare exception--the single, most compelling human reason why anyone responds positively to a re-ligious vocation is her (or his) direct, personal awareness of religious who are happy together doing something that they perceive as worth-while and who are clearly motivated by and committed to the love of Je-sus Christ. Currently, many not-yet-retired women religious have become increas-ingly absent or invisible in apostolic activities of the local Church. In other words, for the most part they simply are no longer seen. Moreover, many no longer live in community, even when they live in geographic proximity, sometimes even when they exercise the same ministry or work in the same place. In other words, they are no longer seen together except possibly at work. Again, perhaps too few women religious are to-day perceived as being genuinely happy, and perhaps even fewer as be-ing happy together. Further, the current wide diversification of minis-tries seems sometimes to have led to trivial apostolates ~hile simultane-ously rendering institutional apostolic, witness unsustainable. And, though many may reject the suggestion, perhaps love of Jesus Christ is simply not perceived as the underlying or determining factor in the life of many women religious in America. In short, perhaps because the posi-tive image that women religious tend to have of themselves bears little resemblance to the not-so-positive image that others have of them, it may be unrealistic--if not grandiose--to expect vocations to increase in the near or distant future. Pluralism and Polarization An initial cause and increasing consequence of decline in religious life for women is the currently a~knowledged division into conservative and liberal categories both within and among most congregations. Beyond the Liberal Model / 175 In general, conservative-model institutes tend to favor external authorities, institutional endeavors, traditional theologies, and hierarchi-cal structures; liberal-model institutes generally favor inner freedom, in-dividual endeavors, postconciliar theologies, and collaborative struc-tures. Liberal institutes are inclined to accuse conservative ones of at-tracting emotionally immature candidates, while conservative institutes are inclined to accuse liberals of having nothing that attracts. Conservative religious are often summarily categorized as oppressed, unrenewed, and psychologically dependent; liberal religious are just as often summarily categorized as progressive, feminist, and pseudosophis-ticated. Conservatives seem to read history and Scripture in so selective and so polemical a fashion as to render them an inadequate basis for or-dinary discourse. Conversely, liberals seem to read history and Scripture in so simplistic and so revisionist a fashion as to render them insignifi-cant. From my experience, liberals and conservatives alike seem to have worked very diligently at destroying whatever common symbols they had, so that now they possess no common language for constructive com-munication. Each side seems to have been mutually successful in trans-forming both the concept of God and the experience of worship into sources of division. And neither side seems able to lay untainted claim to any "moral high ground," any bridgehead that addresses the ever wid-ening chasm between them. Currently the majority of women's institutes in America express or espouse a liberal model of religious life. However, it is becoming more and more evident that many religious themselves do not ascribe to the tenets or direction of that model, while many religious also have at least some (and sometimes serious) concerns about its functioning and future. As conservatives attempt to build a future by returning to the past and liberals attempt to build a future by rejecting the past, the categories are becoming increasingly distant and distinct. Most religious realize that any previous potential "middle ground" is fast disappearing, thus leav-ing little hope for future cooperation or reconciliation in or among insti-tutes. Mary Jo Leddy in her recent book, Reweaving Religious Life, ac-knowledges that the current liberal model of religious life is not adequate for facilitating and sustaining genuine adaptation and renewal, even though she has previously been both a proponent and facilitator of that model. Leddy suggests that the liberal model of religious life has become "unraveled" and that it should be replaced by a choice for "creative 176 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 disintegration" in favor of even more radical pluralism. She suggests, further, that liberal-model institutes might take as an example of her "reweaving" thesis Teresa of Avila's reform of Carmelite monastic life in the sixteenth century. But Leddy seems not to recognize that her sug-gestion for the future is humanly problematic and that her analogy from the past is historically inaccurate. As regards "creative disintegration" for a more radical pluralism, the current experience of most American women religious is that the de-gree of pluralism already present in their institutes is straining the limits of not just the weave but also the inner fiber of religious life itself, indi-vidually and collectively. In short, Leddy seems unaware that going be-yond present degrees of pluralism in ministries and lifestyles will most likely be more destructive than creative, both in the beginning and in the end. Regarding Teresian reform of Carmelite life, I.eddy does not recog-nize that Teresa's version of "reweaving" was actually a return to ba-sic structures and religious observance from an "unraveling" that oc-curred precisely because fundamental elements of the original charism had been abandoned or abused. In short, she seems oblivious to this his-torical fact: that Teresa accomplished the genuine renewal of Carmelite religious life not through programmed disintegration but rather through a concerted effort by all to embrace its fundamental structures and heri-tage in order to live them and preserve them in a pristine manner. Deconstruction of Structures and Elimination of Distinctions The current deconstructed functioning of general chapters as parti-cipative consensus-formation assemblies in most women's institutes has engendered both a feeling of members' being "empowered" for gov-ernance and a strong sense of "ownership" of chapter decisions. On the other hand, the new style of general chapters also tends to lessen critical assessment of options and to avoid substantive decisions that distinguish delegates from participants. Simultaneously, such chapters commonly en-act global, carefully crafted, blandly diluted statements whose content can hardly be opposed in theory and can scarcely be assessed in implemen-tation. Currently some women's institutes have so little sense of their own identity and of the role of chapters that they involve nonmembers extensively in chapter proceedings, and some have even suggested that nonmembers may be elected to governance roles. The distinction between major superiors and councils, as well as dif-ferentiation of their roles, has also undergone postconciliar deconstruc-tion. With the advent of collaborative decision-making, major superiors Beyond the Liberal Model / 177 and councils are commonly referred to as leadership teams: their mem-bers share equally the governance/management of the religious institute and are functionally distinguished, if at all, only at the infrequent mo-ments of final decision.,required by law. In relation to actual decision-making, in most institutes there has been a concomitant radical limita-tion or complete elimination of instances in which a supreme moderator or major superior can act without the consent of the council. Most of these alterations seem related to questioning the possession of personal authority by superiors, combined with an all too real (and often all too painful) remembrance of abuse of authority by superiors in the past. The deconstruction of juridic structures and the blurring of gov-ernmental functions apparently meet a need to limit the authority of su-periors through "leadership" language and apparently also reinforce the new participative consensus-niodel chapters in a stance of visibly and ver-bally rejecting whatever has been perceived as hierarchic or patriarchal. Overall, however, the new bureaucratic, business-management model of governance operated by middle-level appointees and committees seems to have produced no overwhelmingly positive verifiable results other than the fact that many members feel very good about it. In other words, it does appear that most people like the feeling of having a part in run-ning the business even if business is not getting any better. Obedience and Mission Closely related to juridic deconstruction and elimination of distinc-tions are postconciliar views espousing dialogical obedience and justice-oriented missions. The seed for a dialogical understanding of obedience was firmly planted by the affirmations of Perfectae Caritatis 14 that superiors should foster an active and responsible obedience in addition to listen-ing to and promoting cooperation among the members of the institute. But after twenty-five years that seed has produced, in many religious in-stitutes of women, a strong undergrowth of resistance to any exercise of personal authority by any superiors. As a result, some prevalent revision-ist versions of vowed obedience consider it to be so personal and dialo-gical that it apparently can never involve a decision made by someone else which must be obeyed. In this framework, attributing final decision-making power to a superior is simply rejected as representing an archaic, unjust sacralization of hierarchic notions about authority, commitment, and obligations, all of which are now considered as negotiable. Action on behalf of justice and participation in the transformation of the world were affirmed by the 1971 Synod of Bishops as "constitutive 171~ / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 dimension[s] of preaching the Gospel" and "of the Church's mission for redemption of the human race and its liberation from every oppres-sive situation." And these affirmations quickly became a mandate for religious to work with new or renewed vigor in justice-and-peace endeav-ors throughout the world. However, many religious who recognize action on behalf of justice as a constitutive element of the Gospel appear to have fallen into the er-ror of thinking that action on behalf of justice is also exhaustive of it. There is ample indication that some religious erroneously assess the Church's mission as only or primarily one of unbridled activity in the marketplaces of contemporary society. They frequently quote as a source the document Religious and Human Promotion, but one seldom hears any mention of the document on The Contemplative Dimension of Re-ligious Life. In addition, a selective reading of conciliar texts and post-conciliar documents seems to have created for some religious an urgent mandate for political action and systemic change to the exclusion or ne-glect of any other manner of transforming the world or of preaching the Gospel. In connection with contemporary views of authority and obedi-ence, the mandate for systemic change of oppressive structures seems to be directed increasingly to the internal structures of the Church and of one's own religious institute rather than to the wider world. The social-justice orientation in the revised constitutions of most in-stitutes is primarily the result of an ongoing series of sociological sur-veys initiated in 1965 by the Leadership Conference of Women Relig-ious to provide an information base for resources on renewal. The sur-veys were formulated, distributed, interpreted, and implemented by Marie Augusta Neal, who has written numerous articles and books in the last two decades in order to explain, expound, expand, and defend her work. In her writings Neal admits that the entire purpose of the research surveys had a social-justice orientation. She also acknowledges that con-troversy over the surveys contributed directly to splintering of the (then) Conference of Major Superiors of Women in the early 1970s. And she herself states that the pre- and post-Vatic~in II belief scale contained in the "Sisters' Survey" involving 139,000 women religious in the mid- 1960s "became the most controversial and most discriminating variable, which accounted for the pace and direction of changes in structures of the religious congregations involved in the study."2 Yet Neal has con-sistently defended the soundness of her survey instrument as well as the accuracy of her interpretations, and has increasingly extended her find- Beyond the Liberal Model / 17'9 ings beyond the realm of sociology. Critics of Neal's work point to survey questions formulated in quali-tative language, to information reported in questionable categories, and to Neal's apparently subjective interpretations expressed in her follow-up. memos as being especially problematic. The surveys engendered even more controversy as findings originally proposed as an information base on resources for renewal began to function instead as LCWR's single, central source for pursuing social-justice agendas, for questioning eccle-siastical authority, and for picking up the the pace of renewal. Indeed, the quarter-century survey project that coincided with the postconciliar constitutional revision in women's institutes may arguably be the single most significant factor that can account for the systematic and progres-sive deconstruction evident among so many institutes of women religious today. Abandonment of Common Symbols and Practices Regardless of whether one recognizes or acknowledges an underly-ing internal juridic deconstruction in religious institutes of women, the visible, gradual, and progressive alteration of attire for women religious since Vatican II cannot be denied. The transition in habits has been a pain-ful and emotionally charged issue and is a prime example of the whole-sale abandonment of symbols and symbol systems by women religious since the council. No one is at liberty to argue about whether or not the external identity symbol of the habit has been fundamentally abandoned by numerous women religious, and most agree that whatever has hap-pened is irreversible. Moreover, the "habit issue" represents a nexus of sociological, psychological, behavioral, historical, and theological fac-tors that relate directly to the progressive decline of religious life in Amer-ica. Transformation in the attire of women religious from outdated and unhealthy medieval costumes, to makeshift modified habits, to bought and borrowed secular clothes, to contemporary business suits with com-munity logos, to the stylish garb of modern professionals is reflected in and among women's institutes today. The visible choice of attire, though not completely indicative ofa conservative or liberal model as such, is a somewhat reliable sign of the institute's (and person's) location and di-rection on the spectrum of post-Vatican II transition. The attire worn by the major superior and council of an institute tends to indicate both whether attire choices are possible within the institute and what the most progressive of possible choices might be. These indications, along with when the attire choices became operative, rather accurately reflect 1~10 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 whether the institute operates primarily from a liberal or conservative model (or somewhere in between) and tend to show a transition towards the liberal model. Be that as it may, my reason for discussing the choice of attire is that it is never the only issue being addressed. The attire issue also places in sharp relief a functional distinction between institutes of men and of women. That is, for members of nonmonastic institutes of men, the habit--if they had one--was traditionally a significant form of clothing occasionally donned for community and liturgical exercises or for pro-fessional and pastoral services. In .contrast, for all institutes of women-- with rare exception--the habit was traditionally their primary identifi-cation symbol and was also often the only clothes they had to wear. Ad-ditionally, the habit issue highlights a significant difference in response to legal norms on the part of men and of women, namely: The 1917 code required that habits be worn by all members of all institutes at all times, both inside and outside the religious house; women consistently did what the law said, while men rather consistently did not. Thus, ~the almost vis-ceral reaction (of some) to the matter of the habit should not be surpris-ing. More fundamentally, however, numerous other unifying and mean-ingful symbols and practices disappeared along with the habit in religious institutes of women after Vatican II. Common meals and lodging, com-mon prayers and songs, common recreation and study, as well as com-mon moments of joy and suffering, were generally minimized, mildly disdained, or summarily abandoned in a veritable onslaught of Ameri-can, postconciliar, egalitarian, pluralistic individualism and activism. Some would suggest that in this process women religious have become less oppressed, more mature and free for service. Many others would sug-gest, in contrast, that the primary result of abandoning symbol systems and common practices has been a pervasive and overwhelming experi-ence of inner emptiness and outer loneliness made more acute by recog-nition that there simply is no longer any "common glue" to hold insti-tutes of women religious together at simple, fundamental, indispensable levels of human relationship. Transformations in Community Life and Ministry Additional consequences Of postconciliar deconstruction in women's institutes concern: (1) how members live together and relate to one an-other, or--in other words--the change in what was formerly referred to as common life or community; and (2) how members happen to arrive in a particular place doing a particular job, or--in other words--the Beyond the Liberal Model / 1~11 change in what was formerly referred to as receiving an assignment or being missioned. Without detailing here the canonical requirements for common life and its broad and strict interpretation, it was obviously common prac-tice in.the past for religious to live with other members of their commu-nity in the same residence with at least relatively equal access to food, clothing, shelter, and furnishings. Exceptions to common life were al-ways possible and sometimes actual but generally remained just that: ex-ceptions. Since the council, however, more religious now live "outside a house" of the institute for extended periods of time and for a variety of reasons, including apostolate, health, and study. Moreover, it is cur-rently common for a woman religious to live outside a house of her in-stitute either (1) because she cannot find a house in which she is collec-tively "accepted" by sisters already in the house according to their es-tablished expectations of community, or (2) because the sister herself can-not find a house in which she feels she can live comfortably and con-structively according to her already established expectations. Since Vatican II, members of religious institutes have been forced to deal regularly with high degrees of constant uncertainty, and simulta-neously they have had great demands for intense interpersonal relating placed on them. Religious institutes and individual women religious have devoted varying amounts of time, energy, and resources to bemoaning or extolling postconciliar relational developments and demands. And at present many institutes and their members are so caught up in personal relational issues and self-help programs as to convey the impression that, if only every sister would study her Myers-Briggs profile and identify the consequences of her Enneagram number and join the appropriate recov-ery or codependency program, then community life would irreversibly begin to get out of the present morass of personal malaise and interper-sonal dysfunctionality. Meanwhile, however, most members of liberal-model institutes no longer live in community, but merely relate to it functionally. It is usu-ally easier for major superiors to allow members to live outside a house of the institute than to deal constructively with problems in houses of the institute. Those members who continue to live in community seem, in most institutes, to have circumstantially or preferentially sorted them-selves into relatively permanent subgroups by age differentiation or work relations or ideological orientations or dyad/triad dependencies. And quite a few women religious depend regularly--and sometimes exten-sively--- on professional colleagues or family members for ongoing per- 1~12 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 sonal support and meaningful human interaction rather than on their re-ligious community. Related to changes in community living is the alteration since Vati-can II of how most women religious arrive in a particular place doing a particular job. A process of "open placement" now predominates, which usually means that the religious works with the institute's person-nel director or board in following previously established community cri-teria for seeking apostolic involvement or other gainful employment. Fre-quently in this system contracts are negotiated between the sister and the employer and are then submitted to the personnel director or board for review and informal approval. Eventually, finalized arrangements are rati-fied by the competent major superior, and the sister is missioned or as-signed to her new apostolate or job with, if possible, some form of rit-ual solemnization of the process. Some provision for housing is neces-sarily connected to the missioning, but living in community is not usu-ally a priority among the criteria for seeking employment, and so excep-tions to common life proliferate. The Sociology of Liberal Individualism Recently Robert Bellah and several other sociologists published a re-vealing analysis of the phenomenon and failure of liberal individualism in America, entitled Habits of the Heart. Among other things, this analy-sis suggests that American culture reflects a radically liberal society of psychologically sophisticated but morally impoverished individuals who demonstrate a "narcissism of similarity" by associating in "lifestyle enclaves." These enclaves are composed of the like-minded who share comparable desires for leisure, recreation, and consumer goods and who, by their self-chosen values, have been freed from traditional ethnic and religious boundaries while simultaneously justifying their own prefer-ences. Further, Bellah and his colleagues suggest that, in American so-ciety, people's felt need for personal fulfillment---ever elusive--has re-sulted in their substituting short-term "therapeutic relationships" be-tween "self-actualized" individuals for the genuine, creative relation-ship of love. This, in turn, has resulted in replacing obligation and com-mitment with a new "virtue": open and honest communication in which everything at all times is considered negotiable except the individual's self-chosen objectified values. The study suggests, further, that American society lacks the identity which should have or could have emerged from the ordered freedom of practical rituals and moral structures which it has abandoned. Moreover, it seems unable to return to the "constitutive narrative" of its tradition, Beyond the Liberal Model because that would be perceived as opting for once-jettisoned oppressive structures. Consequently, the lonely, self-actualized, rugged individuals of the late, great American Empire--still not comprehending what it is that might assuage their longings--have taken collective refuge in a cor-porate bureaucracy of professional managers, therapists, and other ex-perts whose task it is to foster administrative centralization, to facilitate reciprocal tolerance, and to "empower" all citizens for institutional par-ticipation and creative innovation. The problem is, however, according to Bellah and his colleagues: It simply has not worked, and the seriously ill "social ecology" of American culture is very much in danger of per-manent demise. There are striking similarities between this sociological analysis of American culture and the current liberal model of active religious life for women. Tradition has been abandoned, and the past is perceived as op-pressive. Institutes have become business corporations, and governance has become collaborative administration. Structures have become parti-cipative, and superiors are now primarily managers. Formation person-nel and spiritual directors now function primarily as therapists. Facilita-tors are experts for achieving consensus formation, as well as catalysts for creative innovation. All members are becoming empowered for de-cision- making, although not many members claim responsibility for any particular decision. Obedience is increasingly negotiable, and personal fulfillment dominates most choices. Communities have become lifestyle enclaves composed of occasionally present, like-minded individuals. Eve-ryone is now somehow accountable, but few (if any) religious are called to accountability by anyone for anything. Communication is the cardi-nal virtue, and everyone is progressing towards greater self-actualization. The problem is, of course: It all simply does not work. American women religious today still seem not to have discovered what it is that might as-suage their longings, and the seriously ill social ecology of their lives is very much in danger of p~rmanent demise. The Psychology of Selfism Directly related to the sociological phenomena that seem to parallel the deconstruction of religious life is the psychological phenomenon that contemporary American culture, according to Bellah, is basically impov-erished by an insatiable preoccupation with self. In most cultures reli-gion is considered a primary source for character formation and for the development of social mores. However, in the psychology of selfism which seems to permeate American culture, the primary reality is the self that one's own unique choices have created. The isolated, self-created 1 ~14 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 individual then commits himself or herself to self-defined and self-defining decisions. In this ambiance, personality development and be-havior modification replace the character formation and the social mo-res that are ordinarily provided by traditional religion, because preex-isting principles for character or mores are perceived as either non-existent or unimportant. For selfism in America, the psychological myth of the intrinsically good Utopian self parallels and supports the social and political myths of the intrinsically perfect Utopian state, while the psychological ten-dency to self-indulgence both rationalizes and celebrates the consumer society. When the interior fiber for duty, patience, suffering, and self-sacrifice is absent or wanting in the individual, the psychology of selfism conveniently shifts a locus of responsibility for the vacuum or the defi-ciency to the failures and foibles of parents, siblings, associates, and cir-cumstances. Selfism also legitimizes and perpetuates the late-adolescent attitudes of routine rebellion, rejection of authority, and preoccupation with sex. In short, it appears to be a ready-made, perfect internal sup-port for the sociology of American liberal individualism. Obviously, in relation to religious life, the once-hidden issues of psy-chological development and emotional maturity have been a rather pub-lic part of the transition in institutes of women (and of men) since Vati-can II. It may be that women religious really were not emotionally well-prepared for so many drastic, rapid-fire changes in their lives and, fur-ther, that they have not handled them all that well in the long run. To be sure, the recent deluge of books, articles, programs, and apparent pana-ceas produced by religious and for religious on topics of maturity related to religious is overwhelming. Patently, the popularity of this genre among women religious is not indicative of merely occasional light read-ing for the already self-actualized and emotionally mature. Thus, it seems reasonable to suggest that American women religious might be suf-fering not only from the effects of American liberal individualism but also from some lack of maturity as a consequence of its underlying psy-chology of selfism. Absence of Charism Genuine charisms for consecrated lifeforms are windows on the Gos-pel that provide a vision So clear that founders and foundresses --and then their companions--seem compelled to "do likewise" and follow Jesus. Or, again, charisms might be described as good seeds growing in fertile ground in a particular time and place and having the capacity to Beyond the Liberal Model multiply and bear fruit and also to be transplanted successfully to other ages and other cultures. True charisms of religious life are founded on sound but supple structures, are surrounded by long-standing and forma-tive customs, are nourished by deep-rooted and healthy spirituality, are manifest in valuable and long-term ecclesial service, and are--most es-pecially-~ expressions of a meaningful and compelling way of following Jesus. Charisms are not constituted merely by being a particular-apos-tolic expression of a particular corporal or spiritual work of mercy, how-ever necessary and valuable such endeavors may be; nor can charisms be humanly built by "refounding" or personally manufactured by "reweaving." They are gifts received, embraced, and lived--with re-ceptive and responsive elements indispensable to their basic rea~].ty---or they are not true charisms at all. Unfortunately, when active institutes of women religious went in search of their roots in the mandated renewal subsequent to Vatican II, most were confronted with the absence of a genuine, unique charism. And most women's institutes apparently either could not or would not recognize that absence for what it really meant, namely: They actually had no sound structures, no formative customs, no deep-rooted spiritu-ality, no long-term ecclesial service, no meaningful and compelling way of life they could call their own. In short, they had no genuine spiritual patrimony or religious heritage to which they could return and from which they could move into the future. The absence of a genuine, unique charism in most women's:institutes explains in part why intercommunity living and common novitiates have been so readily initiated and so successful. One cannot imagine, for ex-ample, Jesuit men and Dominican men opting for total intercommunity living situations and sharing totally common novitiates as if there were no deep and visible, distinctly different elements in their charisms. Yet many women religious whose institutes claim unique charisms share com-munity living and novitiates on a regular basis and consider it a wonder-ful sign of progress in collaboration. Lack of charism in many :women's institutes also explains in part why they have been so readily eclectic in the process of spiritual renewal and why most supposedly pristine house-of- prayer movements have been so short-lived and superficial .3 Further, lack of charism explains in part why it has been so difficult for these in-stitutes to adapt and renew successfully in the postconciliar era. Indeed, the provinces of some men's institutes are actually more distinct in ex-pressions of their charism than are many independent institutes of women who attempted after the council to rewrite constitutions and fashion mis- 116 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 sion statements unique to them on the basis of their supposedly unique charisms. Though the fault for lack of charism was not theirs, the consequences for these institutes have been nearly fatal. Most--but not all--active in-stitutes of women religious founded in, or transferred to, this country in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries were either New World adapta-tions of ancient and medieval monastic communities, such as the Bene-dictines and the Dominicans, or groups of dedicated pioneer women re-sponding generously to the practical needs of an immigrant Church in frontier America. Some, such as the Ursulines and the Daughters of Char-ity, had never been allowed to embrace or live the authentic, original ex-pression of their charism, which is now recognized as the forerunner to the consecrated lifeform of secular institutes. All active women's insti-tutes in frontier America were forced by circumstance or mandate to adopt a semimonastic, conventual style of religious life whether or not this was appropriate to their current function or past experience. Struc-tures, as well as theology and spirituality and apostolate and customs, are integral to the authentic expression of a genuine, unique charism. Thus it is not surprising that progressive deconstruction in women's in-stitutes has been so rapid and so complete for those institutes which, when seeking their roots, found only a monastic heritage adapted to the structures of conventual religious life or found no heritage that ever re-ally fit into the structures of conventual religious life in the first place. Possibilities for the Future Suggestions have been made that, in order to survive, women reli-gious should respond more fully to the risks of opting for the poor, or expand their pluralistic polarization even further, or revitalize for the sake of mission, or manage systemic change more constructively, or com-bine judiciously with other institutes of similar heritage. But no degree of social-justice activity, no amount of pluralism, no programmed revitalization, no constructively managed change, and no combined mem-bership will supply for the absence of a charism, which simply cannot be summarily manufactured and without which no institute has any fu-ture. It is possible, however, that active institutes of women religious in America can consciously decide about their future in honest relationship to their past. Some may feel they have actually been successfully grafted into an ancient or medieval charism expressed in conventual form and may wish to continue that expression of religious life. Some may find Beyond the Liberal Model it more realistic to return to what was originally intended by the founder/ foundress even if that choice would place them today in a different ju-ridic category of consecrated lifeform, such as secular institutes. Others may find it more realistic for members to form totally different commu-nities in accord with the prevalent spectrum of conservative and tradi-tional ideologies among their membership. Still others may decide quite honestly that their time of existence and service in and through the Church is actually past and that their greatest present witness might be to go out of existence with dignity and grace. From my experience, those in positions of authority in many women's institutes either do not recognize or simply will not admit the above possibilities, just as they either do not recognize or will not admit that the present course of supposed renewal is toward eventual demise. And, from my experience, the members of most women's institutes either are unaware of what is actually happening or, being aware, sim-ply wish to stay the course because it appears or feels advantageous to them at the moment. In either case, the result is that members tend to choose for leadership only those persons who will perpetuate the status quo, which in turn continues the present direction of programmed decon-struction. Unfortunately, most women's institutes seem deaf to suggestions that current, supposedly great refounding trends are futile, not only because they are based primarily on product-oriented business-management mod-els, but also because there is--in most cases--actually nothing to re-found. Though most seem enthralled by distant visions of supposedly "new forms" of religious life, they seem not to see before their eyes the current practical drift of religious life in America to the practices and lifestyle of the already well-established category of secular institutes. Io fact, opting for secular-institute status might be a more honest way for some institutes to become what they were originally and are meant to be than is their present path of deconstruction under the ~uise of creating "new forms" of religious life. Finally, many women's institutes seem heartened by prospects of increased membership through mergers and un-ions as a recipe for survival. Although combining institutes may be a ju-dicious course of action in view of practical needs, those who look to this for survival should reread carefully the story of Gideon: There is no safety in numbers if you are not doing God's will in God's way; and if you are, numbers really do not matter very much at all. Although, from my experience, most active institutes of women re-ligious in America simply do not have the slightest idea where they are 1111~ / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 going or why, there are many members of many institutes who do want to go somewhere with meaning. While not wishing to return to the past, they also do not wish to abandon it, and they still hope for a future of renewed religious life somehow rooted in it. Unfortunately, current modes of participative consensus-model governance not only edit out such voices but also make it nearly impossible to know about or be in constructive contact with those who have similar desires. Perhaps, then, some hope for the future also can be found in more grassroots, intra- and inter-congregational communication by those who are both weary and wary of the present programmed deconstruction they experience. All that is really necessary for continuation in the present path of increased po-larization and progressive decline to the point of extinction is that enough women religious continue to say or do nothing about it. NOTES i The substantive content of this article is taken from a book chapter of the same ti-tle and is used with permission of the editors. See lus Sequitur Vitam: To Pier Huiz-ing in Recognition of a Life Dedicated to a Living Law in the Church, edited by James Provost and Knut Wall and scheduled for publicatiofl by Peeters of Leuven i.n February 1991. The book chapter is much longer, has a definitely canonical ori-entation, and contains numerous, lengthy, substantive footnotes. 2 See Marie Augusta Neal, From Nuns to Sisters: An Expanding Vocation (Mystic, Conn.:Twenty-Third'Publications, 1990), for her positions in general and pp. 126- 127, n. 9, for this quotation. More detailed comments on the survey are contained in the book chapter cited above, especially at footnotes 12 and 29-34. 3 See J.M.R. Tillard, "Vingt ans de grace?" in Vie Consacr~e 58 (1986): 323- 340. The S.P.E.A.K. Model: An Approach to Continuing Formation Mary Mortz, D.M.J. Sister Mary Mortz, D.M.J., serves as a provincial councilor for her province of the Daughters of Mary and Joseph. With her degree in rehabilitation and religious stud-ies, she teaches mentally and emotionally disturbed children. Her address is 419 East Lancaster Boulevard; Lancaster, California 93535. Continuing formation means that the work of God has begun, and we con-tinue to cooperate with his work in and through us. Many of our consti-tutions state that each of us as a perpetually professed religious is respon-sible for our own continuing formation, though we are accountable to com-munity leadership. We have workshop opportunities extended to us, but there still seems to be a void in terms of specific steps to take to know that we are really growing as much as the Lord is calling us to grow. Many articles written for us today in religious journals seem to re-flect a growing need for focus in this area of continuing formation. They address issues of the compulsions and codependency in our society and in our religious lives. These issues are influencing us spiritually, emo-tionally, relationally, physically, and in our ministry. Many of these ar-ticles conclude with the suggestion that the reader investigate the 12- step programs such as Alcoholics Anonymous. The S.P.E.A.K. model begins where these articles conclude, Many religious men and women are finding the 12-step journey to be a power-ful resource. This model comes from reflecting upon the experiences which many have shared with me--priests, religious men and women, and lay persons. It is a summary of what we have found to be helpful for us. It is offered as a resource tool for anyone looking for more spe-cific help in this deepening journey of spirituality and ministry. 189 190 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 Summary of the Model There are three parts which serve as the basis for the S.P.E.A.K. model. First, the 12 steps are used as concrete steps or tools for continu-ing growth. Second, it is holistic. It includes the aspects of our lives as people who are Spiritual, Physical, Emotional, Apostolic, and relational (Koinonia). Third, each person selects a formation companion. The reason for basing the model upon the 12 steps is that they have proved to be very effective for thousands of people as a tool for us to use to evaluate our level of trust in God, to examine our lives, to make changes when we see we need to do so, to maintain an abiding attitude of balance and prayer in our lives and in our ministry and relationships with others. As we look at these 12 steps taken as a group, it is very apparent that we are returning to all that has been best for us in our previous routines of the spiritual life: regular daily examen, confession and extraordinary confession, retreats, daily spiritual reading, prayer, community sharing of our growth with each other, and profound dedication to sharing the Good News with a troubled world. The reason for basing the model upon a holistic view is that it is very easy for us to allow one or two areas of life to receive our attention. The challenge of life is to live in such a wholesomely balanced way that we proclaim Jesus, his Spirit~-and his Father's love by being the wonder-fully created person we are called to be spiritually, physically, emotion-ally, relationally, and in our ministry. The reason for basing the model upon having a formation compan-ion is twofold. It is a privileged thing to have someone who loves us un-. conditionally, even when we let the other person really know us. This frees us to grow even more. Secondly, it helps us to become very, very honest with ourselves and with our God when we agree to share what is happening in our lives at a deep and personal level with at least one other human being. This facilitates an attitude of openness and honesty which is an essential prerequisite of continuing formation. The Twelve Steps It is important to remember that even though one of the areas of the S.P.E.A.K. model is the spiritual, all the areas of our life are permeated by the principles of the spiritual journey. We keep taking these steps over and over in all areas of life, and new insights become revealed to us. Per-haps it is no coincidence that there were 12 tribes, 12 apostles, and now the foundation of 12 steps! Sometimes it is said that a coincidence is a miracle when God chooses to be anonymous. The S.P.E.A.K. Model / "191 Orginally there were six steps as part of a spiritual movement called the Oxford movement, but those using these steps in A.A. realized they needed a little more guidance and expanded them to 12. The basic sense of these 12 steps can be divided into three groups. In steps 1-3 we come to a profound sense of what it means to really trust God. In steps 4-11, we clean our house, and continue to keep it clean. In step 12 we work to practice these principles in all our affairs, all as-pects of our lives. It can be a temptation for us to approach the steps rationally, to ana-lyze why they work. This is not the issue for those using the S.P.E.A.K. model. The issue is to walk these steps personally, humbly with heart, gut, and head. An analogy might be that we can read inspirational arti-cles about exercise and walking until the cows come home, but if we do not put one foot in front of the other and go walking, we cannot go very far or get in very good shape. Step One. We admitted we were powerless over life's conditions, that our lives had become unmanageable. (In the A.A. literature, this step reads, "We admitted we were powerless over alcohol--that our lives had become unmanageable." This is the only step that is changed in the S.P.E.A.K. model.) Even though other steps may seem to be more threatening in the be-ginning, it seems that the hardest step for us to take is step one. This is also the first be-attitude (Beatitude). The journey begins when we can finally be at a point in our lives where we are ready to surrender, to let go, to realize that there is something in our lives over which we have no control. Then we are ready to let God in to take over, to begin again in a new and deeper way this thing called his continuing formation. Our "something," our life condition, may be other people who are in our lives, some part of work, our relationships, our predominant com-pulsions, our health, our behavior, our self-perceptions, our resentments, fears, anxiety, our sin, our habits, our way of being "off the mark." There are many resources available to help us see our personal pow-erlessness. Some of these ways are: meditation using available schools of spirituality, or we might just sit, as in Zen guided ways, or use ap-proaches to centering prayer. We might pursue the insight into our par-ticular compulsions through the study of the Enneagram. We also might just listen to our own lives if we are having pain. Pain is a wonderful catalyst to growth! If we really want to take this step honestly, it is much easier if we share our "muddling through it" with another person. Whatever means Review for Religious, March-April 1991 we use, it is important to know that this S.P.E.A.K. model is not possi-ble until we take step one. Step Two. "Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity." Sanity means wholeness. It means balance. Once we find ourselves in real need of change, our challenge is to allow ourselves to "come to," to wake up as if from the slumber or self-delusion we were in. The only assent required at this step is to believe that we are not the center of our universe, that there is a power greater than ourselves, that we are loved, and that we can become powerfully renewed. Ephesians 4:22-24 is one of many texts which comes to mind at this step. You must give up your old way of life; you must put aside your old self, which gets corrupted by following illusory desires. Your mind must be renewed by a spiritual revolution so that you can put on the new self that has been created in God's way, in the goodness and holiness of truth. Step Three. "Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood him." This step leads us to accept God's power in our lives. In step two we may want the revolution to happen. We might believe it possible, but it is in step three that we make a specific decision to let go and to let God take over. Revolution means change, and that is what we give consent to in step three without controlling any part of it. When we speak of such trust, we are using our own words, our own sense of who, at this time, God is for me. We make a prayer of this step and share it with another hu-man being. These steps are not done in the dark, but we bring them to the light and speak them to another. Step Four. "Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of our-selves.". We all have instincts. Most fall into the areas of social instincts, secu-rity instincts, and sexual instincts. Again it seems no coincidence that our vows are in the areas of obedience, poverty, and chastity. In this step, we accept to look at our lives as the beginning of a lifetime prac-tice. We look in a searching way at fears, resentments, harms, and hurts we have done, and which have been done to us. We name the instincts which are threatened, and our responses to them. We come to see our not-so-good patterns, our character defects, and our gifts, our assets as well. We see how we have been growing, and how we have yet to grow. The word, "fearless" is very important~ If we find ourselves resist-ing this inventory, then there is nothing wrong with staying at steps one, The S.P.E.A.K. Model / 193 two, or three. When we have become tired of life's condition, when we can believe that we can change, when we have really taken step three, then step four will follow comfortably without fear. Step Five. "Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human be-ing the exact nature of our wrongs." In this step we invite another human being to be with us as we say out loud what we have learned in step four. There are many ways to do this, but as we come to name our patterns, our ways of responding, we gain insights, especially if the other person has taken this step, and truly loves us. To bring awareness before God is one thing, and it is beauti-ful. To bring awareness before God and another human being, to share it, to own it in the light is both beautiful and a blessing. This step helps us to stop isolating, to experience many profound les-sons in humility, to experience a whole new sense of kinship, of one-ness with others and with God. This kinship opens us to a connected-ness with whole new insights into the human condition, our place in the world, and a God consciousness which becomes a personal experience. Step Six. "Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character. ' ' After the insights are gained in step five, more action is required. We do not only gain insight on this spiritual journey, but we use the in-sights. We made a decision in step three to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood him; now in this step we real-ize that we are still very resistant people. We have worked hard to de-velop the defects we have. We wonder, "Who am I if I let go of them?" We even let ourselves chuckle at how we are as self-centered little chil-dren, and pray to get ready to let go of those defects of our character which we have learned about. Sometimes we say, "Of course I want them taken away," and this step is easy, but if that is not our experience at any given time, we accept to admit this is the step we are taking. Step Seven. "Humbly asked him tO remove our shortcomings." When we feel we are in charge, we try to use willpower, or positive imaging instead of taking this step. This step calls for us again to admit our powerlessness, our need for God. It is ego puncturing because we admit we cannot do this of ourselves. As St. Paul says. "I do the things I do not want to do." This step frees us from the trap of pride and fear. Little by little after we take this step, we find ourselves thinking differ-ently, feeling differently, r.esponding differently. People and situations around us change, if we have prayed our own seventh step prayer out loud with another human being. 194 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 Step Eight. "Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became will-ing to make amends to them all." In religious life many of us were trained to forgive., forgive. forgive. This is essential; however, the eighth step helps us to focus on the resentments, the fears, the harms, and the hurts of our lives by paying attention to our responses. We can forgive and fester externally or internally for a long, long time! As we shared our fifth step, we became aware of ways in which our responses might have "needed improvement," or perhaps we were out-and- out vindictive. This step is best taken with another person to help us be thorough, to help ourselves not to hide, to isolate, or to be too hard on ourselves. Again, if this becomes fearful, perhaps there is a need to look at how badly we want this growth, the quality of our surrender and trust, and the reality of our seventh step. But we can also remember we are only making a list in this step. Step Nine. "Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, ex-cept when to do so would injure them or others." This step is also best discerned with another person, both to keep us honest as well as to help us figure out the best way to go about this ac-tion. Sometimes a person has died. Sometimes the person has moved, or we moved away. A letter might be enough, or we might need to wait to see her or him again. Sometimes it is best to let it go, and our forma-tion companion can help us decide when this is really true. Regardless, the freedom which comes inside us as we become ready to take responsibility for the consequences of our behavior is very exhilarating. Step Ten. "Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it." In order for the spiritual revolution to continue, we need to remain ready. Step ten is really a daily, weekly, monthly, and annual review of steps two through nine. There are many ways and resources available to us to use in this step. One way is to allow our dreams to happen, to write them down, to "mull over" their meaning with our formation compan-ion. Another is to be faithful to writing in a notebook of some sort a mini-fourth step, a summary of the good and the not-so-good of the day, to share it, then to do steps six through nine with what we learn. The more we do this, the easier and more comfortable it becomes. Step Eleven. "Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our con-scious contact with God as we understood him, praying only for knowl-edge of his will for us and the power to carry that out." The S.P.E.A.K. Model I 195 As we do the preliminary steps and work this step, we find that every-thing else is also "falling into place." We work this step as humble, empty vessels who know our need for God. We accept to be still, to lis-ten, to receive. Just as we could use the many resources available to us in the Church to take step one, we can also draw upon these resources to help us deepen in step eleven. There are three centers out of which we operate--the gut, the head, and the heart. Our predominant sin is located in there somewhere, and so is our growth. Perhaps centering prayer, the prayer of nothingness, is our vehicle. Perhaps more head-centered meditation on Scripture and spiritual teach-ings is our vehicle. Perhaps contemplation of images and affective re-sponse to them serve as our vehicle. Perhaps being with nature, or litur-gical celebrations, or devotions become our vehicles. The important thing is that we be as we are called to be. We have learned in these steps to let go and let God. If we share how we feel with our formation com-panion, this step becomes a profound and nourishing experience. In this step an awakening happens which leads us to hunger after holi-ness (wholeness) in all areas of our life. Our emotions become balanced. Our bodies seek proper rest, work and play rhythms, food and drink. We hunger for a sharing of peace and reconciliation in our relationships and in the world. We find ourselves led deeply to the roots of our religious lives, to a sense of meaning of sacrament and church, of our community's charism, and we become ready to witness this new sense in our relation-ships and in our ministry. Step Twelve. "Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to others, and to practice these prin-ciples in all our affairs." We have received a free gift. We can work to keep it alive, but if we hold on to it exclusively, it becomes stagnant. That is the nature of the spiritual journey. As a result of these steps, we have known a spiri-tual awakening. We have known love, a God and Gospel consciousness at a personal level. The irony of this love is that we must let it go if we are to hold on to it. Anything we used to hold on to is constantly chal-lenged by the gift of our new God-relationship. We find ourselves driven to live right attitudes--to develop God attitudes, the be-attitudes, to do his Way in all of our life. Select a Formation Companion We have a long-standing precedent for having a spiritual compan- Review for Religious, March-April 1991 ion within the Church as well as within many of the Oriental religions. However, even though we have been encouraged to avail of spiritual direc-tors, many religious have not availed themselves of these opportunities. This was for a variety of reasons. Some wondered what there was to talk about. Some could not find someone who felt qualified. Some used a con-fessor, and kept the focus more sin-and problem-centered. Some used spiritual directors, but restricted the interactions to areas of the spiritual domain. Others have used a spiritual director as a formation companion without naming the person as such. This latter group knows the power and potential for having a formation companion. The qualification for being someone's companion is that we are also working these steps, and sharing honestly of ourselves with someone. No advanced degrees are required because it is humility found in a relationship with God that we seek. The formation companion could be male or female, priest, religious, or lay person. What is important for us is that our companion understand these steps, and be willing to walk with us as we journey them. The criterion we use to ask someone to serve as our formation com-panion is that we feel this person cares for us, has common sense,~,and is also working a "formation program." Our companion calls us to honesty and celebrates growth with us, but this person does not attempt to fill any need other than serving as the formation companion. As we grow, we may find ourselves broadening and using many others to share our journey. We may use physicians, psy-chologists, a spiritual support group, the people with whom we live, other friends, our superiors, our employers, a confessor. The Areas of the S.P.E.A.K. Model Spiritual The steps lead us completely in this area. As we grow in this spiri-tual revolution and in union through steps one through eleven, we de-velop insights that lead us to hunger for balance in the other areas. We find that as we deepen and grow in this area, if there has been careless-ness in the communal expression of our prayer, even this turns around. We soften. We find time where time was not to be found before. We hun-ger to be with each other in our religious expression as well as in the deeper leadings of the area of Koinonia. Physical The body is essential for us if we are to operate as feeling, relating The S.P.E.A.K. Model / 197 human beings. It is a vital source for information about our lives, and a key support for us to function in all areas. Our bodies can be scream-ing warnings to us if we will pay attention. For example, our bodies tell us if we are suppressing feelings or living relationships in ways that are dishonest to ourselves or to others. We can experience gastrointestinal problems, ulcers, high blood pressure, cancer, and back problems. If there is rigidity in the muscles, there is often rigidity in the emotions and spirit. The challenge of this area is to listen to the cues, to work the steps to learn what is happening, and to develop habits which are life-giving, respectful, and nurturing for the body as well as the other areas of our lives. If we listen to the input of others as well as observe our own lives, we may see that we are making body choices which are harmful to the other S.P.E.A.K. areas. For example, we might be choosing the use of substances such as nicotine, caffeine, alcohol, or sugar as substitutes for feeling, or to fill emotional, spiritual, or relational lack. In addition to life choices which affec( our continuing formation, there are those choices for fast food, for beef, for comfort and conven-ience which have implications for the rest of the world's famine and un-dernutrition. Part of the challenge of this area is the aspect of practicing the physi-cal and spiritual discipline of fasting to detoxify and rebalance the body, to reverse even degenerative illness, and to bring ourselves into a deeper harmony with others. Just as we need to keep working these steps in the other areas where physical inertia is seen, we have a cue that an imbalance is happening, and an opportunity to reflect upon the reason for this shutdown. Inertia is life denying. The body requires regular aerobic movement to increase the circulatory flow, the metabolic rate for heart, skeletal and muscular tone, for body conditioning, and to allow for oxygen to get to the brain. Emotional One of the promises of the awakening which we experience in step eleven is a sense that emotional balance and wholeness are happening. Before we experience this balance, however, we would have taken some serious steps to be ready for inner healing. These steps take time, and as we learn more about who we are, we can continue to share this with another, work with it, work these steps and deepen. Perhaps as we did our inventory, we saw patterns of overinflated or underinflated self-esteem, patterns of overe.ngagement in activity or serv-ice, perfectionism, depression, fear, resentments. Perhaps we saw that 198 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 we isolate from others, do not share our feelings. Perhaps we give our love and attention to pets, compare ourselves to others, blame others, feel jealous, judge people's motives, interpret others' motives to others, think rigidly either positively or negatively about others, isolate ourselves from others or hide our feelings or practice. Perhaps we use food or drink, work, sex to hide from feelings. The task of these steps is to bring the darkness to light, that the dark-ness may lose its power over us. In the S.P.E.A.K. model, we practice naming our feelings, reflecting upon what happens to trigger them, look-ing at our instincts which we perceive as being threatened and at our re-sponses to these threats. As we practice this and work steps two through nine, we find ourselves growing much stronger, more serene, more pow-erful, and more humble. Apostolic Today's society, the "world" of St. John's gospel, rewards us if we have power. We are encouraged to become specialists. This applies to the areas of medicine, psychology, sbcial work, education, spiritual direction, and pastoral ministry. It is easy for us to be sensitive to our congregational financial pressures, to time demands, and to be seduced by this world. For those walking the Gospel path, working the 12 steps, the value of our apostolic mission is in living out our spiritual awakening and ex-perience. This is why the spiritual, emotional, and koinonia areas are so important as prerequisites to ministry. Our mission is to be the charism of our congregations in deep solidarity with the anguish which is under-neath all the glitter of power and success. If we are not yet comfortable with our own anguish, and with sharing it with others, we cannot con-vey this experience to others. As Nouwen says, our leadership, our value lies in that we dare to claim our irrelevancy in the contemporary world. We are parts of insti-tutions, but our challenge is to be humble, to work these steps, to walk a spiritual path, to reflect the koinonia attitude in how we reflect the mer-ciful love and justice of God with others. Koinonia In the 12 steps, we come to let go of fears or pseudocommunity pre-tenses, self-seeking, and control. The 12 steps help us to relate more hon-estly, more compassionately to the people with whom we live and work, but there is anoiher dimension beyond this. Koinonia is a Greek word meaning "a deep sense of interconnectedness, of communion with oth- The S.P.E.A.K. Model ers at the faith level." Rollo May suggests that our entire culture is schizoid, out of touch, avoiding close relationships, unable to feel, unable to express aggressive feelings directly, seclusive and personally withdrawn. In this koinonia area we measure our lifestyles against the radical demands of the Gos-pel model of Jesus. We contrast it with the dominant values of society, the dependencies, the addictions, the fear, and the lack of touch. Koinonia challenges us to see the whole world as a community. Our new spiritual awakening leads us to hunger to create a new civilization in which war, violence, terrorism, and oppression are banished. We know from our own personal experience that another way is possible. No one of us can do this of ourselves, but just as the early Church persisted, and pervades the earth today, so can we, one small community at a time! For interrelatedness to happen in this world, people have to be in-terrelating; then God takes over and lets the miracles happen. We let go, and let him. The challenge of koinonia is for us to drop pretenses, to leave the door open for others to see us cry, to be with us as we grow, to hear our laughter, to let people see how we love each other. From this koinonia sense, we grow to be able to include others, to let them walk in and touch us so that even more of us are empowered to know and wit-ness to his Good News. Summary The power of the S.P.E.A.K. model lies in our openness to continue to let go, to let God be God in our lives. We use and continue to use the 12 steps and a formation companion so that we deepen in a personal relationship with him. We work and pray to be teachable spiritually, physi-cally, emotionally, relati0nally, and in our ministry, not for ourselves, but so that a troubled world may know what w.e see, and hear, and know. As a direct result of working this program, of walking these steps, we find that we no longer have to hold up masks of spiritual perfection since we are "professional," vowed religious. Instead, we have become free to share our struggle with others as equals in his love. We share our spiritual progress. We do not need to be self-protective anymore, but our arms are open to include others. There is nothing to fear because there is nothing to protect. If there is concern as to how to start with these twelve steps, there are often ready and available resources in each local parish and in many retreat houses and religious communities. Many parishes have good solid parish leaders who are recovering from some compulsive pattern or ad-diction. These people are more than ready to share the Good News with 200 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 us. Also, many religious communities and retreat houses have members in 12-step programs, or who have learned of these steps by exploring them in their own lives. These people are also usually more than gener-ous in sharing what they have seen and heard with their own eyes and ears. 'RESOURCES Alcoholics Anonymous.Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions. New York: Alcohol-ics Anonymous World Services, Inc., 1981. Elgin, Duane. Voluntary Simplicity: Toward A Way of Life That Is Outwardly Sim-ple, Inwardly Rich. N.Y.: William Morrow & Co., 1981. Hart, Thomas N. The Art of Christian Listening. N.Y.: Paulist Press. 1980. Main, John, O.S.B. Death: The Inner Journey. Montreal: Benedictine Priory, 1983. Nouwen, Henri. With OutStretched Hands: Reflections on Christian Leadership in the Future. Unpublished paper, 1989. Palmer, Helen. Enneagram: Understanding Yourself and the Others in Your Life. San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1988. Peck, M. Scott. The Different Drum: Community Making and Peace. New York: Si-mon & Shuster, 1987. Schaef, Anne W. Co-Dependence: Misunderstood--Mistreated. Minneapolis, MN: Winston Press, 1986. Sperry, Len. "Daily Decisions About Nutrition." Human Development 9 (Spring, 1988). Pp. 40-46. Subby, Robert, and Fried, John. "Co-Dependence: A Paradoxical Dependency," in Co-Dependency! An Emerging Issue, Pompano Beach, Florida: Hath Communi-cations, 1984. Trungpa, Chogyam. Cutting Through Spiritual Materialism. Boston: Shambala, 1973. In the Valley of Decision Marie Beha, O.S.C. Sister Marie Beha, O.S.C., continues to reside in the Monastery of St. Clare; 1916 N. Pleasantburg Drive; Greenville, South Carolina 29609. In the early days of my religious life, one Sunday a month was set aside as a day of recollection, a retreat day. Out of earshot of the novice di-rector, we called it "dead Sunday," because it featured extra time for a meditation on death. Even though we resisted some of the more mor-bid descriptions following that meditation's first prelude, "Place your-self on your deathbed," the practice did ensure that we were regularly confronted with the realization of personal mortality. Today there are plenty of other reminders: tragedy that shouts in the headlines and is pictured in all its starkness on television or in the news magazines, the alarming statistics of the rising number of adolescent sui-cides, the toll of AIDS, the senseless slaughter of innocent victims in bombing raids, and the torture of random hostages. To this litany we add our more personalized grief over the death of family and friends. We know dying in all of its unexpectedness, its violence, its tragedy, our grief compounded the closer we are to the individuals who have died. And in our world of instant communication death is never very far away. What we are less familiar with is the dying of our institutions, our communities. Not that this is a new phenomenon either. It is as much a fact of life as the death of individuals but less perceptible except with the long look of history. By the time that history notices, however, those with most reason to mourn have already passed th.rough death them-selves. Yet institutional dying is an ever present reality. On the global level we are threatened by almost certain extinction if nation against nation 201 202 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 ever turns to nuclear war. We face the unknown consequences of our wan-ton destruction of rain forests centuries in the growing. We worry about environmental pollution passing on to the next generation, an earth poi-soned beyond, control. We experience that our technology so outstrips our wisdom that we may be as likely to kill as to cure. On the local level, that of the communities where we live, we con-front death every time a neighborhood is ripped up to make way for prog-ress or a business closes because of obsolescence. Families come to the end of the generations, as they have always done, but now the very in-stitution of the family itself seems doomed to extinction. Divorce, child-less marriages, abortion, weaken it from within, while drugs and the value-system of a consumer society attack it from without. Churches are empty so parishes close, following the demise of the parochial school. Religious communities face not only financial crises of major proportions but also the slow starvation of fewer and fewer vocations. Already some congregations are opting for survival through merger; others have been "suppressed," as the death process is termed, grimly enough, in Church law. Within the foreshortened history of our individual lives, we can no longer deny the mortality of our institutions; we are being invited to en-ter consciously into what is happening all around us. We become aware that some communities simply expire, brought down by their own dis-eased condition or their inability to receive from, or give life to, the world around them. They starve to death. Others die honorably and natu-rally of old age. Some fade away forced by circumstances to accept their growing irrelevance; others are felled by revolution while still in their prime. The question is not "Do institutions die?" but "How do they? And how do we respond to their dying?" Are we aware or do we prefer the apparent safety of denial? When denial is no longer possible, what do we do then? Rage against the inevitable? Give up? Bargain for more time? Or do we face institutional death with courage, living the present to the full, admitting that life's precariousness is part of its preciousness? The choice of response is ours, not only as individuals, but as commu-nities. Instant communication provides information; it does not ensure adequate response nor delay death's inevitability. Institutions must die, but how they die is a matter of decision. Ours! Theological Reflections for a Dying Community On our way north we had stopped overnight, availing ourselves of the gracious hospitality that had suggested, "Come anytime." The build- In the Valley of Decision / 203 ing was 1950-modern, far too large for the eight or so sisters who pres-ently occupied it. The refectory seemed cavernous; it could easily have seated forty. Mercifully the community room was small and cozy, the superior.exp!aining that it had once been the priest's dining room. She also mentioned that the third floor was closed off to save heat, and it was obvious that the second floor was sparsely populated. The situation was depressingly familiar. What was remarkable was the sense of joy that made supper a re-freshment for body and spirit. The sisters welcoming us ranged in age from the superior in her late 40s, who had introduced herself as "the only young sister here," to an octogenarian busily can'ying in dishes from the kitchen. I was seated next to a sister in a wheel chair who had been brought in by another sister who seemed to be using the wheel chair as a substitute walker. Both smiled a sincere welcome, "We are so glad to have you with us." Others gathered and I guessed the average age somewhere in the 70s. The conversation soon revealed that most were active in one way or another. Some spoke of bringing Communion to the sick; others of tutoring kids from the nearby elementary school. One 85- year-old had tales to tell of the black children she helped in a Head Start program; her love for the children was obvious. Another drew her chair closer to mine, saying that she did not hear well anymore and did not want to miss a word; her attentiveness the rest 6f the meal made us all more articulate. Table conversation included convent trivia but it did not stay there. The sisters read widely and well. They ~ere critical of what the~ had heard on TV, exchanged evaluations of VCR programs. And peppered me with good questions in a way that told me why they were so well in-formed about what was happening in the contemporary Church. When they welcomed visitors, these sisters welcomed the wider world. Towards the end of the meal, I deliberately intoned the familiar list of religious-life woes: few recruits, shrinking apostolates, the "greying" of the congregation. The facts were acknowledged. The sisters' response was obviously the fruit of many shared reflections. They were happy with the community they had chosen and the life they shared; now they would see each other through to the end. God was with .them, still at work in his world. As one said to me with a smile that I will never for-get, "Our community may be dying but God is making something new. ' ' As I threaded my way back to the freeway next morning, I found my-self reflecting on what I had heard and seen. There was no denial of 91~4 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 death. The shrinking number of sisters and their physical limitations were accepted facts of life; they were not neurotic preoccupations. The sisters were too alive for that. Their acceptance was not tainted with hopeless-ness and its equivalent suicide. They were not actualizing their worst fears by giving in to bitterness or despair. Today their community is alive; some tomorrow it might not be. Progression toward an end time is inevitable, whether it is their owndeath, that of the their beloved con-gregation, or the final days of the world. "And after that the judg-ment"., a judgment that is in the making in their response now. Im-plicit in the faith of these few old sisters was a whole theology of the death and dying of institutions. Awareness precedes acceptance. So faith-response to death and dy-ing begins by breaking through denial. Like the middle-aged woman look-ing in the mirror and acknowledging that the first wrinkles are more than shadows caused by poor lighting, all need to admit "We are moving to-ward death." This world is passing away and the institutions that pres-ently shape it will not always do so. Even now all are dying. At times this process accelerates and we experience the diminish-ment. The grace of such periods is that of bringing us into contact with a truth we too easily ignore; its occasion of sin is confusion in our re-sponse. There are seasons when death's approach must be resisted strongly; in fact, this is always our first response. "Choose life." But there comes a time when resistance is useless; surrender is called for. The difference between may be difficult to recognize but it is critically im-portant. Faith's response balances "choose life" with "accept death." For the believer, for the community of believers, the ultimate answer is not biological, nor sociological, but Christological. "Am I alive in Christ? Is my dying a going to the Father in and with Christ Jesus?" If so, my death is a coming alive. "Or am I mortally, morally, and spiritually sick unto eternal death?" Then my living and my dying are both lost forever. Responding to this question that all death and dying puts before us forces freedom's choice. Our answer rises out of life; it is the last sylla-ble in the sentence we have been phrasing in all the pronouncements of life, all individual or institutional decision-making. Only in death will we become finally free to speak the word that is Self. Only in the act of dying will we, individuals and communities, be capable of that con-summation of freedom which is total, absolute, commitment. In dying, the mystery of living stands revealed; dying-rising are one whole mystery, one continuous process, one word, even though our ex- In the Valley of Decision / 205 perience, as well as our orthography, spells it with a hyphen. Dying is a breakthrough into life; at least, it can be. That is freedom's choice; we determine the meaning. Just as Jesus did. Dying: Christological Implications. How did Jesus die? The answer has been repeated so often that the cross has lost its power to say anything; it is decoration more than real-ity. Yet redemption, becoming free, growing into holiness, are only pos-sible when we as individuals, as communities, enter into the passion and death of Jesus. So again, how did Jesus die? As we do, moving through the process of realizing it, being angered by it, bargaining with it, feeling blackness of depression, and, finally, coming to an acceptance that transforms death into fuller life. Particularly in the gospel of Luke, we see the whole life of Jesus as a moving toward his death. We read, "He set his face toward Jerusa-lem" (Lk 9:51). This was where he was going, the call of his Father's .love, the motivation for his every redemptive act. Death and dying were important concerns he spoke about to those who were closest to him. Not that they understood or appreciated such reminders of mortality. They denied the facts, even protested. They were for kingdom building here, now, in their world. And Jesus rebuked them sharply, "Get behind me, satan" (Mk 8:33). Jesus acknowledged death's inevitability; he knew that his way of liv-ing would lead to the cross. What he chose was life, a life that would climax in death. He freely accepted the fatal consequences of choosing to live, to teach, to act as he did. Aware and able to choose, in the free-dom that rose from who he was before the Father, he embraced the dy-ing that went with the living. Knowing and accepting did not rule out protest. Jesus' response to the pharisees who were seeking to put him to death (Jn 8:40) was clear and unequivocal. They were doing the work of the devil, whose sons they were! Even at the end, Jesus protested the injustice of his being con-demned to death. He refused to cooperate with Herod's court of inquiry, remaining silent when lifesaving prudence might have dictated at least a minimum of cooperation. Before Pilate, his protest became vocal. "Do you ask this of your own accord. ? . My kingdom is not of this world" (Jn 18:35). Previous to this, the power of his self-assertion directed against the soldiers sent to arrest him had set them back on their heels. Jesus was angry; he did not deserve death. "If I have done good why do you seek 206 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 to kill me?" Why die? Why me? That is the protest life addresses to death. Ultimately it becomes a question addressed to the Lord of life. Why suffering? Why dying? The answer does not come easily. The healthier the person, the more wrench-ing the acceptance. Jesus sweat blood before his will could speak out its central commitment, "Not my will but yours be done" (Mk 14:37). The struggle, the bargaining, were finished. The passion continued. The dying of Jesus moved toward completion, each stage bringing him down, deeper into "the pit of death." Betrayal, abandonment, physi-cal and emotional abuse would take their terrible toll. Fastened to the cross Jesus would drink death's cup to the bitter dregs. He would express heartbreak in a cry of desolation, "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?" (Mk 15:34). "He who did not know sin had been made sin" (2 Co 5:21) for our sake, and Jesus felt the oppression of slavery and alienation. He accepted, "It is accomplished" (Jn 19:30). His last word summed up his life's orientation. He would die as he had lived into the hands of his Father, his trust redeeming the horror of death by cruci-fixion, transforming passion's suffering into self-offering. The acceptance of Jesus' surrender opened out into the new life of resurrection. What he gave up, he received back; rather, his resurrection was a "making new." Through dying, he went beyond death. This is now clear to us with the evidence of something accomplished. But for Jesus, as for us, surrender into death was an act of faith, an experience of letting go with only trust to justify the risk. Death must come first, before new life is possible. Jesus had to lose his life. So must we. Mortality Denied The passion and death of Jesus is invitation, something we can freely enter into or can refuse and resist. Whatever our choice, the process ton-tinues but its effectiveness depends radically on our response to this fact of life, our mortality as individuals and as communities. We can opt to live through our dying or we can choose to deny death and so die to life. Denial is the first of our resistances. A community, for example, can refuse to face what is happening, as the number of new members de-creases and average age rises. Data are challenged; the credentials of the statistician questioned. Others are blamed for the crisis; "they" are no longer generous, interested, concerned. These are obvious forms of de-nial and they do nothing to stop the progress of decline. Less obvious is the denial that refuses to face, not only the symp-toms, but the cause of the illness as well, its seriousness, the rate of pro-gression, its effect on others. Why is community dying? Is it diseased, In the Valley of Decision / 207 brought down by "infection" from surrounding culture or by a lifestyle that is no longer functional? Or is it simply succumbing to old age, the inevitable decline that is the underside of history's progress? Is this pro-cess reversible, something that a group needs to pass through and then go on with life as before? Or does it require a change of direction, a new and different way of living? Is this illness terminal? If so, how much time is left? How rapid the progression of present rates of decline? Howare others affected by our dying as community? Are they suffering too, and what can be done to alleviate their pain? The questions are stark; no one asks them lightly. Unwillingness to even look at them is denial made possible through the use of those de-fense mechanisms with which we are all too familiar. We rationalize, pre-senting specious reasons to explain present experience: we are not dy-ing, just "indisposed." The whole problem is temporary; things will turn around soon. Besides we are not to blame. The reverse side of this stance.is: some-body must be. We blame other people, including God! Our dying is the will of God and so must be accepted. Perhaps. "God willing" may ex-press surrender but it may also attribute to God something that we have not yet faced. The very rightness of our reasoning is all the more dan-gerous because it cloaks denial with religious ritual, an especially safe form of repression. Paradoxically, community may also deny responsibility by giving too much credence to those who are predicting its demise; it lacks the inner freedom to reply, "The reports of our death are greatly exagger-ated!" While the prophets of doom may be correct, they may also be mis-taken. The accuracy of their prophecies will only be revealed when the future becomes present. All we know now is that attitude makes a dif-ference. While refusing to acknowledge the seriousness of the situation will not cure it, giving up hope will surely condemn us to death. Another inappropriate response attempts to ignore the whole ques-tion and continues, doggedly, to do what "we have always done." We may call this fidelity but it is not. Fidelity is creative response incorpo-rating past into present and moving on into the new of the future. Denial condemns to fruitless repetition that goes nowhere. Preoccupation with safety and security needs is a rather accurate index of a group's mori-bund condition. Overreliance on what has worked in the past may simu-late faith, but it really is presumption. "God will take care of us" may be just another attempt to manipulate God into doing what we neglect to do for ourselves. 2011 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 Denial is failed responsibility; it violates the delicate line of balance between doing all that we can but not more than we ought. So commu-nity that is experiencing some of the symptoms of approaching death errs either by ignoring the situation or by exaggerating solutions. It can, for example, refuse assistance, since accepting help involves admitting a need for it. It can also erupt in a flurry of poorly planned activity, lis-tening to every guru who promises gilt-edged salvation. Fund-raisers can be a preferred way for Americans to refuse responsibility while appear-ing to assume it. Community Anger The hidden blessing of denial is its inevitable failure. When facts can no longer be avoided, they must be faced. Anger follows. Unfortunately, it too can be denied, hidden, buried under heaps of inappropriate behav-ior, deflected in projections; or it can rage out of control, leaving devas-tation in its wake. Anger denied is dangerous; anger accepted and appropriately ex-pressed is powerful energy for good. It can move a community deeper into the paschal mystery; it can lead to life. The question is how? The first answer: by acknowledging what is happening. Are we as commu-nity angry? What are we angry about? Community anger, like that of individuals, is often misplaced. It looks for some convenient target; so we kick the dog because we cannot face its owner. Seeking some scapegoat we may even turn against our own. If our predecessors had only been wiser. If present membership were less selfish, recruitment more effective, formation better planned. What may have been only contributing factors are made to bear the whole weight of adequate causes. The same projection of anger can be vented on persons and groups outside community. The more helpless the victim, the safer the outrage. An angry community becomes increasingly critical. Its spirit grows sour; its activity strained and harsh. It asks too much of members and of others. Aggressivity swallows up joy, dissolves compassion. Dying is always pain-filled, difficult. Anger is a "messy" emotion. Commu-nity at this stage will be broken wide open, all its wounds and weak-nesses revealed. Members will leave, pursued by the fury of those who remain and feel abandoned. Those who stay may wallow in unattractive self-pity, becoming entrenched in the very symptoms of the dying. Underneath this storm of pain, community is most of all angry at it-self. We cannot live "on our own"; mortality strikes a vital blow at the myth of .self-sufficiency. The length of our days is not something we con- In the Valley of Decision / 209 trol. Our raging against this will not change its truth. Acceptance is the only way through and out. Grief Work But first community needs to mourn. We are losing our life. We may not know yet whether what we are facing is the final test of death and burial or only the call to pass through another cycle of dying. In either case we must enter into the pain. Grievir~g community needs both time and distance. Some members can let go of the.past more quickly than others, the rate being determined by such variables as temperament and degree of attachment. Mourning demands patience; it is not just linear but cyclic. Going through requires repetition, reexperiencing and reexpressing the grief. Things will not be the same . . . ever., this is an ending. Community needs to provide itself with space and time for the griev-ing. When members leave, for example, those who are left behind may have as much adjusting to do as those who face the transition into new beginnings. The anger of the community may even be increased by the fact---characteristic of all our dying--that it has been confronted with a decision not of its own choosing. Healthy grieving not only takes time; it has its own timing. How long it lasts and how often the cycle of anger., depression., anger. must be repeated cannot be determined from outside community. But, finally, a group, as well as the individuals who compose it, need to make a decision to move on. We will never be the same. The past cannot be reconstructed; nor those who have been part of us, returned. As much as we might like to remember past glory-days, they no longer offer the satisfaction of present reality. Now we have to live., or not live. in the present. Unhealthy grieving fails this reality test. It can be so prolonged that all one's life energy goes into it; dying is all that remains of life. That is not grief but defeat. Even in the pain the option remains to "choose life." So a community that is dying can continue to model attitudes of openness and concern for others. It can choose to serve as long and as much as it is able. In doing so it affirms the ultimate value of life even in the midst of death. Community can avoid the withdrawal, the turning in on self, that threatens to allow dying to become a form of being buried alive. De-pression risks just such introversion. Granted that the temptation to al-low pain to become preoccupation can be great, it is also self-defeating. It only intensifies and prolongs the suffering. Depression that is indulged 910 / Review for Religious, March-April 1991 in grows bitter and that is the worst kind of death; in the end, the natural aloneness of dying becomes enforced isolation. To avoid this, outside support is almost necessary to assist groups working through depression. Their greater objectivity enables com-munity not to get stuck in the process. Perhaps all that others do is to name what is going on and this already frees energies. While ac-knowledgment is one service others render, appreciation is still more thera-peutic. ApFreciation of what has been, yes, but also gratitude for the im-mediate gift that the dying community continues to offer, its participa-tion in the paschal mystery. Acceptance of Death Acceptance should not image supine submission to what can no longer be avoided. It is an attitude of strength that kno

Interview with Mary Anne Taylor and Rosemary Mazzaferro Pepin. Topics include: Memories of their grandmothers. Their parents spoke Italian. The difference between children in Italy today and children in the United States. Living close to family. The work Mary Anne and Rosemary do. What their mother is like. Italian food and cooking. Faith and going to church with their families. The importance of education, getting good grades, and going to college. Mary Ann and Rosemary went to Holy Cross. The differences in how Mary Ann and Rosemary were raised compared to their brothers. The support of their parents. Memories from living on Central Street. Growing up with their cousins nearby. What their Italian heritage means to them. The immediate impact of September 11th. Mary Anne's hair accessory business. Their parents' strong work ethic. ; 1 INTERVIEWER: …with the Center for Italian Culture at 12:55. And [unintelligible - 00:00:10] at their parents' house at 575 West Street. If you could just tell me your names, just so I can make sure this is being recorded. ROSE MARY: Rose Mary Peppin. MARYANNE: Maryanne Taylor. INTERVIEWER: Okay, now it's working. I'll be asking questions. MARYANNE: 'Cause I don't know what this is about… INTERVIEWER: Now, I'd like to -- I'll go out with, first of all, tell me a little about you grandparents if you remember them at all. MARYANNE: The only ones we could remember is our grandmothers. Both are grandfathers were passed on before we were born. Our grandmothers were elderly when we were small, right. So as far as I remember, my grandmother, my father's mother, [unintelligible - 00:00:57], she stayed at home and she cooked and took care of her family, and it was the same with my mother's mother, Carmela Guglielmi. She did pretty much the same thing. INTERVIEWER: Yeah. Were they living close by to each other? Or… ROSE MARY: My dad's mother, [unintelligible - 00:01:18], she lived not far from Saint Andrew's Church. And [unintelligible - 00:01:24] about her because she passed on when I was… MARYANNE: I was eight. ROSE MARY: So I was like six. I just remember her being in the kitchen and just kind of stirring things around. I don't really have a great recollection… MARYANNE: She used to make Italian cookies. That's the one thing I remember about her. She always made the best. And she always had [unintelligible - 00:01:49] or very often when we came to visit. INTERVIEWER: Do you remember [unintelligible - 00:01:53]?2 ROSE MARY: They spoke English, but they spoke Italian with their children. They spoke English to use, but they didn't speak it very well. A bit of a broken English. Not extremely, but -- and Italian accent. MARYANNE: Broken English for sure with dad's mother is what I would always remember, and pretty good [unintelligible - 00:02:15]. ROSE MARY: Right. They would always speak Italian to each other when they didn't want us to know what they were talking about. We remember that. Do you remember that? MARYANNE: I remember that. INTERVIEWER: Your parents would speak Italian, in the house with the kids? MARYANNE: I don't remember that. But I remember with their friends that were Italian, and again, if they were explaining something that was not for the kids' ears, they would get into Italian. ROSE MARY: They would speak Italian with their parents but not with us. And not with each other, I don't think. Not with their brothers and sisters. They spoke English. INTERVIEWER: Do you ever wish that you had learned? ROSE MARY: Definitely. I have learned a little bit of Italian myself. MARYANNE: I did learn a little bit myself also. ROSE MARY: I spent a couple of years living in Italy. And so -- and at that time I could speak Italian. Not fluently, but enough to get by. But that was in the early '80s, and because nobody speaks Italian, I have forgotten just about everything. But I do very much wish that I had Italian. I'm in touch with my Italian relatives in Italy. A lot of them speak English because they learned it in school, but it would be nice to be able to speak Italian to them also. It would be easier to communicate. INTERVIEWER: Why did you live in Italy? ROSE MARY: Well, my ex-husband was in the military. He was in the Navy, and we were stationed there for two and a half years. So we were stationed in Naples, Italy. So at that time I spent a lot of time 3 visiting relatives. And I got to know them and maintain those friendships right up to today. Last summer, my son and I—my son just turned 14—we went to visit with them. And the neat thing about it is that it is hard to keep in touch with people that live in Italy because the long distance phone calls and everything. But now because of email, my son, who is 14, has a teenage cousin over there that they can email each other back and forth, and it's no more expensive than talking with your friends through email. And they can communicate on all different levels. Some of them are very good with English. Some of them are really struggling, but they all study it in school. So they are able to communicate. It's a little strained with some of them because they really have to think about what they want… INTERVIEWER: What were the years that you lived in Italy? ROSE MARY: It was 1982 to 1985. INTERVIEWER: Getting back to your son, and we will get back to the other things, I'm sorry but, your 14-year-old son. Do you see any differences between him and… ROSE MARY: The ones that live in Italy? Yes, I do. Maybe actually I don't. In some ways I think that their families are a lot closer there. I mean, we have a close family, but I think that -- for example all the cousins in Rome, they all live very close to each other, and they want to be that way. None of them want to leave Rome. They all want to be with their family and live near the family. Whereas I think these kids, they want to go off to college, they want to go live somewhere else, they want to experience things that are away. Other than that they seem very similar in a lot of ways in that they love the same things. They love rock music, they love going to the beach, they love going to the clubs, you know. 4 A lot of the Italian kids listen to American music. So they have that in common. Video games, they play video games. They have a lot of things in common. There is not drinking age in Italy. And according to all my Italian relatives there is no problem with alcohol. Alcoholism is rare in Italy. And kids wanting to drink, they are able to drink. They are able to go to bars from their early teens, pre-teens, and they aren't that interested in drinking. But they may order a drink at the age of 14 or 15 but they don't get drunk. And we did go to bars when we were visiting them last summer. They were all about the same age 14, 15, 16 to 18, and they would order a drink or two drinks at a bar, but they would never get drunk. INTERVIEWER: What about your son? ROSE MARY: My son isn't really interested in drinking. He's, you know, like I said, he just turned 14, so he was actually only 13 last summer. He would try them, just take a taste, to have the taste of the Italian liquor that, you know, we can't get here, but that's all. He wasn't really interested in drinking. He is still very young for that. MARYANNE: Something that you mentioned about the kids now, with your son and the numerous [unintelligible - 00:07:17] to my parents. I think what you said about them wanting to go experience new things, I think college and then, you know, look for different jobs than we are, I didn't have any interest in being back in Leominster. I wanted to, you know, live elsewhere and just from where college took me to different jobs. And then just 10 years later, I am back in Leominster, and you know, just the way things happened. And then, and you look at and you value the families more, I think when you do have kids. And I think with my mother and father it was just totally different world then, but they -- just the way things happened, Leominster boy meets Fitchburg girl, and they marry, 5 and everyone is from the same area. So I think that's just the change… INTERVIEWER: What do you think is the stimulus for that? MARYANNE: Education. I think the opportunity you can do whatever… ROSE MARY: And also, I think that the generation that is growing up right now [unintelligible - 00:08:22] our generation is more like my parents' generation. For example, my mother's family, my mother has three sisters and herself. She's the one that moved farthest away, moving from Fitchburg to Leominster. But her sister, one of her sisters never got married and stayed right in the house and still lives there today. You know, she has been living in the same house for 70 something years. Her other sister moved next door, built a house next door. Her other sister moved just up the street. My father's side the same way. His father and mother had a house. One of his brothers moved next door. One of his brothers moved behind the house, and the others were all kind of in the area. And the people seem to be like that still. They get married but they just move very close by. In fact, my cousins in Italy -- I don't work, we have a big family business with the plastic factory. I don't work in the family business. And my cousins in Italy had a hard time understanding that. Why, because when there is a family business in Italy, the whole family works in the family business, and it doesn't make sense to work somewhere else. They couldn't, you know -- it's a different kind of thinking. They couldn't understand that oh, well I want to do something different. INTERVIEWER: Did your parents? ROSE MARY: Oh, yes. They don't have any problem with it. Like my sister just said, she never even thought that she would come back and work in the family business. And it wasn't really a thought that we had to work in the family business growing up. We could do whatever 6 we wanted. But in Italy it's just more expected that you work in the family business. They still have that kind of thinking, I think, that, you know, they're all tied up with their families and all working together, all living close by each other. INTERVIEWER: How is it that you both ended up back in Leominster even though you didn't foresee that? MARYANNE: I went out to college and then got a journalism degree in Chicago. And then from that I was looking for jobs in the newspaper industry, and the job I got took me to Florida. So I lived in Florida for about three years and got a little discouraged with that just because of the -- it just wasn't a great fit for what I wanted to do, and the pay was not very good in Florida and also in the newspaper industry. So I started doing different sales jobs. And so I did that for a while, and then my mother was calling and saying come back, come back, and I just was -- I was happy there; I just wanted to experience life outside of the area. But then my brother, who was actually working in the family business, he was saying we really need some help in the family business doing sales. And so I thought about it and thought about the climate, because also the Florida heat was not grand. I did like the skiing and all that, so I just, I came back at that point and lived in different, lived in the area, and then lived in the Boston area for a little bit. And that's how I came back. INTERVIEWER: So then you ended up marrying someone? MARYANNE: Actually, I married someone from, who grew up in Westborough, Mass. We just met at a local health club. And we just were friends and then we got married and ended up finding a house in Leominster. And now, I actually -- well, now I don't really work in the family business, but I used to be part of it, and I bought part of the business, and it's a hair accessory business. And then -- so 7 that's still based in Leominster and is -- because it's tied into plastics, and I used [unintelligible - 00:12:12] some of the products so it just made sense that I'm here and being now 40. But even at 30 I could just see the benefit of Leominster, the town of Leominster, versus living in Boston with the traffic and all that. And it's a nice place to raise kids. So that's why I'm back here. That's the long story. INTERVIEWER: Does your husband work in the business? MARYANNE: Right before the birth of my second child he left his job to work with me, which -- it would have been a hell of a business because I couldn't do it with two kids and using daycare as we wanted, limited daycare. So he did join the business, and now the two of us are together. It's called Good Hair Days, Incorporated. INTERVIEWER: I love that name. Who thought up that name? Did you think of that name? MARYANNE: Yes. It's six years old now, and it started in 1996. INTERVIEWER: How did you end up back in Leominster? ROSE MARY: It was really just kind of by chance. I did want to come back to New England because I live in different places that didn't have any seasons. I loved the change of seasons in New England. And I just wanted to come back to New England, and it just turned out that it was convenient to live in Leominster. You know, the housing market at that time was good for me. One I got settled in, I just didn't move. INTERVIEWER: Were you still married at that time? ROSE MARY: At that time I was still married. Yes. But not now. Though it kind of worked out for me to stay in Leominster. I mean, I had a very small child, a one-year-old, on my own, so it did help to be around family. INTERVIEWER: And what business are you in? You're in real estate?8 ROSE MARY: I'm in real estate. Real estate broker, and -- no, I don't. I work at the Boss realty group in Leominster. INTERVIEWER: What's the name of it? ROSE MARY: Boss, B-O-S-S. That's my life in English, certified to be a high school, English teacher. But I haven't done it. I've actually done teaching when I was in Italy. In fact I taught English as a second language at the adult night school, which is a very fun job. When I came back here I was actually going to go into teaching, but at that time I was starting to go on my own at that time, so I went into something else where I could make a little more money. INTERVIEWER: Thought of the plastics industry? ROSE MARY: Yeah, I thought of it. I did work for a little while in it, when my son was young, but it's just not something I wanted to stay with. And I do like what I do. And it's working out well for me. INTERVIEWER: In fact, you invest in real estate property. ROSE MARY: Right. Mainly I do real estate investments. I do brokerage also but mainly I do investing. And it's been working out very well, so. I'm my own boss, which I really like. You know, I do work for a company, but as a broker you're an independent contractor, so you do your own thing pretty much, your own hours, things like that. INTERVIEWER: Your family rarely spoke about your father's mother. What can you remember about your mother's mother? ROSE MARY: Mother's mother was living until we were well into our twenties, probably mid or late twenties. 1983 is when she passed away. [Unintelligible - 00:15:32] MARYANNE: We visited, and she used to come around. She had a lot of energy, like my mother, is what I remember. Going to the Cape house, a weekend on the Cape. And I can remember going shopping. We were teenagers or adults or something, and it would be my mother, my mother's mother, and, you know, several kids. And I can 9 remember my grandmother just wearing everybody out shopping. She kept going and going. ROSE MARY: She loved to shop. MARYANNE: Picking out for her, however many grandkids she had. She just, would keep shopping. ROSE MARY: Going and going. MARYANNE: [Unintelligible - 00:16:15] Christmas tree shops and wherever else and just shop. And also she would always, whenever we visited, she would have Stella Doro cookies, and we had to take them home. No matter if we were on diets. ROSE MARY: She loved us like that. MARYANNE: You gotta eat. You gotta eat, and that's the way my mother is, too, with us, I can remember. And now with our kids, trying to eat lunch, early supper. ROSE MARY: Very religious, she went to mass every day, which my mother does now too, every morning. She would walk to church all the way up until she was well into her mid to late eighties. She would walk to church. INTERVIEWER: And what street was that that they lived on? ROSE MARY: She lived on Belmont Street, and she would walk down to Saint Anthony's Church. Actually, one year she did fall and break her hip on it. But she -- we used to visit her every Sunday. It was a regular routine every Sunday. We would go to church and then we would visit the grandmothers. One or the other or both. INTERVIEWER: Would she have a big dinner for all of you? ROSE MARY: There would be a lot of food and she would love to feed us. She would just keep offering food. And I remember one occasion when my brothers decided they wouldn't say no, they would just keep eating everything that was offered. MARYANNE: I think I remember that.10 ROSE MARY: And she never stopped offering and they just kept eating. I don't know how it finally stopped. They just couldn't do it anymore or something, but she was like that. INTERVIEWER: What was the relationship like between your mother and your grandmother? MARYANNE: They visit each other like once a week. I don't remember if they did talk every day. ROSE MARY: Yeah, they would. You know, that's what I recall, my mother calling at least every day on the phone. INTERVIEWER: Do you have any similarities between the relationship with your mother that she had with hers? ROSE MARY: Yes. Yeah. I say I see a lot of similarities between the way my mother is and her mother is. They both go to church every day, every morning. My mother, you know, they like to tell you how to raise the kids and that kind of thing. And her mother would do that to her. And Ma will do that to us, shoes and those kinds of thing. And my diet and the children's bedtime. All those things, you know. Not in a bad way. Same kind of thing. I think the grandmothers, they like to tell their daughters how to, the best way to raise their kids. MARYANNE: I've had -- you've had 14 years with it. My kids are young, 18 months and three, so. ROSE MARY: Oh, when they're little, I guess. Not as much now. And my [unintelligible - 00:19:07] loves to cook. Every time the kids come in she cooks. It doesn't matter what time it is. She gives them food, she feeds them. You know, feeding them all the time is a really important thing. Especially when they were little. She always had food for them, made a lot of pasta for them. There was always a lot of pasta when we were visiting our grandmother's. And there's a lot for our kids. 11 INTERVIEWER: [Unintelligible - 00:19:35] have you tried to keep up that tradition? ROSE MARY: A little bit. Not like my mother. My mother does cook Italian food. And her mother cooked Italian food… MARYANNE: I know my mother has a meatball recipe that was given to me, and I made it. ROSE MARY: And lasagna recipes. MARYANNE: I know that Nana Mazzaferro had some kind of Italian soup that is a combination of everything [unintelligible - 00:20:02]. My father's sister has that recipe, and she makes it now and then. ROSE MARY: [Unintelligible - 00:20:10] we've taken, and [unintelligible - 00:20:12]. And I love Italian. A lot of the foods that I -- I've actually learned to cook some Italian food when I was in Italy, from my cousins, actually, or just from people that I knew. And I do have those recipes at home. And a lot of the Italian food that you can get in Italy are ingredients, you can't find them here. So, I do try to carry on, I mean, just because I enjoy it. Not really for the sake of the tradition, but I do enjoy the food. You can't, you have to go to the north end, in Boston, to find them, some of the ingredients. [Unintelligible - 00:20:51] I don't know if you ever heard of that. But that's hard to find. INTERVIEWER: What other kinds of traditions to do you try to carry on? What about church? ROSE MARY: I'm not really a regular, but you know, we do try. MARYANNE: [Unintelligible - 00:21:12] about getting there. But you know, we talk about God and Jesus. But they're only… she's only three and one and a half. So one and a half. INTERVIEWER: Whether or not you go to church, that's kind of irrelevant? ROSE MARY: Oh yes, yes. Faith is important. MARYANNE: I believe in God and I believe in teaching them about that.12 ROSE MARY: We would say our prayers every night before going to bed, and I carry that on with my son. Even at 14 he says his prayers every night. You know, we do have faith. A lot of activities. MARYANNE: I remember as a kid growing up that whenever we had -- our cousins would attend, I'd say, my mother -- when we were little I see movies. They were big movie takers, my parents, it seems. The birthday parties were celebrated. And I think we try to do that now with the grandkids. But as they get older they don't want a birthday party, so that's understandable. But for the young ones we still do get together. MARYANNE: As they get older they just want to have birthday parties with their friends. When they were little they all, we all, had birthday parties and we'd all attend. All the aunts, uncles, cousins, so. INTERVIEWER: While you were in school did she work outside of the home? ROSE MARY: Probably when we all reached about junior high school level, and not when we were in elementary school. But she worked with my father in the family business, the plastics business. That's mainly what she did. MARYANNE: I think when I was around 14 or so I think is when she went to college for the first time. So she started studying. Even as we were young kids, babies and all, she would help my dad with any of the accounting business, and just doing some paperwork after the kids were in bed. ROSE MARY: She helped my father all along. She would do paperwork and things on a fulltime basis. Once we got to the junior high school level, and then like you said, when we even got just a little bit older she went back to college. INTERVIEWER: Tell me about that, her going back to college. MARYANNE: I thought it was great. It was something that she wanted to do, and I thought it was great.13 ROSE MARY: Yeah, we thought it was something she always wanted was a college degree, and she was finally able to do it. We were all old enough to take care of us once in a while. We were all in high school. I was in high school at the time. My older brothers were in college. It certainly wasn't a burden on us, not that we couldn't get our own meal or do things like that, so. It was her first opportunity to do it. She would fall asleep at the kitchen table, I remember that, studying. MARYANNE: She'd have her book in front of her and be asleep at the kitchen table. She was doing school plus taking care of the household and the kids and all. She knew it was important, so. INTERVIEWER: What kinds of things can you -- college, was it an option? MARYANNA: Good grades or that sort of thing. ROSE MARY: If we fell below As and Bs, if we got Cs, we were, you know, we had to bring them up. We had to bring our grades up. As and Bs were fine, Cs weren't. They didn't make us crazy about it or anything, but you know, we might have to go and go for some extra help to get that C to a B at least, you know. So yeah, it was always very important that we did very well. She would look at our homework. We were all good students on our own pretty much. On our own we did it, I think. But if we were struggling at any subject she would make sure that we would get extra help and get the grade up. But for the most part we were pretty good on our own. College, yeah, college was just kind of automatically we knew we were going. MARYANNE: As long as we tried, and [unintelligible - 00:25:23] remember getting Bs and Cs, but when you are in grammar school, it's no big deal. But we would try and, like she said, we did pretty well. What I remember though, I guess when I became a teenager, I wanted to earn money and was able to work in the family business, and they sent me to work summers in packaging. And when I 14 experienced working in the packaging department it would be assembly line work, doing the same thing eight hours a day, five days a week, all summer long. I was like, "I'm not gonna do this, I'm going to college." That was my understanding. I wasn't going to stop at high school because I didn't want to work in a factory for the rest of my life. That's kind of what stuck in my mind. And then being the fifth, follow the leader kind of, it just was assumed and I wanted to go. But in retrospect I think if I had waited a year that probably would have been real good, try out different jobs and get direction, but then… INTERVIEWER: Did all of you go to Holy Cross. Did I already ask that question? ROSE MARY: Yes, we all did. INTERVIEWER: How did that… ROSE MARY: That's where they really wanted us to go, and we all just went. INTERVIEWER: Oh, because your father went there, right? ROSE MARY: Right. INTERVIEWER: Because I forgot about that. ROSE MARY: Yeah, he went there. And he's still involved in the college, so. I don't exactly know what he is on, but he's on something. MARYANNE: I think just an alumni; I don't know, like, club or something. ROSE MARY: Right, so. That's where they wanted us to go and… MARYANNE: I think it was just always a backup. I think, you know, they really wanted us to go there, but we had other choices. I don't know if in your situation, but when you got into maybe one or two schools… ROSE MARY: I think that my mother probably didn't want us to go to school in Boston. I think that would have been my choice, but she was a little was a little nervous about Boston. So we ended up at Holy Cross in Worcester, so. It really [unintelligible - 00:27:36] old-fashioned Italian. Right, right. They don't want their daughter going off to the big city. But… INTERVIEWER: Were that many other Italians there?15 ROSE MARY: Actually, no. There weren't. It was mainly Irish Catholics. But all Catholic, but Irish. I think I probably was one of the few 100 percent Italian. MARYANNE: I think I generally -- except maybe this area, that there's not a lot of Italians. ROSE MARY: By the time you get to this generation it is kind of unusual to meet someone all Italian. MARYANNE: There are a lot of French Italians in this area. But, college I don't recall anything unique about being Italian in college. There were not Italian clubs or anything like that. ROSE MARY: There were a few Italians there, but I think the majority weren't. But it really didn't matter, you know. It wasn't a problem. INTERVIEWER: So by that generation… ROSE MARY: I don't think so, no. MARYANNE: It is just having a little bit of Italian in you. ROSE MARY: [Unintelligible - 00:28:40] read the Italian menu in the Italian restaurant a little better, but no, I really -- there was really no difference. INTERVIEWER: Was it important to you? ROSE MARY: Yes, that was probably part of the reason we ended up going there. Religion has always been important. My mother's always wanted us to go to Catholic schools. You know, we started out at Catholic elementary school. Couple years there before we went to public junior high school, just because there was no Catholic junior high school. Otherwise we probably would have ended up in a Catholic junior high at that time. Then we went to a Catholic high school and a Catholic college. My mother's the one that had more to do with our education. Definitely, you know, roles, my mother, the kids in the house, my father's role was earning the money. So yes, [unintelligible - 00:29:28] she wanted… MARYANNE: My mother.16 ROSE MARY: My mother, yeah. Probably not because of Italian, just their personalities. You know… MARYANNE: And then just being home, my dad, I just remember him working all the time. ROSE MARY: Right, dad worked a lot. He was always working. So, mom was home. So mom was the one that took care of the kids. You know, made sure the homework was done. Mom was always involved with educations, whereas dad was busy working. Not that education wasn't important to him… it was, but you know, working full time doesn't leave helping kids with their homework and making sure everything gets done. INTERVIEWER: Oh, why? SPEAKER 1: Maybe it was my. INTERVIEWER: Maybe your parents had different goals. Did the children also -- were there big gender differences growing up? ROSE MARY: I think when we were younger I would feel that -- I have three brothers, and I think the girls always have to do the housework. MARYANNE: Setting the table, clearing the table… ROSE MARY: Setting the table, clearing the table, Saturday morning vacuuming, dusting, and my brothers basically didn't have to do any of that. It was just the way it was with my parents. My mother took care of the house. My father took care the outdoors. My brothers had to take the trash out and mow the lawn. But… MARYANNE: Snow blow. ROSE MARY: Snow blow the drive way. They never really did any work indoors. And yeah, I remember I used to feel that it was unfair because we seemed like we had more work to do than they did. But, I mean, they got -- they were raised that way but now that they're older and they're -- they're not that way at all. They do, you know, housework and everything else, but they were raised 17 definitely for the girls to be trained in doing this and the boys to be doing that. INTERVIEWER: [Unintelligible - 00:31:14]. ROSE MARY: No. I only have one son, and I do have him do some cooking so he learns how to cook and he does some housework so he learns how to do housework. He doesn't do a lot. I mean, typical 14-year-old, right? But I do have him do some things so he'll know how to do things when he has to do them on his own. INTERVIEWER: Were their expectations different? ROSE MARY: No, I don't think so. I think we were all expected to get educated, and it just was around the house, I would say that we were definitely doing the housework. The girls, yeah. MARYANNE: Yeah, I agree with that. INTERVIEWER: What about socializing? Could you go out as much or date as much, or…? ROSE MARY: And my brothers, I think there was a lot more protection for us. We weren't allowed to do as much. MARYANNE: You're older and you remember… ROSE MARY: I was the icebreaker… ROSE MARY My older brothers Abel and Tony doing things and probably, you know, wearing down our parents a little bit, and then, you know, the first son does something and the second son wants to do this. But then when the first daughter comes along, she had [unintelligible - 00:32:29], and then by the time I came along it was like, oh okay, you know, it's okay, Maryanne did that and I can do that. But there weren't as many battles for independence. ROSE MARY: But I think when it was my turn I wasn't allowed to do things my brothers got to do at the same age, so. INTERVIEWER: Then to college. Were you expected to do certain things on the weekend? Did you -- were you expected to come home on weekends?18 MARYANNE: No. No. They never expected us to come home on weekends unless we wanted -- stay there and do whatever we want. Go to the sports events. Go to the parties. Socialize. Be involved in whatever. No, there was no pressure to come home. No, there was no pressure to marry an Italian. But I heard my father say once, "It would be nice to have one of my kids marry an Italian." But there was never any pressure. INTERVIEWER: Did that happen? Are there any Italian spouses? No. ROSE MARY: No. No. Not one. Not even part Italian, I don't think. INTERVIEWER: But did you marry in the same religion? MARYANNE: I think yes. For my mother, especially. Yeah. ROSE MARY: That didn't happen either. Not with everybody. Ed's married to a Catholic. Abel's married to a Catholic. I wasn't married to a Catholic. Three out of five. Not bad. INTERVIEWER: Do you find that important to your children to marry the same faith? ROSE MARY: No. I don't think so. I think what's more important to me is that, you know, something that's extremely different would probably be a little difficult for me just because we didn't -- take Christmas. If my son were to marry somebody that, for example, was Jewish, and didn't celebrate Christmas, and you had [unintelligible - 00:34:27] because a lot of people do. They marry somebody who's Jewish, and then he didn't celebrate Christmas anymore. It would be a little difficult, because you know, we enjoy celebrating [unintelligible - 00:34:37] holidays together, and a lot of them are based on the religion—Christmas, Easter and -- so that would be that be a little hard not to be able to celebrate those things with him anymore. But I would accept it, totally accept it if that's what he wanted, if that's what made him happy. 19 MARYANNE: Yeah. I think the person that they marry and the relationship that they have, you know, [unintelligible - 00:34:59] would react today. [Unintelligible - 00:35:03] family together. ROSE MARY: You know, my [unintelligible - 00:35:09] both my parents, you know, it's important. MARYANNE: I think that they supported us a lot. I know just like we supported each other. My brothers were active in sports, and they, you know, basketball. My brothers were in high school, the whole family would go and watch the games and that would happen frequently. They just did that. So we knew that we were important to them. In college they would drive out to the games and try to go watch the games or the games so they could watch their son or daughter. Family just was normal. INTERVIEWER: Because it didn't all get picked up. Just about your parents going to see the games. MARYANNE: With my brothers, and they would just follow the family. If it was a sporting basketball games or football games, they would drive wherever if it was going to Worcester, they would just go and watch, and they did that in college, junior high school, and grammar school and when the kids were young, the kids would go right along. So we were just together as a family. And it was just -- that was normal life for us was to go and watch the brothers and sisters play basketball. ROSE MARY: Plus they treated us all family, so there wasn't -- the family relations were always important, and we were raised and taught that from a very early age: be good to your brother, be good to your sister. Watch out for your sister, you know, watch out for your little brother, whatever, kind of thing, so. INTERVIEWER: Do you feel that's an Italian-related trait? ROSE MARY: Yes, I think so. I mean, not just Italians. I'm sure there's probably lots of groups that, you know, the family is very important. But 20 yeah, I think there are a lot of families that the family is not important at all. But I don't see that that much in Italian families. I see that the family is there. When someone has a problem everybody supports them and helps them out or whatever. And probably when we were growing up, when we were little, you know, Sundays. Sundays, it was the same routine every Sunday. Get up. Go to church. Go out to lunch after church or go to the grandmothers. And that would be the Sunday. But that's when we were little. Then when we get older, everybody's got their own activities, sports events, whatever. So everybody, once we get older, we didn't really have a special family… MARYANNE: While everyone else in was the country, we used to watch Walt Disney. I remember playing cribbage. I'd learned how to play cribbage with my dad and used to on occasion play blackjack with pennies at the kitchen table and the whole family would do that. It all kind of goes by. I mean, it just goes by in a blur. INTERVIEWER: [Unintelligible - 00:38:07] important to your family? ROSE MARY: Yes. My mother wanted us all to learn to play the piano, right? So it was important that we could read music and play an instrument. INTERVIEWER: I got the impression that you quit, maybe? ROSE MARY: Oh, sure. Like every other kid. Actually, I was [unintelligible - 00:38:27] but that's how you feel when you get older, right? MARYANNE: I taught my daughter that. ROSE MARY: I know. Yeah, you can tell your daughter that. MARYANNE: Yeah, and expose her. She wanted to expose us to different things, and my dad also would as we got older, he'd want to take us to a different restaurant, and [unintelligible - 00:38:42] something unusual. Just -- and have a well-rounded background. And always the one thing and then Maryanne and I, we just left them. But we continued with it to the point where we wanted to. It wasn't like they expected us to perform or the same thing with piano. If we 21 had natural ability, great. But there was some exposure. And, you know, I'm glad about that. INTERVIEWER: How did they make each of you feel special? [Unintelligible - 00:39:19] But, I mean, think of it, five kids. ROSE MARY: We used to all feel special. Gee, how did that happen? Well, I think that if we did something that deserved a compliment, we would get a compliment. I don't think that they ever praised us when we didn't deserve any praise, but they would, you know, say things like better, or I would expect something better from you or something like that. MARYANNE: I can just think of some specifics. Just little compliments that when you get to the age that -- and this would be probably in the mid to late ' 60 where my mother had [unintelligible - 00:40:08] home from school and then I could go run to the post office and then she could just drop me off and I'd run do that and say, "Oh, good little helper." INTERVIEWER: But just like little things like that? ROSE MARY: Right. Yeah, little compliments here and there, you know. I always made my bed in the morning and put all my things away. I'd hear, you know, that you're always as neat as a pin, you know, or things like that, just little -- on everyday kind of activities, every day, everyday things. MARYANNE: Didn't realize when it was happening, but now you think back… ROSE MARY: Right. Right. Exactly. You just have to think about what did they do to make me feel special. INTERVIEWER: Can you think of anything. a big event that stands out in your mind? Just little everyday things that add up over time. What's your hardest experience growing up? ROSE MARY: I'm trying to think, my hardest experience. MARYANNE: I have to get going in a short while because I'm away from work.22 INTERVIEWER: Okay. MARYANNE: Is there something that you wanted to ask specifically? INTERVIEWER: I want to ask about Central Street. How long did you live there? ROSE MARY: I was eight when we moved out. MARYANNE: So that was 1960… ROSE MARY: Seven. August of '67 is when we moved here. I remember we had not moved in. I had my 6th birthday party here before we moved in because we moved in, in August, so. MARYANNE: I remember running around in the backyard at Central Street and my aunt lived over the hill in the backyard, and running over there. I don't remember a whole lot being that age. INTERVIEWER: Italians living around here? ROSE MARY: Yeah. I think at that time there were a lot of Italians in that area. And our aunt, again, lived right behind us. And I had a uncle that lived just a little ways across the street, down the street a little bit. I remember a lot about living on Central Street because I was a little bit older. It wasn't like a heart-wrenching thing to move or anything, it was actually a very tiny little house, and my parents [unintelligible - 00:42:17] one child. When they moved out they had five children. INTERVIEWER: So a small… ROSE MARY: It was a very small ranch, and we were very crowded in there. And I can remember my mother just constantly arranging the furniture. Everything was like it happened all the time to me, but it probably didn't happen that often. Just trying to fit things in, you know, having to move the boys to another bedroom, because now there's three boys, and that's what I remember. So it wasn't -- we really needed a bigger house. So when we moved here, it was amazing. This house is three times bigger than the other one, and we had just one bathroom at that house. And there was five children and two adults living there. 23 So we have four bathrooms here. And I remember the first time I went to the bathroom, I had a hard time deciding where to go, which one to use. It was like I never had a choice before. But it wasn't an upsetting event or anything. It wasn't hard. It was really exciting. It was really exciting to move into a bigger house. Maybe I was nine years old when we moved. But I do remember being very crowded at that house. It was a three-bedroom ranch. One bedroom was used as an office for my father because at that time he was doing a lot of CPA work, so it was really just two bedrooms. MARYANNE: And my parent's bedroom was the living room. You walk in the front door and that was their bedroom. ROSE MARY: And my parents used the living room as their bedroom. And my brothers, for a while, they were out on this addition, which was like a porch but it was like a three-season porch. It was heated, but it was my brother's bedroom for a while and then we rearranged the whole house again, and you know… INTERVIEWER: Maybe we don't remember just the feeling that you had living in that neighborhood compared to this. ROSE MARY: Right. MARYANNE: Maybe that house wasn't even built before. I don't know. ROSE MARY: Yeah. I guess I remember that neighborhood really knowing everybody—mom, the kids. I could go door to door there. In this neighborhood, it took a while for meet people, and I didn't know, I don't even know the young people next door, but I might know the people two doors down or three doors down because they had kids. But in that neighborhood, I can remember back to when she was very little and she started to walk, now she must have been one. I can remember taking her for a walk around the whole 24 neighborhood, going from door to door to door, because I knew all the neighbors and showing them her. MARYANNE: I was her baby. ROSE MARY: She was my baby, right, and she was walking. You probably were a year old because it was summertime, and you were born in August. You were probably just a year because I was probably like three and a half, so. And that's the kind of neighborhood it was. I mean, I knew all the mothers. I knew all the kids. It was very safe. Can you imagine letting a three-and-a-half-year-old take a one-year-old for a walk now? But I did. . MARYANNE: There weren't a lot of houses though, I mean, it was… ROSE MARY: No. MARYANNE: It was Basset Street, which was just Aunt Eva's house. ROSE MARY: Right. MARYANNE: I don't know if you know that area, but with the [unintelligible - 00:45:19] is. INTERVIEWER: Your mother took me a long time ago. MARYANNE: It's a very short street, and then there's Christie Street, which probably at the time there was only about six houses on there. MARYANNE: Yeah, most of the houses are [unintelligible - 00:45:30]. ROSE MARY: Now, it's much further developed. MARYANNE: But still, I would never allow my three-year old out of sight… ROSE MARY: Right. And I was completely out of sight from the house. I mean, you couldn't see where I was from our house was. Yeah, [unintelligible - 00:45:47] in those days, or in that neighborhood. INTERVIEWER: You must have cousins, right? ROSE MARY: Yeah. INTERVIEWER: That are living, that grew up in Leominster in that small neighborhood… ROSE MARY: There's no differences between myself and my cousins and my father, probably the only one in his family that went to college, 25 right, I think? No. There's a big difference in the way, you know, his brothers lived compared to him. But I think their kids, for the most part, have gotten, you know, my cousins have gotten education and jobs, and you know, we're all living about the same. I mean, some people have more, some people have less. There isn't a big difference between myself and my cousins, but there is a difference my parents and their siblings and cousins. INTERVIEWER: How about growing up? MARYANNE: Every kid growing up, we just were playing with our cousins ,and what my dad did and their dad did didn't really -- we used to be able to play hide and seek a lot more, run around in the yard. ROSE MARY: Right. There was no judgment at all. And I don't think we really noticed a difference when we were growing up. It's true that we did, we probably the biggest house, but I don't think we had more than my cousins. We probably had the same amount. We didn't have better clothes or better toys or anything. We had about the same. You know, the kids all had about the same. We didn't have more clothes and more toys because my parents had more, but we probably did live in a bigger house. But kids I don't think noticed that as much. I don't remember noticing any difference. I think that actually my parents are very successful, but when we were growing up, they were building their business and they were building up their [unintelligible - 00:47:30], you know, so I think that a lot of money they had was really tied up in the business. So it never felt like we had a lot of money. I mean, it felt like we had everything we needed. We were perfectly comfortable. We had some luxury items, you know, my family had some luxury items, but I never really felt like we were rich or anything like that. I mean, I don't [unintelligible - 00:47:50]. But I never really felt 26 that, I mean, but the house, yeah, you might say that, you know, we would know that. But I think that a lot of money was always tied up. And probably when we got into our 20s, it seemed like suddenly that they had more money, because I think at that time, the businesses really just boomed, and that's like 20 years ago. But by that time we were already grown, you know, and on our own. Half of us were on our own, at least. Other than we had the big house where we usually the holiday parties were here and everything. Yeah, there was a tennis court. I guess that would make us seem like we had a lot. But it was different in those days, too. I mean, it was just a hard top, but it wasn't -- it wasn't beautifully sealed and painted and striped and fenced in. It wasn't. It was just like a black top. Really, it had a tennis net going across it, but it wasn't as nice then as it is now. We would just ride our bikes on it. We would play chicken. MARYANNE: Chicken, four square. ROSE MARY: Yeah. You had -- we didn't use it for tennis that much. I mean, a little bit but… MARYANNE: When we got older we did. ROSE MARY: Yeah. And then we'd just ride our bikes out there. Yeah. INTERVIEWER: So [unintelligible - 00:49:13] a hard question? MARYANNE: It's really not something that I think about. You know what, I'm just who I am, and I have to think family is important to me. But my husband, who's French, and his family is very close too. So I don't see a difference… SPEAKER 5: Only your kids are too young. They wouldn't even know. ROSE MARY: My son, you know, probably considers himself Italian. He's half Italian, because I'm 100 percent Italian, but the other half is a lot of 27 different things. He says he's half Italian, you know. Plus that we've been to Italy and he has formed a bond with his cousins in Italy. Been there twice, so. He likes his Italian heritage. MARYANNE: I could see that, but first I have my own business and I have friends, so I scramble every day for time. So I would want to take care of both of those things first and as they grow, I can see myself doing some of that, but not to the extent that she does. Traveling -- she's what, 79? But to see them and be part of their lives. ROSE MARY: For me, I probably just see myself, I'd say, would have more time on my hands and do some volunteer work. Probably not to that same extent, 'cause my mother has a lot of energy. But I do see myself doing some things, yeah, definitely. When I have more time. I think that Leominster's very worthwhile. I don't have time to enjoy it, you know. I like the open land that we're trying to preserve through the Open Land of Leominster. I think that's really being developed, and we've really wiped out all our open space. So we're down to our last apple orchard, which at least we've saved. You probably know about Sowan Farms? I'm very glad that we saved that. It was one apple orchard, one apple farm. So I can see myself getting involved in things like that, plus the Historical Society of Leominster does a lot to teach people about Leominster's past, which I guess the city's changing a lot, it's really developing. Something like that. Right now, like I said, I'm totally consumed with work and being a single parent and not just having much time for anything, but as things get easier, my son gets older, I have more time, maybe I can be involved with the Center for Italian Culture. Actually, I love Italy. I've spent some time there and I've traveled back a couple of times. I do speak some Italian, but like I said, I've lost it over 28 the years, but I would love to get it back so that when I go to Italy and visit I can have a little… INTERVIEWER: To have a Center for Italian Culture? ROSE MARY: No, it's preserve history for the future generation. INTERVIEWER: Do you feel that way? MARYANNE: Yeah, I think so. I think it's good. I don't know a whole lot about what's being done, but I think it's good that people will have questions. The next generation, a terrible tragic thing that happened for the whole country. I think there's [unintelligible - 00:52:52] in the paper last night about dollars this anti-terrorism campaign is costing. I have a lot of customers in New York, and they were greatly affected. And everywhere, it touched everyone in the world, something like that happening. ROSE MARY: That thing, I feel, is very heartbreaking to imagine happening. It has changed, probably, my activities a little bit as far as going on vacation this year and getting on a plane. I don't feel it's a very good job of wiping out terrorism. We haven't done it yet completely. MARYANNE: It did make me think about family quite a bit more because I've passed on two opportunities to fly since then, and I weigh what to do, and one would be -- oh, and they were both for business -- but if it was just a decision about going on vacation somewhere, then I look at what my first job is, and it's to stay alive and raise my kids. The business, I'm going to do all that I can by phone and email and websites, and I'm going to avoid traveling until things are better. But then it can change at any time. They might change later, but I don't have a desire to getting in an airplane. ROSE MARY: Plus, actually, my oldest brother lives in New York City and when we first heard the news, of course we didn't know, and it was a while before we could get through on the phone because all of the 29 phone lines were jammed up to find out that he was actually traveling on business that day. MARYANNE: Actually, he traveled the day before, flew To California on the Monday. ROSE MARY: Right. He was nowhere around. He doesn't work in the building, but he does go by that train station, right? He gets off the train there every day. So I mean, the first initial reaction to hear that was, "Is he okay?" And the panic, you know, and then to find out that he's okay, but then to think about all the people that found out that their family members were gone, too. INTERVIEWER: How did you get the idea for the hair accessories? I realize the family owned the plastics business, so… MARYANNE: Well, I worked at Cardinal Comb & Brush, and they made combs, a couple of brushes, and they had some hair accessories. I did a lot of different things there, but I worked in sales and I created a hair accessory product that did quite well, and it sort of opened my eyes, because the hair accessory portion of Cardinal Comb was very small. And after that product did real well, I started thinking, "Oh, I should create other products," and this and that, but the products that I was creating were of a better quality, more upscale, and the combs that Cardinal were making were more -- good-quality but much lower in cost. It just was something -- I didn't think about having my own business, but it just kind of happened. My brother had said, "Oh, why don't you take a hair accessory business and do this and that," and it just worked out. So we talked about it, we figured out what to do and we made the deal. They continued to manufacture the plastic for me, and probably 1994 that the product got started, and at the time there was a product called Topsy-Tail, which was that you make a 30 ponytail and you put this little plastic needle with a loop. That just opened my eyes more. INTERVIEWER: So that wasn't your product… MARYANNE: That wasn't my product, no, but suddenly the whole marketplace was looking at hair accessories as something. So after the product I created did well in '94, we just started talking, and by '95 we had decided to split that portion of the business, and that's when the hair things got started in January of '96. It was called the French Twist kit, and what it did was it combined some really handmade side combs with hairpins in one package, and then on the back gave very detailed instructions and illustrations of how to put your hair into a French Twist. That's really the product that sold in many different markets, and from that I said, "Oh wow. You should keep doing more." INTERVIEWER: About the products, called, are they Good Hair Days? MARYANNE: The name Good Hair Days is on all the packaging, and there's another brand called Grip-Tuth, which are these handmade combs I'm talking about. So there's always Good Hair Days on the card, but in some products there's Grip-Tuth as well. Some of the products are sold without the name; they're just plastic parts that are sold in the bridal industry or the craft industry by the designers. They're taking the combs and putting them… INTERVIEWER: Right now, who owns the company? MARYANNE: Well, I'm the President of the company. I do the sales and marketing of our new products. Whatever it takes. Production -- my husband now is doing production, shipping, all the day-to-day paperwork you know. Payables, receivables. And we have someone who works part-time for us. I know, we have a running joke. It's like, "So, good morning! How was your weekend?" But we get along. We're probably -- few. We get along, we laugh with each other. 31 We actually value the time with our kids. I was lucky I was able to bring my daughter into the office and take care of her, and she didn't start daycare until she was 15 months. I would take care of her, work the phones. I had a playpen set up in the office. She'd fall asleep, take a nap, I'd run out and do shipping or whatever needed doing. So that's very fortunate; may people have to put their kids in daycare. I kind of set up home, also, to work, so I was able to put time in the office and time at home. Technology today is great because you get messages, you get paged; you can take care of business on your own hours and in between diaper changes. INTERVIEWER: You both live in Leominster? ROSE MARY: I live on the other side, right neat Lancaster. MARYANNE: I live probably, like, a mile, two miles, a mile and a half or so down this way. I think what I've gotten from him, if that answers the question, is they both have a very strong work ethic. What I remember about my dad is that he was always leaving, going to work on Saturday mornings. It was like a, "Where are you going?" kind of thing, and just doing what it takes. And Mom would do everything it took in the house so they wouldn't need to do anything, and they worked and take care of -- hardworking, and that would be one thing I want to carry on. ROSE MARY: Both had a lot of integrity. Honesty, integrity. MARYANNE: And work integrity. Honesty. That sort of thing. INTERVIEWER: Tell me about… MARYANNE: I couldn't even think of what you asked to begin with. INTERVIEWER: Well, thank you very much. ROSE MARY: Okay, you're more than welcome. INTERVIEWER: It's hard to do./AT/pa/cs/mfb/es

Issue 21.2 of the Review for Religious, 1962. ; FRANCIS J. WEBER The Relics of Christ The spiritual value of a relic is directly proportional to the devotion it inspires in those who venerate it. Apart from this spiritual significance, the relic is merely a his-torical curiosity. It may or may not be of archaeological value to the museums of the world. The official attitude of the Church regarding individual relics is one of extreme reserve. In most cases, the Church prudently withholds definitive judgment on even the most demonstrably ancient relics. In fact, while reluctant to proclaim the authenticity of a particular reli.c, the Church has not infrequently withdrawn from public Veneration relics whose claims were found to be dubious or spurious. In recent memory, this has happened in the case of "St. Philomena," center of a devoted cult for more than a cen-tury, though she had never been formally canonized and nothing actually was known of her life. Despite the many miracles attributed to the relics of this supposed second century martyr, unearthed from a catacomb in 1802, mod-ern research shed doubt on the authenticity of the re-mains. It should be noted that the decree of the Sacred Congre-gation of Rites in 1961 dropping the feast of St. Philomena from the liturgical calendar did not touch on the validity of the miracles attributed to her intercession. They may well have been genuine miracles performed by God be-cause of the faith and devotion of those who prayed for them. The oldest and most cherished of Christian. relics nat-urally are those reputed to have been connected with the holy person of Jesus Christ Himself. Those few that are still extant, for the most part, have sufficient historical documentation to merit scholarly attention. It must be borne in mind that the honor and veneration given to these objects is directed primarily to Christ. Hence, in, some cases where documentation establishes only doubtful authenticity, the Church is certainly jus-tified in remaining silent, if it is understood that in so doing the Church is not giving positive approval and if 4, 4. Francis J. Weber, a dPiorcieesste o of ft hLeo As rAchn-- geles, is presently assigned to Catholic University, Wash-ington 17, D.C. VOLUME 21, 1962 79 4. 4. Francis ~. Weber REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 80 greater honor and glory are thereby rendered to Almighty God. Our approach to this obscure and sometimes contro-versial subject is that of the historian, who presents only the facts, leaving conclusions to the reader, The True Cross The Cross on which our Savior died has been tradi-tionally the most precious of all Christian relics. Tiny splinters of the True Cross have been so widely distributed that, in the words of St. Cyril, "the whole inhabited earth is full of relics from the wood of the Cross." St. Helena is credited with discovery of the True Cro:;s in 327 A.D.1 Early testimony of the fathers, among them Ambrose, Jerome, Sozomen, and Theodoret, recounts this marvelous event in copious detail. The Cross was found in an abandoned cistern near Mount Calvary. Identifica-tion as the True Cross, according to St. Ambrose, was easy enough since the titulus was still affixed. To commemo-rate this great occasion, St. Helena orderd a magnificent basilica to be erected over the H61y Sepulchre. She gave it the name of St. Constantius in honor of her son, the Roman emperor. When Helena returned to Rome, the relics were placed in the Sessorian Basilica, Santa Croce in Gerusalemme. A substantial segment, of the. Cross-was left in Jerusalem where it annually attracted thousands of devout pilgrims. It was captured in the seventh century by Khosru II, the Persian conqueror. When the holy relic was returned by Heraclius in 628, the feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross was instituted. The Jerusalem relic was divided many times. When certain of these fragments fell into the hands of the Mohammedans, the Crusades were inspired to restore them. An extensive and intensive study of the True Cross was made and published in 1870 by Rohault de Fleury. After examination of all extant fragments claimed to be from the True Cross, he drew up a minute catalogue of them, with precise weights and measurements. His findings proved that if all known pieces of the True Cross were put together, they would consitute less than one-third of the original Cross. This effectively silenced skeptics who had scoffed that the total of supposed fragments was bigger than the Cross itself. De Fleury's calculations2 were based on a cross of pine wood weighing an estimated 75 kilograms. The volume of 1 Louis de Combres, The Finding of the True Cross (London: Trubner, 1907). = Charles Rohault de Fleury, Mdraoire sur les instruments de la Passion (Paris: Lesort, 1870), pp. 97-179. this. cross would have been approximately 178 million cubic millimeters. Known volume of the existing relics does not exceed ,t0 million cubic millimeters. 0 Crux ave, spes unica! The Title of the Cross There are many fanciful legen~ls associated with the dis-covery of the True Cross by St. Helena. The manner of distinguishing the True Cross of Christ .from those of the two thieves is usually related with colorful if not his-torically accurate circumstances. However, St. Ambrose testifies there was no problem in identifying the True Cross as the titulus or title-piece was still intact. Other writers corroborate this account, notably Sts. Cyrils and Jerome. As has been the case with so many holy relics, the titulus was divided into seveial pieces. The Diary of Etheria lo-cates a piece of the titulus in Jerusalem in 380 A.D, Helena undoubtedly brought a part of the title back to Rome with her. Regrettably, there is no further documentation avail-able on the fate of the Jerusalem relic, For some reason, very likely to protect it from invaders, the Roman relic seems to.have been walled up in an arch of Santa Croce by Placidus Valentinian III in the fifth century. In the twelfth century it was accidentally un-earthed by Gherardo Caccianemici, titular cardinal and later Pope Lucius II. The future pontiff placed his seal on the reliquary and replaced it in its hiding place. In 1492 Cardinal Mendoza of Toledo rediscovered the relic which he immediately presented to the then Holy Father, Innocent VIII. A papal bull, Admirabile Sacra-mentum, was issued, after which the titulus was exposed for public veneration in Santa Croce. The title-piece is of wood, about nine by five inches in size, and comprises two-and-one-half lines of faded in-scription. Hebrew, Greek and Latin characters are dis-cernible, all of which axe printed in reverse, a practice common with the Romans of the time of Christ. The Shroud of Turin It is recorded in Chapter 27 of St. Matthew how Joseph. of Arimathea wrapped the body of Jesus in a "dean linen cloth." No further mention of this funeral shroud appears in Christian literature until the time of St. Nino4 (d. ~38), who relates how Peter removed the shroud from the tomb shortly after the Resurrection. The fourteenth century Byzantine historian, Nicephorus Callista, tells how this 8Philip Gonnet, De Sancti Cyrilli Hiersolymitani Catechismt~ (Paris: 1876). ¯ Edward Wuenschel, C.Ss.R.0 Sell-Portrait oI Christ (Esopus, New York: Holy Shroud Guild, 1954). ÷ ÷ ÷ Relics ot Christ VOLUME 21, 1962 81 4. Francis $. Weber REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Holy Shroud, soaked with the blood of Christ and bearing an image of His holy face, found its way to Constantino-. pie: "Pulcheria, Empress of the East, having built a basil-ica. at Blachernes in 436, piously deposited there the fu. neral linens of Our Savior, which had just been rediscov-. ered and which the Empress Eudoxia had sent to her." Eyewitnesses to the presence of the Holy Shroud at Con-stantinople are recorded in the Annals of 631, 640, 749, 1157 and 1171 A.D. During the Fourth Crusade, the Holy Shroud was sur. rendered in recompense to Otho de la Roche, Duke of Athens and Sparta. The Duke in 1204 sent the prized relic to his father in France. Soon after, it came into possession of the Bishop of Besan~on. A fire caused minor damage to the shroud in 1349. Later that same year, it was stolen from its case in Besan~on Cathedral and given to King Philip IV who in turn gave it to Geoffrey, Count of Char., ney and Lord of Lirey. There is documentary evidence ¯ that it was at Lirey in 1360. During the Hundred Years War, the Holy Shroud wa:; handed over by Geoffrey's granddaughter to the House of Savoy for safekeeping. In 1454, Pope Sixtus IV directed the Duke of Savoy, Louis I, to build a shrine for the shroud at his Chambery residence. During the troubled war years of the sixteenth century, the Holy Shroud was moved from town to town in France. It narrowly missed being destroyed a second time by fire in 1532, and in fact its corners were noticeably singed. At the request of the aged Charles Borromeo, the shroud in 1578 was brought to Turin where it has re-mained for the past four hundred years. It is presently preserved in the black marble chapel specially built for it behind the city's beautiful fifteenth century cathedral. Several pronouncements by the Holy See leave litth: doubt regarding the Church's official attitude toward the Turin Shroud. An Office and a Mass were formally ap-proved by Pope Julius II in the bull Romanus Ponti[ex issued in 1506. Sixtus IV had previously stated that in thbl Holy Shroud "men may look upon the true blood and portrait of Jesus Christ Himself." A remarkable discovery was made in .1898, when a pho-tograph of the Turin Shroud revealed the faint, blurred image on the ancient linen to be an actual "negative" produced by vapors from a human body covered witll spices. The negative of the modern photo~a negative of a negative, thus producing a positive--offered a far more pronounced picture of a human face than was previously recognizable. ChemiCally, this "vapograph" was caused by the am-moniacal emanations from the surface of the body after an unusually violent death. It has been proved experimen-tally that these vapors are capable of producing a deep reddish brown stain which would vary in intensity with the distance from a cloth soaked with oil and aloes. Hence the image of Christ's face on the shroud is a natural nega-tive. This modern evidence, together with the identification of human bloodstains, prompted Dr. Paul Vignon to read a brilliant paper before the Acaddmie des Sciences, in which he suggested that any explanation denying the authenticity of the Turin Shroud would be scientifically inaccurate. It might also be mentioned that, the impression on the shroud of the Grown of Thorns is in perfect conformity with the "helmet type" of crown displayed at Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris. Further, the nail wounds are not in the palms of the hands but in the wrists. It has been re-alized only in our own times that this was a physical neces-sity, for nails in the palms .of the hands would not have been able to sustain the weight of a human body. One of the major opponents and critics of the Turin Shroud was the anti-pope Clement VII, first of the Avig-non Pretenders. His opposition apparently stemmed from a vague charge made by the Bishop of Troyes that the shroud was the work of a local craftsman skilled in the subtle art of simulating antique handiwork. Other shrouds, thirty in all, each purporting to be the genuine article, have turned up through the centuries. Most notable are thosestill preserved at Besan~on, Ca-douin, and Champiegne. These shrouds likewise bear im-pressions alleged to be those of Christ's face and body. However, the preponderance of ,historical evidence seems to leave no doubt that among all the claimants, only the Shroud of Turin has a valid pretension to au-thenticity. The Pillar of the Scourging The column of the Praetorium to which Christ was bound during His scourging was discovered in the For-tress of Antonia in 373 A.D., according to a chronicle penned by St. Ephrem. St. Paulinus of Nola,5 writing after 409, refers to several relics of the Passion, among them "the pillar at which He was scourged." Philip of Brosserius saw the pillar in the Church of the Holy Se-pulchre in 1285. Some time before the end of the four-teenth century it was broken and one part was sent to Constantinople. An interesting Christian" tradition, dating back to .the See Letter 310f Paulinus. ÷ ÷ ÷ Relics o] Christ VOLUME 21, 1962 83 ÷ ÷ ÷ F~ancis $. Webe~ REVIEW I:OR REI.I~IOUS 84 fourth century, holds that Christ was actually scourged twice. St. John Chrysostom tells us this second flagellation took place at the house of Caiaphas after the mock trial. This tradition finds prominent mention in early chroni-cles. The pillar used for the second scourging was reserved in the Church of Mount Sion, the Cenacle, where St. Jerome reported he saw it. During the Persian invasion, it too seems to have been broken into several pieces. The portion left at the Cenacle was lost in 1537. The other part was returned to a church subsequently erected on the sit~ of the house of Caiaphas. Here it was venerated until the fourteenth century, when it completely disappeared. In 1222 A.D., Giovanni Cardinal Colonna, papal envoy to the Orient, returned to Rome with a fragment of the Pillar of the Scourging, apparently given him by the Sara-cens. He enshrined it in his titular church of St. Praxedes, where it may be seen today. The Roman pillar is of mar-ble, about two feet four inches high. It is.probably one of the parts of the Praetorian column. Its counterpart in Jerusalem is of a different material and may have formed the lower part of the pillar. The Holy Stairs Among the many treasures brought back from the Holy Land by St. Helena was the marble staircase from the palace of Pontius Pilate in Jerusalem. It is still extant,e The stone steps number twenty-eight and are said. to have been sanctified by the feet of Christ himself when He as-cended this stairway at the Praetorium. The stairway, reconstructed in Rome, originally formed part of the old Lateran Palace, leading into a chapel dedi-cated to St. Sylvester. When the Lateran Palace was torn down by Pope Sixtus V in 1589, the stairs were moved to their present location. Today the Scala Sancta constitutes the entranceway to the Holy of Holies~ an old private papal chapelY In its present site, the Scala Sancta is flanked by additional stair-wells on either side. Traditionally the Holy Stairs are ascended only on one's knees. The last pope to ascend the stairway in this fashion was Plus IX on the eve of his exile from Rome in 1870. Pope St. Pius X decreed a plenary indulgence for those who devoutly ascend the Scala Sancta on their knees as testimony of their love for Christ. Replicas of the Scala Sancta have been erected at Lourdes and other centers of pilgrimage. e Herbert Thursfon, The Holy Year o] Jubilee (Westminster: New-man, 1949). ~ Philippe Lauer, Le trdsor de Sancta Sanctorum (Paris: Leroux, t~o~). The Soldier's Lance Mention is made of the soldier's lance in Chapter 19 of St. John. In his account of the Savior's death, St. John re-lates that "one of the soldiers opened His side with a spear . " The first extra-Biblical.~mention of~,this relic seems to be by Anthony of P~efiZ~, who wrot~'~a~;he saw the Crown of Thorns and "the lance with which He was struck in the side," in the Basilica of Mount Sion.s A miniature of the renowned Syriac manuscript, illu-minated by Rabulas.in 586, assigns the name Longinus to the soldier whose lance pierced the crucified Christ. Gas-siodorus and Gregory of Tours speak of a spear venerated at Jerusalem, which was thought to be identical with that mentioned in Scripture. After the fall of Jerusalem in 615 A.D., several of the major relics of the Passion fell into the hands of the Per-sians. The Chronicon Paschale relates that a piece of the soldier's lance came into the possession of Nicetas, who enclosed it in an icon and presented it to Santa Sophia in Constantinople. In 1241 the Holy Lance was given to King St. Louis for Sainte Chapelle in Paris. No trace of this part of the lance has been found since it was lost during the French Revolu-tion, some time after its removal to the Bibliothkque Na-tionale. The second and larger part of the shaft of the soldier's iance was reported seen by Arculpus in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem about 670 A.D. Later it was taken to Constantinople, where Sir John Mandeville writes about it. It was sent to Pope Innocent VIII in 1492 in return for favors shown to the captured Zizin, brother of Sultan Bajazet. At request of the French hierarchy, during the pontifi-cate of Benedict XIV an investigation was conducted to ascertain the .relation, if any, between the two relics, one at Paris, the other at Rome. A papal brief, issued after the inquiry, concluded that both relics were originally parts of the same shaft. Several other supposedly genuine Ho!y Lances are pre-served in various treasuries of Europe, but none of the others offers a valid claim to authenticity. Even the story told by William of Malmesbury about the Holy Lance given to King Athelstan of England is historically in-accurate. Since the tragic loss of ihe Paris relic, only the Roman lance remains. It is exposed each year for veneration dur-ing Holy Week by the Archpriest of St. Peter's Basilica. 8 Francois Martin, Reliques de la Passion (Paris: Lethielleux, 1897). 4- 4- 4- Relics of Christ VOLUME 21, 1962 85 + + + F~ancis ~. Webe~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 86 Veronica's Veil According to the historian Eusebius in his commentary on the Legend of Abgar and according to remarks con-tained in the apocryphal work Mors Pilati, several au-thentic portraits of Jesus Christ were made at various times during His lifetime. The oldest and most authenticated of these images has been known to Romans for centuries as the Vera Icon or Veil of Veronica. So highly has this image been held in Roman esteem, that a Mass celebrating it was composed and inserted into at least one of the early Augsburg Missals.9 There is no reference in Scripture to a woman offering her veil to Christ during His Sacred Passion. But it is highly plausible that there was such a compassionate soul among those who followed Christ on His way to Mount Calvary. The incident itself is undoubtedly worthy of some credibility, since it has found its expression since very early times in the Christian devotion of the Stations of the Cross. Apparently the holy woman in question, known in pious legend only as Veronica, found her way to Rome, where she presented her Vera Icon---True Picture--to Pope Clement I. The veil, ostensibly bearing the image of the suffering Jesus miraculously pressed into it, was vener-ated in several places until the pontificate of John VII who had it enclosed in an ornate reliquary. During the ensuing centuries, the Holy See has exhibited particular solicitude for this precious relic. It had been reserved to the Pope's own chapel, St. Peter's Basilica, where it is ex, posed briefly during Holy Week for veneration by the faithful. The Holy Grail A whole cycle of romantic legends has been woven about the theme of the Holy Grail,1° but the legendary quests, inspiring though they may be, add nothing to the few slim historical facts available. Of the two notable "pretenders" to genuine Grailship, one alone merits se-rious consideration. And while tl~e chalice displayed at Valencia is not generally accepted as genuine by histo-rians, its proponents present a tolerable case in its behalf. An account by Bishop Siuri of Cordoba relates that the chalice used by Christ at the Last Supper was brought to~ Rome by St. Peter soon after the death of Mary. It was used frequently at Papal Masses until the pontificate of Sixtus II. During the persecutions of Valerian, St. Lawrence sent the chalice to his native Huesca in the northern part of o Sainte Veronique, apostre de l'Aquitaine (Toulouse: 1877). a0 Nutt, Studies o[ the Holy Grail (London: 1888). the Spanish peninsula where the Holy Grail remained until 713 when it was removed to San Juan de la Pena for protective custody during the Moslem invasion. A deed of exchange, dated September 26, 1399, testifies that King Martin acquired the Holy Grail for his private chapel in the Palace of the Aljaferia. About 1424 .the chalice was moved to Valencia by King Alfonso V. The chalice has remained at Valencia since the fifteenth cen-tury except for a brief period during the Spanish Civil War when part of the cathedral was burned by the Com-munists. It was restored to its chapel in the Metropolitan Cathedral at Valencia by the Franco government in 1937. Artistically, the Holy Grail is Corinthian in styling,ix made of agate or Oriental carnelian. The handles on ei-ther side are common appurtenances for drinking vessels of its period. The costly pearls, rubies, and emeralds were added much later. The Crown of Thorns St. Paulinus of Nola, writing early in the fifth century, is the first of the chroniclers to mention specifically "the thorns with which Our Lord was crowned." Other early writers allude apparently to this relic of the Passion, but their comments are vague and inconclusive. Writing about 570, Cassiodorus speaks of "the thorny crown, which was set upon the head of our Redeemer in order that all the thorns of the world might be gathered together and broken." The pilgrimage of the monk Ber-nard establishes that the Crown Of Thorns was still at Mount Sion in 870. According to fairly recent studies, the whole crown was transferred to Byzantium about 1063, although many ot the thorns must have been removed at an earlier date. The Latin Emperor of Constantinople, Baldwin II, offered the Crown of Thorns to St. Louis in 1238. After lengthy ne-gotiations with the Venetians, the r(lic was taken to Paris and placed in the newly built Sainte Chapelle where it remained an object of national devotion until the French Revolution. For security, the crown was placed in the BibliothOque Nationale during the bloody days of the upheaval. In 1806, it was restored to Notre Dame Cathedral. It was en-shrined in its present rock crystal reliquary in 1896. All that is left to be seen today is the circlet of rushes, devoid of any thorns. What remained of the original sixty or seventy thorns were apparently removed by St. Louis and deposited in separate reliquaries. The king and his successors distributed the thorns until nothing remained at Paris but the circlet. The Holy Chalice o/the Last Supper (Valencia: 1958). 4. 4. + Relics o] Christ VOLUME 21, 1962 Francis J. Weber REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 88 Reportedly there are more than 700 "holy thorns" scat-tered around the world. But only those traceable to St. Louis, to one of the emperors, or to St. Helena are genu-ine. Such authentic thorns aCe at Cluny, St. Praxedes in Rome, Santa Croce, and at Aachen, to mention but a few. The Nails There seems to be little agreement among Biblical scholars on the number of nails used to fasten our Blessed Lord to His Cross. Religious art of the early Middle Ages almost unanimously depicts the crucified Savior with four nails~ In the thirteenth century, however, it became in-creasingly common to represent the feet of Christ as placed one over the other and pierced with a single nail. Either of these methods is compatible with the informa-tion we have about the punishment of crucifixion as practiced by the Romans. The earliest authors, among them St. Ambrose, speak only of two nails.12 And it is a point of interest that the two oldest known representations of the Crucifixion, the carved door of Santa Sabina in Rome and the Ivory Panel in the British Museum, show no signs of nails in the feet. The most commonly accepted opinion is that there were three nails that actually touched the body of Christ. This is borne out by the evidence of the Shroud of Turin. In addition, there were probably another three nails used for the titulus, the seat block, and the foot rest. St. Ambrose and St. Jerome speak of the discovery of the nails in Jerusalem by Constantine's mother, St. Hel-ena, in the third century. Sozomen notes in passing that St. Helena had no trouble identifying the nails. One of the nails was fashioned into an imperial diadem for the emperor. This Iron Crown of Lombardy is now at Manza. Another nail was made into a bit for the imperial horse. This relic is believed to be the same as the one at Carpentas. A third nail was venerated for many years in Jerusalem before being moved to Rome's Santa Croce by Pope Gregory the Great. Several European treasuries claim to possess one or more of the true nails, but their, authenticity is clouded with the passage of time. Most of the confusion regarding the thirty or more known spurious nails can be traced to the well-intentioned Charles Borromeo who had reproduc-tions made of the nails and gave them out as memorials of the Passion. Conclusion These, then, are the more commonly accepted relics as-sociated with the holy person of Jesus Christ, our Savior. u De Combres, op. cir. If they have served to increase devotion to Almighty God, they have fulfilled their noble purpose. A saintly priest was once heard to exclaim: "Our Savior's greatest bequest to His children was not a treasury filled with mere material relics, but a golden tabernacle in which He Himself resides to be our fo6d~f6r all ~tei'nit~.!: 4. Relics ot Christ VOLIJME 21, ~962 89 EDWARD J. STOKES, S.J. Examination of Conscience for Local Superiors ÷ Edward J. Stokes, S.J., is Professor o[ Canon Law at St. Mary of the Lake Seminary, Munde-lein, Illinois. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 90 In the summer of 1961 Father Edward J. Stokes, s.J.0 was asked to conduct the annual retreat for a group of local superiors. One of the projects he asked them to do during the retreat was to compose on the basis of their own experience an examination of conscience to be used by local superiors at the time of the monthly recollection, the annual retreat, or at any other suitable time. The ques-tions submitted by this group of local superiors were syn-thethized by Father Stokes who then submitted them to the REvmw. The questions were further revised by Father John E. Becket, S.J., of the editorial staff of the REw~w; the final version of them is given in the following pages. Readers, whether superiors or subjects, who have ideas for the improvement of this examination of conscience either by way of addition, deletion, or emendation are urged to submit their views to the Rzwvw. If enough of such improvements are received, a newly revised version of the examination of conscience for local superiors will be published in a later issue of the R~viEw. Personal Religious Li[e 1. Do I strive to come closer to Christ by leading the life of union and interior peace with Him? Do I do everything in, with, and for Christ? 2. Am I afraid of sanctity because of the demands that it will make on me? 3. Have I forgotten that if I live better, I will pray bet-ter, and that if I pray better, I will live better? 4. Am I firmly convinced of our Lord's words: If you love me, my Father will love you and we will come to you and make our abode with you? 5. Am I convinced that this office of superior, when ful-filled to the best of my ability, is a source of sanctification for me? 6. To be a superior means to carry a cross. How often do I thank our Lord for the privilege of suffering with Him? 7. Am I a superior truly aware of my ownnothingness? 8. When I suffer discouragement, is it because I have not succeeded in doing God's will or because I have not succeeded in pleasing men? ~-,, . ~ °~' ~ 9. Am I deeply convinced that if I have done my best to fulfill God's will, I have succeeded? 10. Do I accept as personal any recognition, privilege, or service accorded me by reason of my office as superior? 11. How often do I make a Holy Hour in petition for the solution of a problem or to obtain a special grace for my fellow religious or myself? Ever a Holy Hour of thanks-giving? 12. Do I make the Sacred Heart of Jesus the King and Center of our religious house and Mary its Queen? 13. Do I take St. Joseph as the advocate and the pro-tector of the interior life of each one dwelling in our house? Personal Recollection and Prayer 14. Am I convinced that recollection is an absolute ne-cessity for any progress in the life of prayer? 15. Is my spirit of recollection such that it provides an atmosphere conducive to prayer? 16. How do I prepare the points of meditation in the evening? 17. What special meditation has drawn me closer to Christ?_ 18. Do I sometimes excuse myself from my prayers by telling myself that this or that duty must take first place? 19. Have I given full time. to my prayers or have I hur-ried through them in order to get to my other work? 20. Does the demand for great activity cause distractions in my prayers or perhaps lead me to neglect prayer; or does it rather make me realize my dependence on God? 21. Have I said common vocal prayers reverently and not annoyed others by my haste? 22. Am I observant of recollection immediately after breakfast? 23. Do I make a special effort to keep recollected on the days when it seems especially impossible? 24. Do I ever revert to God's presence in me throughout the day, to adore Him, thank Him, love Him, speak to Him about the needs of soul and body, my own, and those of my fellow religious? Confession 25. Do I make it a point to confess my added responsi-bility by reason of my office when I confess criticism of su-periors or priests? ÷ ÷ ÷ local Superiors VOLUME 21, 1962 91 4, 4, E. ]. Stokes, $.1. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 92 26. Do I make it a point to confess my added respons.i-bility as a superior when I confess failure to exercise ju:~- tice or charity in dealing with my.fell0w religioug? 27. Do I take advantage of my weekly confessions to re-ceive spiritdal direction? 28. Have my confessions been hurried due to an in-efficient planning of my time? Particular Examen 29. Is my particular examen specific? 30. Do I make a tie-in of retreat resolutions, the particu-lar examen, and weekly confession? 31. Do I make a daily examination of the motives that govern my external life? 32. Do I make my particular examen a vital part of my day as a religious? Mortification 33. Do I realize that my chief mortification is to tie found in the justice and the charity of my dealings with others? 34. Am I willing to perform one interior and one exte-rior act of mortification each day in order to obtain the blessing of our Lord on my community? Charity 35. Is love for others the outstanding virtue in my life? 36. Have I deliberately practised acting towards Christ in each person I meet? 37. Do I appreciate the importance of my personal charity to this community as a cell of the Mystical Body? Faith 38. Are the mysteries of Christianity the basis of my re-ligious life? 39. Have I made the connection between these mys-teries and the Rule, or have I let concern with the Rule obscure my reliance on broader Christian principles? Hope 40. Am I aware of the need for Christ's help in sanctify-ing myself by governing others? 41. Do I realize that Christ is able to utilize my faults in sanctifying others? Principles of Government 42. Do I realize that the most exalted duty of a su-perior is care for the spiritual life of his subjects? 43. Do I seek to serve God by serving my fellow re-ligious always and everywhere? 44. Do I pray regularly for the spiritual well-being and growth of those in my house? 45. Do I try to help each religious to develop a deep inferior life by my words and by my example? 46. Do I give my fellow religious an example of the love of regularity? . 47. Do I try to help my fellow religious develop a ready and loving acceptance of God's holy will by the example of my own acceptance of it in all my difficulties, trials, and failures as well as in my joys and success? 48. Do I realize and am I firmly convinced that seeing, accepting, and willing all that God wills for me in every circumstance of my life is the essence of sanctity; and do I teach my fellow religious this? 49. Am I trying to establish in my fellow 'religious a sense of the Mystical Body so that they are able to com-municate spiritually one with another? 50. Do I look for Christ in the problem religious? in the impudent child in the classroom? Do I see Him looking at me through the eyes of all my charges, seeking my love and devotion? 51. How often have I passed a fellow religious in the hall without noticing and greeting him? 52. In making use of the aspiration, "Praise be to Jesus Christ" during the periods of recollection, do I really try to see Christ present in that person?' 53. Did I personally visit at least one sick person of the parish or community, or delegate a religious to do so? 54. Have I in any way, by actions or words, shown a mere toleration for lay persons associated with our work? Or have I accepted them as allies in our work? Community Exercises 55. Do I faithfully observe the daily order? 56. Do I realize that as superior I set the tone and the spirit of the house, in recollection, cheerfulness, peace, hospitality? 57. Do I let human respect interfere with the duty I have as superior to insist on charity and the observance of the rules in my community? 58. Do I miss or am I late for spiritual exercises unless for a grave reason? 59. What community exercises have I missed in the past month? My reasons? Did I make them up at another time, or did I let them go through neglect or carelessness? 60. What can be done to make the chapter of faults more effective? 61. Do I create a family spirit? 62. Is my recreation self-centered? Do I do what I want and not talk or .do too much of the talking? Local Superiors VOLUME 21, 1962 95 ]. Stokes, FOR R~:LIGIOUS 94 63. Do I endeavor to make community recreation an exercise of wholesome family spirit? 64. Is my house truly a religious house or does it have the impersonality of a modern railroad station? Personal Qualities 65. Am I even-tempered? 66. Do I show true joy in my work? 67. Have I betrayed immaturity and lack of courage by disproportionate manifestations of disappointment and discouragement? 68. Do I allow my feelings to regulate my actions? 69. Do I have a good sense of humor? 70. How much self-pity does my countenance mirror when things go wrong? 71. Am I approachable? 72. Do I try, as far as possible, to treat all my fellow re-ligious in the same way--not showing any partiality or favoritism? Have I excluded any or passed them over iu the sharing of responsibility or favors? Are the same few always near me? 73. Do I treat as sacred anything that a fellow religious tells me in confidence? 74. How many times in the past month have I been im-patient with my fellow religious? 75. How do I act or react when I know that one of my fellow religious has offended me? Do I~take it in a Christ:- like way or do I hold-a grudge? Do I consider violations of rule as offenses against me? 76. Do I as superior always show exterior peace, calm, and happiness? I must do this if I am going to be the un-derstanding, religious superior that I should be. 77. In the presence of outsiders do I always show great loyalty to each and every member of my community? 78, Am I as reserved as I should be while visiting in the parlor? 79. Am I kind to all lay people, regardless of how much they can, orhave helped financially or otherwise--look-ing to the good of their souls first and foremost? Government 80. Do I run a disorganized house so that my subjects tend to say: "We never know what we are going to do next"? 81. Do I get all the facts before I make a decision? 82. Do I hesitate in making the decisions that I must as superior? Do I harm my fellow religious by my habit of procrastination? 83. Am I under someone's influence in the decisions that I make, an older religious or a former superior? 84. Do I contradict my orders, thus making it difficult to know what is my will? 85. Am I available to my fellow religious? 86. Am I open to suggestions? 87. Do I delegate responsibility and do I trust those to whom I have delegated it? If a duty is not being done as I would, do I give it to someone else or take over myself rather than try to help? Do I show interest without in-terfering? 88. Do I give authority as well as responsibility to re-ligious when I give them a job? 89. Am I a politician in dealing with my fellow religious instead of a Christlike superior? 90. Am I unnecessarily secretive in trivial matters, keep-ing the community guessing? Do I not see that this will cause bad feelings? 91. Do I talk uncharitably or show displeasure to one of my subjects about another subject in the house? 92. Should I not close my eyes to many insignificant petty things? Should I not use tact and by my example bring it about that these failings and imperfections will vanish--al'though perhaps not totally? 93. How have I controlled the conversation at table? Was I alert always to see to it that it never became un-charitable or critical, especially regarding students? 94. Do I initiate conversation regarding worthwhile reading? 95. Do I give the required instruction time to the young religious? Do I conscientiously prepare these instructions? 96. Do I complain about fnoney? Am I overly anxious regarding finances? 97. What is my attitude toward the suggestions, deci-sions, or orders of extern superiors in the institution in which our community works? Fellow Religious 98. Do I as superior treat my subjedts as mature, dedi-cated persons? 99. Do I trust my fellow religious and have confidence in them and show them that I do by the way I treat them? 100. Do I correct all when only one needs the correc-tion? Do I not see that this causes much criticism and irritated discussion? 101. Do all the members of the community feel that they belong and are an important part of the whole? 102. Do I give my fellow religious encouragement and show them gratitude for the good work that they are doing? A pat on the back does not cost much but it means a great deal especially to those inclined to get discouraged at times. 103. Have I within the last month made it a point to 4. Local Superiors VOLUME 21, 1962 95 .÷ ÷ ÷ E. ]. Stokes, .S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 96 compliment or praise or show attention, at least in some small way, to each religious in my charge? 104. Has each of my subjects received some word of praise (not flattery) from me recently? 105. Do I encourage group discussions so that all the community can express themselves? Do I see that such discussions are well-prepared and stimulating? 106. Do I see to it that the rest of the community share,,i in the rich contributions that some of its members can give, those, for example, who have had special oppor-tunities for studies? 107. Do I seek to serve God by serving my fellow re-ligious always and everywhere? 108. Do I show concern for the trials and crosses of my fellow religious? 109. How often do I check and consider the welfare of ¯ each of my subjects--spiritual and physical? 110. Is understanding the essence of my charity? Do I try to put myself in the subject's place and realize his emotions, attitudes, and difficulties--or is my charity based solely on my own attitude and outlook on life? He might not always want done to him what I would want done to me. I must try to understand his viewpoint. 111. Is each religious an individual to me? 112. Do my fellow religious.feel wanted and valued by me? 113. Do my fellow religious find the quality of thought-fulness in me? 114. Do I make it a habit to direct my attention to each religious individually at least once during the day? 115. Have I tried to satisfy each one's basic need to be accepted, the need for belonging? 116. Have I made use of each one's talents (all of them), or do I level them down to an equal share from each? Do I, then, expect only three talents from one who has and can give ten talents? 117. Do I take too much ~or granted the conscientious and well-balanced religious who does not demand my at-tention? 118. Do I give each individual religious my undivided attention regardless of who he is and how often he may come to me in a given day? 119. Do I make a sincere effort to speak to each re-ligious some time each day? 120. Do I give a sufficient amount of time to those who need to talk over with me the question of students who may be a problem to them? This could be a problem of behavior or some method that would help teaching. If a teacher is weak in discipline, this is a good means of gently getting across the fact that the child is not always at fault. 121. How well uo I "listen" when religious come for permissions, advice, and such? With preoccupation? With patience? With haste or annoyance? And this especially at difficult times? Or am I gracious, patient, helpful, Christlike? Have I shown impatience with those who come to me with trifles? Which of them? Do I r~ally listen when a religious is telling me something---or am I finish-ing up this job or starting another? 122. Have I treated each religious the same behind his back as I have to his face? 123. Do I control my hurt when one of the religious tells lies about me to religious of our own house? 124. Can my subjects sway my will by flattery? 125. Do I afford my subjects the opportunity of sug-gesting spiritual reading books? 126. What have I done to encourage professional read-ing on the part of my subjects? Do I give them an ex-ample in this regard? Do I ever check,up on them on this point? 127. Do I seek to prepare my fellow religious for fu-ture responsible positions in the community? ÷ Local Superiors VOLUME 21, 1962 97 KATIE ROCK Restoration, with a Difference 4. + 4. Katie Rock lives at 200 Oak Street, Falls Church. Vir-ginia. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 98 Washington, D.C. is a city of contrasts. There are beau-tiful green expanses and there are dark, depressing alleys. There are massive monuments and tremendous buildingsl and there are rows and rows of shabby, run-down homes. Happily, there is city-wide slum-clearance consciousness; and already in some parts of town the monotonous rows are being converted into magnificent Town Houses with every modern feature. Restoration is taking place for many reasons, but unfortunately the power and profit motives seem the big reason. It is therefore refreshing to know that some are bringing their talents and inspiration to the restoration simply because they want to have part in "restoring all things to Christ." An assignment enhanced by my own curiosity took me to Foggy Bottom, the latest dilapidated section to be-come the site of intensive re-making. Situated only one.~ half mile from the White House, it is bounded roughly by Georgetown, George Washington University, the new State Department Building, and the Potomac River. This was my first visit to Foggy Bottom since it became "fash-ionable," and I was so fascinated as I walked down the narrow streets that I stopped to browse a bit. Gradually tiny broken-down row houses are being transformed into confortable city homes. Interesting colors, small but per.; fect gardens, unique combinations of contemporary and forsaken styling are attractive and appealing. Among the private homes there are apartment hotels arising. ¯ It was fun to speculate about the insides of these color., ful homes as I walked along the old brick sidewalks. Oc.; casionally a brass plate revealed an M.D. was occupant, or a navy captain, or a professor. A baby carriage in a tiny yard indicated there is new life in Foggy Bottom, too; When I arrived at my destination, the corner of H and 25th Streets, I stopped in wonder and admiration. Be-fore me was a turreted three-story structure of brick, painted a soft yellow with black trim which offsets awe-somely the octagon-shaped tower, dormer, and windows. There is a terrace in front, a landscaped yard, and I peeped onto a sheltered patio. A lacy black iron fence surrounds the property and a brass plate announces that this is the home of Melita god~ck,~A.I.A, g: Associates. I was welcomed inside by Melita, who introduced me to her assistant, Bernice, and after' being made to feel at home, I settled down to hear the story of a wonderful new venture into the new frontiers of our faith. Who is Melita? The decor and art work and religious atmosphere of this first floor indicate an unusual life. Melita was born in Milan, Italy, and educated at Vienna Polytechnic. She is a convert to Catholicism. Although she is an artist and sculptress, her professional experience and livelihood have mainly been centered On architec-ture. Twelve years were spent with other firms. Included in her work with those firms were high schools in Arling-ton, Virginia, and Rockville, Maryland, commercial buildings and a shopping center, a drive-in restaurant, hospitals.and the huge Medical Center of the National Institute of Health in Bethesda, Maryland, and many government buildings ranging from a missile base to renovations of Post Offices. Since establishing her private firm about three years ago, Melita has designed the Queen Anne's Lane Town Houses in Foggy Bottom valued at :~1,000,000 (and which won for her a Goid Medallion award), many residences, the Consolata Missions Semi-nary in Buffalo, New York, the Ayles~ord Retreat Center in Chicago, and remodeling of churches in southern Mary-land. For the Government, among other projects, she modified a hangar at Andrews Air Force Base. There is another facet to Melita's background. Dur-ing the 1940's she worked for four years in the Harlem Friendship House, engaged in interracial work, apolo-getics, and the practice of the spiritual and corporal works of mercy. During this time she had rich experi-ences. She undertook a formal course in philosophy un-der Jacques Maritain. She learned the principles of social justice from the best of its exponents, Father John La- Farge, S.J., Baroness Catherine de Hueck Doherty, the Sheeds, and others. During these years, she developed a great love for liturgical music through the influence of other wonderful visitors to Friendship House, one of whom was Professor Dietrich von Hildebrand. More and more, as years went by, Melita!s ability in. architecture and her various artistic talents became an integrated venture. And the motivating force in her life was her religion. Her love of designing, composing, creat-ing, on the one hand, and her love of God and her fellow-man on the other were beginning to congeal into one idea. + + + Restoration VOLUME 21, 1962 99 ÷ ÷ Katie Rock REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS I00 In 1956, Melita took several months off from work to take a trip around the world, studying and observing the architecture of many lands and plans of other countries to meet the changes of modern life. Her first stop was Australia where she visited her brother, an engineer there. Then she visited the Philippines, Thailand, and India, observing certain unique and desirable aspects of Far Eastern architecture. From India she proceeded to the Holy Land, and this part of her journey provided a re-treat, as she put the world out of mind and became ab-sorbed in the life of our Lord. Her travels continued in Turkey, on to Italy where she lingered in Rome, then to Spain and France. In Germany she studied problems in-volved in regional planning for mining. Because of a serious interest in necessity for inter-diocesan planning, Melita was deeply interested in the episcopal planning bureau in Belgium, by which city churches and rural churches and schools are planned according to needs of city, suburban, or rural life. Here in Belgium, Melita observed the tremendous effect of "Young Christian Workers" in Catholic activity. The last stop was England, then home to sift and appraise the ideas and inspiration from her round-the-world journey. In 1958, Melita began her own firm, specializing in providing for her clients complete architectural, engi-neering, and planning service combined with interior decorating. The firm has the services of excellent consul-tants in engineering and financing. When the firm was first Organized, .Melita and Bernice lived and worked in the Potomac Plaza Apartments. One day a For Sale sign went up on a deserted, dilapidated dwelling across the street from the apartment. Curiosity and vision sent Me-lita on an inspection tour. The unusual lines and the lovely view of the Potomac from the third floor tower captured Melita's heart. And the creaky stairs, plaster-bare walls and cobwebs provided a challenge to Melita's pro-fessional ability. The house today seems to say it was joy as well as work that restored it to its immense liveability and unusual beauty. So much for Melita, the architect, for she is more than an artist and an architect. Melita has vision and percep-tion and appreciation for beauty not touched by human hands. Designing is not only a business with her but a God-given talent in which she expresses the love of God in her soul. Creative art, Melita told me, is the remedy man needs in this age of technology, assembly lines, and automation. These things, cold and impersonal, produce ragged nerves and tensions and strike at man's very soul, leaving him unmindful of the purpose for which his Crea-tor put him on earth. Into all forms of art--painting, poetry, music, and so forth---goes one's own personality, reflecting a personal relationship with the Heavenly Father. The closer to God man is, ~the truer his work, and the more he will choose a good and proper use of ma-terials. In the arts a man may find peace and contentment for he may use his.creativ.e ability' to transform his inner energy in a satisfying manner,~, ~, Happily, Melita sees her obligation to use her creative ability to promote a Christian society, a Christian com-munity life. Melita is taking the giant step of using her profession solely for the glory of God and for love of her neighbor with no profit except the profit of peace in her own heart. Others have done this; for example, Dr. Albert Schweitzer and Dr. Tom Dooley and Geo.rge Washington Carver. Her heart and will having been entrusted to God some time ago, Melita began sifting ideas about putting her philosophy into practice. Then ideas had to be translated into blueprints, and these blueprints needed and received approval from her auxiliary Bishop, Most Reverend Philip M. Hannan, chancellor of the archdiocese. Then came discussions with many wise and prudent friends: spiritual directors, teachers, fellow artists, other archi-tects, and even mothers of children who are awakening to the needs of our frustrated society. Far from relying solely on her own ideas, Melita sought and listened to ~he counsel of all. The result was a plan to begin a secular institute of the design professions to be called Regina Institute. A secular institute is an association of lay people living in the world but bound by the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, performing duties suitable for their talents for the love of God. Though popular and plentiful in Europe, secular institutes are just emerging in our coun-try. Their specific purposes vary widely. In Madonna House, for instance, workers live among the poor, teach-ing crafts and catechism, nursing the sick and feeding the hungry. In the Company of St. 'Paul, members teach, work in the Government, and so forth. This is a quiet life~ there is nothing in their dress to indicate they are an organization dedicated to Christ. Members simply strive to live as "Christs" among those needy in goods or in spirit. Regina Institute is taking another direction. First of all, Melita is concerned with the arts in the service of the Church's liturgy. She would like to assist in setting stand-ards for the quality of sacred art just as Benedictines have set a standard for sacred music. Second, she is endeavor-ing to bring the Incarnation into society by bringing Christian attitudes into the building professions and in-dustry and into city planning. The Christian philosophy of man and the social teachings of the Church are being Restoration VOLUME 21, 1962 ]0! Katie Ro~k REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 102 applied, thus supporting such contemporary projects as open occupancy, adequate housing, and so forth. Third, Melita and associates try to teach all of us the visual arts and their spiritual and cultural values. My visit showed me a great deal about the practice of these ideals and the life of this infant group. Melita and Bernice filled in a picture of a day in Regina House, tak-ing me on a tour of the house as they talked about their Rule. Recently Gwen moved in with Melita and Bernice. For the present they are living according to the Rule of the Third Order of Our Lady of Mount Carmel. Melita has served as novice mistress of the St. Therese Chapter in Washington for eleven years. The Rule seeks to instill in its followers the spirit of constant prayer and love. Early each morning the group leaves for St. Stephen's Church nearby for a halfihour.of.meditation before 7:30 Mass. Breakfast follows, then they recite in ~ommon Prime, Terce and Sext from the Little 01~ce. (On.nice days they do so on the patio which they call their "clois-ter.") At 9:00 work begins. Lunch is at 12:30, followed by None and Vespers, then free time. At 2:00 they go back to work until dinner. At 7:30 comes Compline, Matins, and Lauds, and after that there is recreation-- long walks in nice weather, singing or reading at other times. One day of each.month is spent in retreat. There are three floors in l~egina House. The first con-tains the dining area and kitchen opening onto the patio, Bernice's office, and a music area. Melita plays the piano, and there is also a stereo arid many fine records, including Gregorian chant and classical music. On the second floor, we entered a work and study spa.ce. I was fascinated with the dozens of books and their range of subjects, from the culture of the Far East to the philosophy of Frank Lloyd Wright. There are books in German and French and Spanish, books on philosophy, Catholic Action, and the liturgy, books on ancient architecture and books on mod-ern design. Attractive chairs and a lovely view are invit-ing. Melita's bedroom, also on this floor, shows all her separate interests united in her one endeavor. There are beautiful religious objects, side by side with a drawing board (she is currently working on a dental laboratory) and there were several sketches in process, both water colors and oils. On the third floor are more drawing boards. This floor also serves as a workshop for other projects. Bernice finds time to make beautiful cards by a linoleum process fea-turing Melita's impressionistic designs. Bernice has a talent for dress designing and sewing; also she does lovely ceramic tile work. I noticed several clay models of build-ings as well as wooden models; Melita explained these help her visualize her ideas. Certainly the first purpose'of this institute is sanctifi-cation of its members. Theystrive for a four-fold contact with Christ: Christ the Life, through prayer.and the sacra-ments; Christ the Truth, through study and meditation; Christ the Way, through i~bedience; and Christ the Worker, through creative human effort for love of God. Melita invites young people inclined towards the design arts, who would like to dedicate their service to God, to talk to her. Regina House is large enough to house several women. If men apply, perhaps a home close by will be found for them, while work and prayer will be centered in Regina House. The necessity for meals and housekeep-ing means the Institute must attract also "artists" of the kitchen and "masters" of the broom. In fact, Melita is ready to consider anyone who is willing to share her ideals and approach, and invites those interested to con-tact her at 801 25th St. N.W., Washington 7, D.C. So sold was I by my visit that I was ready to apply-- but Melita just won't take a mother of eight growing children. Reluctantly I said "good-bye" and went out the big black door and the lacy iron gate. I looked back with new appreciation at Regina House which today so sur-passes in beauty and liveability its original design. From the ordinary it has become majestic. I left, believing that Melita's plan for it also far surpasses the ordinary Chris-tian way of living and that its tower truly points to Heaven and its eternal history is just beginning. ÷ ÷ ÷ Restoration VOLUME 21, 1962 103 WALTER DE BONT, O.P. Identity Crisis and the Male Novice Walter de Bont, O.P., is a member of the faculty o! the Catholic University in Nijmegen, Hol-land. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 104 Beginners' Failings Father Lacordaire,1 the day after his entry into the novitiate, confided to the master of novices: "Father, I can't stay here; these young men are childish and quite silly. They think everything is funny," "It would be a shame," the priest answered, "if the former preacher of Notre Dame of Paris should, by a hasty departure, give the world the impression that his entrance into religion had not been thoroughly consid-ered. Wait a while, then." Three weeks later the master of novices asked him, "When are you leaving?" "But I do not wish to go, so long as you are willing to keep me." "But what of your young companions who are so silly?" "Father," said Lacordaire, a little embarrassed, "I am the silliest of them all." In all the novitiates of the world since the beginning of monasticism there h~tve been young men, and some not so young, who were "a little silly." No matter how more or less normal they were a few weeks.previously, before they had left "the world," here they become affected by a whole series of strange phenomena which spiritual authors call "beginners' failings" (see especially St. John of the Cross, Dark Night, 1, 1-7). Using the material furnished by the experiment described below, the following section will give a rapid and pseudonymous portrait of certain "types" who betray the curious behavior encountered among be-ginners. *This article is translated with permission from the original article, "La crise d'identit~ du novice," which appeared in Suppld-ment de la Vie Spirituelle, 1961, pp. 295-325. The translation is by the Reverend John E. Becket, S.J. Passing Vagaries Brother Clement suddenly develops a phobia for drafts; underground currents beneath his bed keep him from sleeping; he wonders whether the spinach from the garden has enough iron to supply his needs; the light bulb on his work table endangers his eyes; and so on. No one has de-scribed more humorously than St. Teresa of Avila this kind of hypochondriac novice who seems "to have entered the cloister solely to labor at staving off death." She her-self, for that matter, knew this temptation of seeking "not to lose one's repose here below and still to enjoy God in heaven." John is a real gourmet--in search of spiritual delicacies. All his efforts are aimed at getting the satisfaction of a very sensible devotion from' prayer; In his :better moments he feels inundated with grace and spends hours in the chapel. When consolation no longer comes to him, he is desolate and lamentsin the blackest sorrow. At such times he passes the time of meditation breaking in books. Guy fears to embark on the road to perfection, excusing himself as one who was not meant to accomplish great things. He even thanks God for not making him too in-telligent. Comparing himseff with others, he has already lost all courage. Some suffer from quite peculiar sexual problems. At the very moment of prayer, confession, or communion, sexual feelings and reactions surge up. Cassian has already spoken of a brother "who enjoyed constant purity of heart and body, having merited it by reason of his circumspection and humility, and who was never afflicted with nocturnal emissions. But whenever he prepared for communion, he was sullied by an impure flow in his sleep. For a long time fear kept him from participating in the sacred mys-teries" (ConIerences, 22, 6). And then there are the pilgrims of ,the absolute with pure and perfect ideals. They are so punctual in their ex-ercises that you can set your watch by them; but they easily forget that the rule is merely a means to love God and their neighbor better. Burning with enthusiasm, they seem to have sanctity within their grasp. Lacking patience, they try to force the ascent toward God with Draconian measures. The novitiate is the decisive year in which holi-ness must be achieved. For them profession is a final set-tlement and not a decisive beginning. Or else there are the grim ascetics. In his enthusiasm for purity, Henry Suso did not scratch, nor even touch, any part of his body. Throughout the day he abstained from all drink. In the evening at the sprinkling with holy water, he opened his dry lips and gaped toward the 'sprinkler, hoping that a tiny drop of water would fall on his arid 4. + + Identity Crisis VOLUME 21, 1962 ]05 4. W. de Bont, OJL REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 106 tongue. At the age of forty, luckily, when "his whole na-ture was so devastated that nothing was left for him but to die or leave off his austerities," he opted for life and threw his whole arsenal of instruments of penance into the lake. For most of these novitiate "follies" are only temporary. Sooner or later good sense reasserts its rights, and the spiritual life of the subject becomes more balanced. St. Teresa had already clearly sensed that this bizarre conduct of the novice-beginner was somewhat forced and not genuine: Anything which gets the better of us to such an extent that we think our reason is not free must be considered suspicious, for in that way we shall never gain freedom of spirit, one of the marks of which is that we can find God in all things even while we are thinking of them. Anything other than this is spiritual bondage, and, apart from the harm which it does to the body, it constrains the soul and retards its growth (Book of the Foun-dations, Chapter 6, from The Complete Works ot Saint Teresa oI Jesus, translated and edited by E. Allison Peers, Volume III, p. 32 [London and New York: Sheed and Ward, 1946]). If "our reason is not [completely] free," then we are not fully on the plane of moral defects, but partially on that of psychic determinisms. And it is precisely the psychic aspect of these, phenomena that we propose to study in this article which has no other aim than to throw some light by the help of modern depth psychology on this strange being whom the masters of the spiritual life have been ob-serving for centuries, the beginner par excellence, the novice, and on his imperfections. The perspective of this article must, then, be clearly emphasized. This is not a work of spiritual theology. The theologian contemplates the events of the novitiate with the eyes of faith; he sees there the hand of God and the conflict between grace and sin. The perspective of this article is much more modest; it is, to put it simply, psychological. Without in any way denying the workings of grace, we shall systematically ab-stract from them; for the designs of God and the ways of grace are not apprehended by the purely human ways of kno~ving which alone are at the disposal of the psychol-ogist. While leaving aside the supernatural aspect of the growth of the novice, we are bound to point out that this aspect tias been amply clarified by the masters of spiritual theology from Cassian and St. Benedict to St. John of the Cross and contemporary authors. Working Hypothesis and Methodology To initiate the psychological study of the novice and of his "imperfections," we took as "subjects" twenty-eight male novices belonging to two quite different communi-ties. We asked for volunteers only, but in each novitiate everyone volunteered. The age of our subjects varied from eighteen to twenty-two years. The level of their previous instruction was for the most part uniform, and they were about equally divided between those, from rural and those from urban backgrounds. The experiment was made dur-ing the fourth month of the/novitiate. i~ A double series of tools was used, since our aim was to clarify certain problems of the spiritual life. of the sub-jects by a study of their personality in the course of evolu-tion. a) For the study of personality, projection tests were used, especially the Rorschach and the Thematic Apper-ception Test (T.A.T.), since these two tests are universally recognized as highly useful for this purpose. The admin-istration of the Rorschach was preceded by the drawing of a human figure, so that the subject might implicitly per-ceive that a creative effort was expected of him. b) For the study of their spiritual life, the novices were asked to write a four-page essay entitled "The Ideal and the Difficulties of My Spiritual Life." c) To complete our information from the character-ological as well as the spiritual side, we conducted inter-views of about an hour with each subject, his master of novices, and the assistant to the master of novices. It was striking, especially in going over the Rorschach protocols, to see the number of signs of anxiety, of ten-sion, and of disintegration. Equally striking, however, were the efforts at synthesis. Given the age. and the situa-tion of our subjects, this called to mind the psychological situation described by Erik Erikson under the name of "identity crisis" (see Erik Erikson, "The Problem of Ego Identity" in Identity and the Lqe Cycle, volume one of "Psychological Issues" [New York: International Univer-sities Press, 1959]). As a matter of fact, the novice is a young adult, around eighteen to twenty years of age. As others become doctors, engineers, and fathers of families, he, at the end of his adolescence, chose in a more or less definitive way the role he wanted to play in adult society: that of religious or priest. This role is the result and syn-thesis of his entire previous development. In this connec-tion, Erikson uses the word "identity" because in this role the young man ought to be able to accomplish the best he is capable of while at the same time promoting the aims of society. The novitiate is his first serious testing of this role; he is vested in the religious habit and he follows the rules of his community as they are adapted for re-cruits. What does this identity of pries.t-religious become in the novitiate? Is the young man able to realize it here in the way in which he dreamed of doing? Does the com-munity he has chosen respect this identity? If these ques-tions receive a more or less negative answer, .a crisis oc- VOLUME 21, 1962 curs, an identity crisis because it is the novice's identity that is brought into question. As with every crisis it is manifested by certain symptoms; and one may assume that the imperfections of beginners are precisely the signs of this crisis on the religious plane. Our hypothesis then is this: The novitiate induces in the young religious a crisis about his identity, about the role he wishes to play in life, a role which is the end prod-uct of all his previous development; this crisis comes from the fact that this role is threatened by the novitiate; and the imperfections of beginners are the symptoms of this crisis. In order to understand this hypothesis better, a more ample presentation must be made of Erikson's notion of identity. This will be done in several of the following sec~ tions. ÷ ÷ ÷ W. de Bwnt, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 108 Identity, Synthesis of the Personality During adolescence all the impulses of earlier life re-appear accompanied by a strong genital drive. It is the characteristic work of the male adolescent to subordinate this chaos of impulses under genitality and find them their proper object, a girl. But this adjustment of one's infan-tile heritage to one's new acquisitions does not confine itself solely to the level of impulsive life; it equally con-cerns the other functions of the personality, the ego and the superego and their identifications. For the young man. must subordinate his previous identifications to a new kind of identification, an ultimate identity learned in so-cial contacts and competitive apprenticeship with his equals. These new identifications no longer have the ca-priciousness of infancy or the experimental fervor o youth; with extreme urgency they impel the young indio. vidual toward choices and decisions which progressively conduct him to a final definition of himself, to an irrev-ocable configuration of rol~s, and then to lifelong com-mitments. The normal adolescent performs this reintegration him. self, using spontaneously chosen adults and older adbles-cents as his models. But the age at which this synthesis is completed varies considerably. The more complicated a civilization is, the longer it takes its members to integrate their personality and find their place in society. At the bee ginning of our era people were married at Sixteen, a thing that rarely happens today. Suso entered the novitiate ar thirteen, whereas nowadays even canon law considers thi.~ too early. Moreover it would seem that workers or farm people come to adulthood before members of the profes. sional classes who have more to integrate and spend a longer time in training. Finally, the presence of acute conflicts can make this integration even more difficult and slow. At the worst, they may even render such integration impossible and the subject becomes neurotic or psychotic. Identity, a Psychosocial Reality This ultimate identity of which we have been speaking is unique for each individual because no two ,develop in identically the same way. '~Id~e'~,er, it is fa~'~O~ being individualistic. A person becomes himself only in a given society and in order to live in that society according to that identity. Ideally, identity implies that one is most oneself when one is most in relation with others and that our personal values and ideals coincide for the most part with those of the environment which is accepted by the person and in which he feels himself accepted. It is of ex-treme importance for the formation of the identity of the young man that society respond to him and that he receive a function and a status which integrates him into the community. In order to take his place in society the young man must acquire the skillful use of his principal ability and fulfill it in some activity. He should enjoy the exercise of this activity, .the companionship which it furnishes, and its traditions. Finally he must receive a setof teachings which allow him to see the meaning of life: religion, philosophy, or some ideology. Speaking psychosocially, the'h, identity is the role, integrated into the character, which the indi-vidual wishes to play in society and for which he expects the approbation of society in order to give meaning to his life. After the psychosexual delay of the period of latency there must, in consequence, be another delay, adolescence, so that the already sexually adult young man may, by freely experiencing different roles, find himself a place in some section of society, a place which in its definiteness seems made uniquely for him. The Genesis o[ Identity Identity must not be confused with identification. The simple addition of infantile identifications (the child act-ing like his parents, his brothers, his uncles, his teachers, his friends.) never results in a functioning personality. These identifications are too disparate and too contra-dictory; they are, moreover, often far from being socially acceptable or realistic, since the child's imagination dis-torts the image of his. parents or other models to suit his own needs. The final identity which emerges in the course of adolescence and which at the end of its development is largely fixed, is rather a new configuration which includes all previous usable identifications while transcending them all. They are transformed to make a whole which is unique and reasonably coherent. This new configuration ought to be achieved in such a way that in it the physical 4. VOLUME 21, 1962 ]~9 ÷ ÷ W. d~ Bont, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS constitution of the young man, his affective needs, his best liked capacities, his effective defense mechanisms, and his successful sublimations find their rightful use. The formation of personal identity, then, has its roots in the most distant past of the individual, a past often lost in the clouds of the unconscious. It begins with the first introjections and projections of the baby whose relative integration depends on a mutually satisfying relationship between the child and his mother. For it is she who must give him that basic trust in himself and in others which is at the foundation of any process of becoming social. Then follow the different identifications of childhood which will be the more successful according as.their proto-types show themselves to be both loving and firm. The last step of the formation of the ultimate identity begins when the usefulness of identifications is over. It consists of the repudiation of some infantile identifications and an absorptive assimilation of others of them into a new configuration, which in its turn depends on the proc-ess by which a society (or the subgroups of a society) "identify" the young man by recognizing him as someone who ought to have turned out as he did and who is ac-cepted as he is. Society in its turn feels "recognized" by the individual who demands to be accepted, or profoundly and aggressively rejected by the individual who seems un-interested in any social integration. Identity manifests itself, then, in the role which the young man is going to play in society. Identity Crisis When the young man, emerging from.adolescence with his newly acquired identity, does not find in society the place he needs in order to continue to be what he has been and to develop still more, he runs the risk of a crisis. His ambitions may be too vast, society too different from his ideal; certain aspects of his identity may be poorly de-veloped in relation to what is demanded by the customs of his milieu from the viewpoint of sex, occupation, or in the area of academic or athletic competition. This constitutes a failure, at least a partial and provisional one. The at-tempt to enter into a relationship with society will piti-lessly reveal any weakness up to now latent in his identity. There results a state of confusion with the following symp-toms: a feeling of isolation, a breakdown of the feeling of personal continuity, shame, inability to enjoy any ac-tivity, a sense of enduring life rather than of actively living it, a distorted perspective of time, and finally, an extreme mistrust of others as if society were in opposition to what the subject wants to be. But no matter how many neurotic or psychotic symp-toms may be discovered, an identity crisis is not a sickness. Rather, it is a normal crisis, that is, a normal phase of sharp conflict characterized by an apparent wavering in the strength of the ego, but also by great possibilities for growth. Neurotic and psychotic crises are characterized by a tendency to perpetuate themselves because o~ a loss of defensive energy and ~i deep social isolation.~ A'grOWth crisis, on the contrary, is relatively more easy to overcome and is characterized by an abundance of utilizab!e energy. This energy, doubtless, causes the reawakening of dormant anxieties and engenders new conflicts; but it supports the ego in the functions it has newly acqtiired or developed during the search for new opportunities or for, new rela-tions which society is more than ever ready to offer. What appeared as the .onset of a neurosis is often only a quite acute crisis which dissipates itself and helps more than it harms the formation of the subject's identity. Some cases, however, reach a less fortunate outcome: derangement, suicide, or a confirmed case of nerves. We have already briefly mentioned the characteristic symptoms of the identity crisis, now it will be worthwhile to give a more ample description of them by contrasting them with the dimensions of an ultimate identity success-fully achieved. The Dimensions of Identity and Its Crisis At each stage of man's psychosocial, development cer-tain criteria allow us to see whether the individual has passed through this phase successfully or whether he has failed. So it is with the baby's crisis of trust (in the oral stage of development); with the crisis of autonomy at the age of two (during the anal phase); with the crisis of in-itiative around the age of five years (the age of the Oedipus complex); with the assimilation of work during the time of schooling; the crises brought about by marriage and the birth of children; and the problems posed by maturity and old age. What interests us here are the criteria which let us evaluate the identity crisis in the passage from puberty to adulthood. Erikson gives eight criteria which show whether the young man has succeeded in building up for himself in accordance with his possibilities an ultimate identity which is both balanced and accepted by his environment, or whether he remains at grips with an outgrown identity which is deficient and replete with conflicts. As has just been said, each growth crisis reawakens sleeping anxieties, the relics of old battles in former crises which were buried but not done away with. In the identity crisis certain con-flicts of preceding stages of psychosocial development are reawakened. This reawakening evidently does not bring these conflicts forward under the shape which they had when the subject was still a baby or a small child, but in a Identity Crisis VOLUME 21, 1962 ÷ ÷ W. d~ Bont, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS way that is colored by his current development. The first four dimensions of the identity crisis mentioned by Erik. son are reawakenings of former crises which, as we have mentioned, have to do with trust in o~hers and in oneself, personal autonomy from others, the ability to take the ini.~ tiatives by which one becomes "someone," and the ability to do one's work well. But the young man is not formed by his past alone; he is also stretching towards the future; The last three dimensions of the identity crisis are then foretastes of the problems which he will have to resolve later on in his life when he marries, when he becomes a fafher, or when he .reckons up the balance of his whoh: life. ¯ Here then are the eight criteria or dimensions of the identity crisis: a) Presence. or absence of a perspective in life. The young man in the grips of an identity crisis manifests a confused attitude toward time which may be more or less grave according to the case. He sees no prospects for him-self in life. Since his identity is not well defined and he is fully confused with regard to his place in society, his con-fidence in the future is completely overturned. He is in despair, even if this shows up as a headlong precipitancy with which he tries to reach his goal, like the student who, for an elementary examination in biology, studies only the most advanced articles. This is a derivative revival of the impatience found in the child who has not yet realized that all human activity realizes itself only gradually in obedience to the progressive nature of time rather than all at once as if by magic. When the young man resolves his crisis and begins 'to become himself, when he synthesizes the different aspects of his character and finds his place in society, this co:a-fused attitude toward the temporal element of his life is changed into a rich diversity of prospects; at the same time he becomes open to the temporal dimension as indispen-sable for every building up of his personality. Moreover, through the temporal dimension of the ideology which it offers him, society can help the young man to rediscover the feeling that his past and his future have a meaning. Most religions, philosophies, or political doctrines teach that there is a meaning and a direction to life. Even though such an ideology may not be altogether realistic and may represent a certain simplification of the order of things, still, in such a situation its pedagogical usefulness is real. b) Self-certainty or self-consciousness. The young man going through an identity crisis is characterized next by insecurity, by a doubting of himself accompanied by shame at what he is or has been. What reappear are the social characteristics of the anal stage. Once he has regained at a higher level the balance which he had achieved before, the new sense of his own meaning gives him the necessary assurance to face life and to assume his chosen role in society. Here again, in the recovery of assurance, social surroundings can be a powerful aid by the uniformity of conduct, arid ,sometimes of~:clbthing, which they impose, often without even demanding them by an explicit code. With the help of this uniformity, the young man, though in a state of confusion, may tempo-rarily hide his shame and his doubts until his identity is sufficiently reestablished. c) Free experimentation with roles or its absence. The healthy young man's entrance into adult society is char-acterized by the provisional adoption of a great variety of roles and initiatives, each of which is tested by a process of trial and error in order to .decide which is better for him so that he may make a final choice which will determine the principal content of his adult life. This is a prolonga-tion of the child play of the Oedipal age in which the child sought to overcome anxiety by his identifications; the child of four who plays at driving a bus attains, in this way, at least in his imagination, equality with the adults he fears, especially his parents (the castration complex of classical psychoanalysis). But in certain cases, especially if adoles-cence is unduly prolonged, the opposite of this free ex-pe. rimentation with roles is found. To characterize this other extreme, Erikson speaks of negative identity, that is, "an identity perversely based on all those identifications and roles which, at critical stages of development, had been presented to the individual as most undesirable or dangerous, and yet also as most real" ("The Problem of Ego Identity," op. cit., p. 131). The 'young man whose mother is always saying, "If you act that wa~ you will turn out like your uncle [a drunkard]" can end up precisely that; he identifies himself with what is forbidden because it is more real for him than the positive ideal which' his mother never spoke of with such eloquence. According to some recent research (that of Adelaide Johnson and her staff) juvenile delinquency (in the area of aggressivity)and perversion (in the sexual area) are frequently the result of such largely negative education. But there are still other ways to renounce a free experimentation with roles; for example, the renouncement of personal identity in an ex-treme conformism which tries to root out everything which goes against even the excessive demands of the en-vironment. Here again the different segments of society offer the young man initiations or confirmations which are apt to encourage the spirit o[ initiative while channeling it and allaying the reawakening of Oedipal guilt. "They strive, within an atmosphere of mythical timelessness, to com- . 4- 4- 4- VOLUME 21, 1962 113 ÷ ÷ ÷ W. ~e Bo~t, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS bine some. form of sacrifice or submission with an energetic guidance toward sanctioned and circumscribed ways of action--a combination which assures the development in the novice of an optimum of compliance with a maximum sense of fellowship and free choice" ("The Problem of Ego Identity," op. cit., p. 144). d) Anticipation of achievement or work paralysis. The next characteristic of the adolescent who is initiating him-self into society is the anticipation of success. He feels able to accomplish something, to fulfill his function in the. community in such a way that the other members will re-pay him by their esteem. This is a prolongation of the ap-plication to school work during the period of latency. When things go poorly, the subject, instead of feeling him-self able to assume his role, is paralysed in the work he is doing either because his ambitions are too vast or because his environment has no place for his special capacities or does not give him the recognition he hopes for. Or he risks everything to gain everything and throws himself." prematurely into an intellectual or social activity which is extravagant and rigid and which may in the end com. pletely destroy his personal happiness, if not his physical existence: At the root of ~ill these forms of work pathology we find, according to Erikson, a reawakening of Oedipal competition and of the rivalry with his brothers or sisters. The different segments of society help those who are the process of learning and of trying out their social role by offering them .a certain provisional status, that of ap-prentice or student--with all that these imply of duties, competition, freedom, and also of potential integration into the hierarchy of jobs and of classes, as in associations for young adults (for example, political parties have their sections for youth which act ~s an initiation into adult life). e) Identity or confusion. The most general character-istic of the young man who has not yet achieved interior and social balance is confusion. This is the global result of all the imbalances set up by the reawakening of old conflicts and of all the confused attitudes which come from the fact that the ~oung man is still unable to take his place in the community of adults. A multiplicity of contradic-tory roles results. Two souls come to exist in one body, as the hermit and the power mad man did in Francisco Jimfinez de Cisneros (Le Cardinal d'Espagne), or ~2z~chiely and Tenebroso-Cavernoso in Father Joseph, the grey emi-nence, "combining in his own person the oddly assorted characters of Metternich and Savonarola" (Aldous Huxley, Grey Eminence [New York and London: Harper, 1941], p. 128). Nevertheless, when the conflict has been crystal-lized, that is, become irreversible, we no longer speak of an identity crisis or of confusion, but of neurosis (sympto- matic or characterological) and of psychosis in which the 'T' has become someone else in the complete collapse of the sense of oneself, as in the case of the novice who, having divested himself in choir, appeared on the altar before the community piously assembled for a ho.ly hour and said, "I am the Immaculate C6nceptiofi."'~ The opposite of this confusion, which emerges in a more or less definitive way at the end of a successful ado-lescente, is identity. It is the feeling of having integrated into one's person all the valuable elements of one's child-hood heritage in order to give oneself with all one's forces .to love, to work, and to the social commitments, of adult life. We need not develop this sinc~ it has already been treated in previous sections of this article. f) Sexual identity or bisexual.conIusion. We come now to the ch~aracteristics of the identity crisis which are not derived from old, preadolescent' conflicts reawakened by physical maturation, but which are rather the precursors of conflicts which will find their climax and their.resolu-tion later in the ages of preadulthood, adulthood, or ma-turity, The proper task of the preadult period is intimacy, es-pecially sexual intimacy, with a partner. According to Erikson the "utopia of genitality" ought to include: mu-tual orgasm with a loved partner of the opposite sex with whom one is willing and able to share mutual responsibil-ity and with whom one is willing and able to adjust the cycles of work, procreation, and recreation in such a way as to assure their offspring a similar satisfactory develop-ment. As for the celibate, "a human being should be po-tentially able to accomplish mutuality of genital orgasm, but he should also be so constituted as to bear frustration in the matter without undue regression wherever consider-ations of reality and loyalty call for it" (Erik Erikson, Childhood and Society [New York: Norton, 1950], p. 230). Whoever fails at this stage becomes an isolated personality. In the identity crisis the precursors of these extremes are seen. The one who will later succeed in entering into a true intimacy with another is the one who succeeds in integrating into his personality the true characteristics of his sex, who sees himself both consciously and uncon-sciously as pertaining to his sex, and not more or less to the other sex. In those periods when the personality is less structured, and especially in irreversible pathological cases, there is a clear incapacity to assume the role proper to one's sex, a confusion of masculine and feminine traits which exceeds the relative confusion which' is normal at the beginning of adolescence. Intimacy presupposes, therefore, a sense of one's iden-tity, a capacity to be oneself on the sexual level as on other levels: "The condition of a true twoness is that one must ÷ ÷ VOLUME 21, 1962 115' 4. 4. 4. W. de Bont, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS first become onself" (Erik Erikson, "Growth and Crises of ~he 'Healthy Personality' " in Personality in Nature, So-ciety, and Cultizre, C. Kluckhohn and H. Murray, eds. [New York: Knopf, 1956], p. 222). Anyone who has .not achieved his own identity can not have intimate relations with another. He will take refuge in a sterile isolation for fear of losing himself completely; or else he will turn him-self over to another body and soul borrowing the identity of the other to fill up his own void, in this way vainly seeking to resolve an identification which was not success- [ul in childhood. Different societies have very different means of helping through these difficulties the young man who is already physiologically, though not socially, adult: by demanding complete sexual continence; or by permitting sexual ac-tivities which do not lead to definitive social engagements; or by stimulating sexual play without intercourse (pet-ting). The purpose of this prop is to stimulate and to strengthen the ego and its identity. g) Authority: orientation or conIusion. The adulthood of a truly healthy man ought to be characterized by pro-. creativeness; this means assuming responsibility for' the. next generation by parenthood or by other forms of al-truism and creativity. A failure along this line means that' one is absorbed in his own problems instead of placing his energy at the service of others. This is a victory for narcissism: "Individuals who do not develop generativity often begin to indulge themselves as if they were their own one and only child" (Erikson, "Growth and Crisis of the 'H~althy Personality,' " op. cir., p. 223). What forecasts this approaching procreativeness in the young man is the ability to be either a leader or a follower according to circumstances. The attitude of the subject {n everything that conc(rns authority (exercising it or obey., ing it) is realistic. Any future failure of procreativity be-trays itself in the inability to lead or to follow when one of these two relationships is required. It is especially in sub-groups of his.companionsthat society gives the adolescent the opportunity to try out this strength in the area of aw thority. h) Ideological orientation or conIusion o] ideals. When he has arrived at maturity, the normal man has the sense of having completed his task as far as possible. He accepts responsibility for what he has made of his life and of his personal abilities. Having helped others to become them-selves, he can now pass on this responsibility to the next generation and withdraw from the scene. The man, on the contrary, who has not realized his potentialities for the service of others will experience despair and disgust with himself. He would like to begin his life over but realises that it is too late. His life is a failure whether he admits it to himself or hides it by projecting the blame onto others. This was the case with Father Joseph, that "grey emi-nence" whose double identity was mentioned above. At the end of his life, he felt the bitterness and frustration of a man who has seen God, but who, through his own fault, has lost Him in the attempt t6i'ser~ two mastersJ~loser to us, we have the story of, Sister Luke' and of all those who leave their communities around the age of forty. These two possible attitudes which can emerge at the crisis of maturity are foreshadowed with the'young man by an ideological orientation, "a choice among many val-ues of those which demand our allegiance"; or on the con-trary, by a chaos of ideals without connection or sy.nthe-sis. Society helps the young man here by proposing a variety of ideologies each of which may be useful to him in proportion to its internal consistency. The above paragraphs are a brief presentation of the eight criteria which, according to Erikson, show whether and how the young man succeeds in constructing an iden-tity of his own. If in one or other of the eight areas listed he does not succeed in extricating himself from the confu-sion engendered by this indispensable maturation of his personal identity, he risks becoming the victim of a more or less profound psychic derangement, which may assume the shape of one of the classical forms so thoroughly stud-ied by clinical psychology: symptomatic neurosis, charac-ter neurosis, delinquency, psychosis, and so on. In spite of the interest there might be in studying these personality troubles as functions of the eight dimensions enunciated by Erikson, it is more to our purpose to apply the light of what has been said about the identity crisis of the young man to a study of the problem of the novice, of his quest for identity, and of the crises which this quest may involve. Identity Crisis in the Novitiate The young man who arrives at the door of the novitiate already possesses a certain identity which is more or less well-founded. It shows itself in the choice he has made: to become a celibate instead of marrying; instead of becom-ing a doctor, engineer, or grocer, he aspires to a function in the Church. Moreover, he has chosen this particular community rather than some other. All these factors (cel-ibacy, priesthood, community) are so many aspects of the role which he wishes to play in life. Vaguely he sees him-self in the future as such and such a person, with a more or less specific function, whether it be that of preacher, pro-fessor, pastor, or diplomat attached to a nunciature. This role is the end product of the candidate's total past life, the synthesis of his previous psychic development, But after four months of ttie novitiate (the stage at which the novices who were the subject of our experiment had arrived), the ÷ ÷ ÷ Identity Crisis VOLUME 21, 1962 W. d~ Bont~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS great majority o[ novices are plunged into a more or less pronounced Crisis o[ identity. Signs oI the Crisis In the tests a considerable number of confusion symp-toms were.found, many more than in a group of students of the same age and background who were beginning their studies at a university. We cannot enter here into the more minute d~tails of these symptoms because of their too tech-nical nature; nevertheless, the following should at least be mentioned: a) The universal presence of a considerable anxiety. Anxiety is always an experience of the disintegration of the sell when old conflicts renew their attack. b) Equally striking was the great number of poor in-terpretations in the Rorschach, although they ought not to appear in a normal protocol. Even by using the Ameri-can scoring system of.Klopfer who tends to diminish their number, twenty-two out of twenty-eight novices gave them. This indicates a certain loss of contact with reality which is experienced as too hard, a retreat into phantasy which accompanies the identity crisis. c) Almost all the novices suffered from bisexual con-fusion with a reemergence of feminine traits. This was not manifested in overt sexual responses (except in two cases),, for the novitiate for the most part suppresses overt manifestations of sexuality. But it was visible, for example, in the defective sexual identifications given to the human figures on the Rorschach.cards and those of the T.A.T. (sixteen novices out of twenty-eight). d) Besides, seventeen out of twenty-eight subjects had a deficient image of their own body, according to their drawing of a human figure. This should not be surprising, for the image (more or less unconscious) we have of our own body is a visualisation of our identity. It is very sen-sitive to the influences of the environment; for example, to the interpretative power of clothing. The substitution of the religious garb, a skirt, for lay dress (masculine) has, from this point of view, a profound effect on one's sense of one's identity. "We identify ourselves with others by means of clothes. We become like them. By imitating their clothes we change our postural image of the body by taking over the postural image of others. Clothes can thu:; become a means of changing our body-image completely" (Paul Schilder, The Image and Appearance ol the Human Body [New York: International Universities Press, 1950], p. 204). The great number of deficient images of the body means that our subjects were in a siate of transition between their former identity (the "old man") and their new one. At the level of conscious behavior the crisis betrays it- self in all kinds of sentimental, per~ectionistic, depressive or even mildly paranoid traits. Brother Claude feels sad-dened by the November weather; another is not at ease working with the lay brothers in the garden; Robert thinks that his companions have something~against him when his prayer is not going well; Josephofeels depressed because he may not go out; and the imagination of John-Paul takes refuge in the past. As' for authority, almost all had a poorly balanced attitude, falling either into an exaggerated sub-missiveness or into revolt, or ifito indiscreet exercise of their own authority. Examples of these will be given later. The majority of the novices, then, manifested the two dimensions of the identity crisis which are at the heart of the religious life, for they relate to the vows of chastity and obedience: bisexual confusion and confusion with re-gard to authority. Catalysts of the Crisis The causes of the identity crisis can be summarized in this way: There is crisis, confusion, and disintegration be-cause the novitiate calls into question the initial identity with which the young man came to the novitiate. a) The young man already had a certain role in life before his entrance into the novitiate; he was president of his class, a member of Catholic Action, a well-known foot-ball player. He had a status in his environment, and be-cause of it he enjoyed the esteem of others. Entrance into the novitiate puts an end to all this. He changes his envir-onment and he must remake his reputation. Former modes of satisfaction no longer exist. A whole network of rela-tionships is broken; and it was precisely within this net-work that he found his own place, that he had realized, provisionally but really, his identity. All this he has to do over again. The impossibility of living out his identity in the old way almost inevitably causes a disintegration. The aspirations of the subject and almost their entire psychic substructure remain in suspension until they can be replaced by others or be reaffirmed. Before his novitiate Claude was in love with a some-what maternal girl who was a great help to him in his dif-ficulties. She forced him to become open, although in his own words he had tried to kill his sensitivity. She made an opening in his armor; he could communicate his ideal instead of pursuing it all alone. Separation from her at his entrance into the novitiate was difficult for him. His mem-ories of tenderness keep him alternating between melan-choly and aggressiveness. Arthur, the son of a farmer, is a young man whose strong ambition was enough to assure his success in stud-ies at the rural high school he attended, though from time to time he got on the nerves of his companions. In the ÷ ÷ VOLUME 21, 1962 ll9 novitiate he is more or less forgotten, for the smarter city boys leave him in the shadows. They take in with ease and naturalness everything that he had to fight hard for with an unremitting labor which had in turn cut him off from his modest origins. He can no longer play the role into which he had thrown all his energy. He has lost his place in society. He becomes depressed, grows still more ambi-tious in doing the Work of the novitiate, and becomes over sensitive to the least remarks of others. As for John-Paul, the role he wishes to play in life can be adequately summed up as that of an important priest, very esteemed by his people. Already at college he had to be first in the class to get admiration; and later, feeling himself crowded too closely by the other students, he plunged himself into extracurricular activities for the same reason. But the novitiate, the first step toward the realization of his identity as a priest, becomes a place of frustration and crisis. There he is far from college where he played a role of the highest rank and equally far from a friend whose affection gave him a sense of personal value. Here no one knows him. Hence his homesickness. During meditation he thinks of his friend, of past times, especially of those scenes in which he played an eminent role; or else he thinks of the future, he sees himself in the pulpit as a preacher. Evidently John-Paul is hypersensitive to the impression which he makes on the other novices; for example, in his reading at table. He takes great care with his hair, gives it a real coiffure, and contemplates himself in the mirror. b) Entry into the novitiate not only deprives the sub-ject of a part of his previous identity, but the community also wishes to change the candidate who comes to it in order to make him into a man who bears the community'.~ image and likeness; in other words, a religious with the spirit of his order. It is far from accepting the candidate as he is. The community has quite fixed ideas about what its members ought to become. Certain aspects of the nov-ice's previous identity, therefore, are necessarily destined for elimination while others must be developed to a more considerable degree. This is a changing of habits with its intellectual accompaniment--indoctrination. The conditions necessary for all indoctrination are (see Erikson, Young Man Luther [New York: Norton, 1958], p. 134): Isolation from the exterior world: family, friends, the old environment. Restriction of the sources of sensory stimulation and an immense value-increase in the power of words. The elimination of all private life, emphasis being placed on common life. Common devotion to the leaders who constitute and represent the community. The novitiate is a closed society; no influence is toler-ated there which would compromise the work of reforma-tion and indoctrination. Consequently no girls, no going out, no radio and television,.rio~,p6cket moridy~V~i~y~ ~ew visits. As for papers and magazines, only the more pious and serious ones will be allowed, In order to occupy the mind of the novice now emptied of worldly concerns, it is filled with spiritual teaching. So that he may be put on. the right road, the candidate is submitted to a daily pro-gram that is rigorous and unchanging and thateventually forms his mind as drops of water wear away stone. He is required to judge his own failings in the twice-daily ex-aminations of conscience. He may have no other company than that of the people who embody or partake of the desired ideal: the master of novices, his assistant, the other novices; there is no other model with whom he may iden-tify. The novitiate is, then, a dosed society in which the voice of indoctrination reverberates like an echo in an empty cave. For a change so profound must be brought about in the young man that once he has set out into the world upon his apostolic mission his' new identity must be the one which prevails over all previous attachments. He must himself become a representative and an incarnation of the spirit of his institute. That the "old man" feels uneasy in this hothouse should not be surprising. For example: Brother Yves states that: the isolation from people causes me some trouble, for I feel the need to be fully accepted as I am and also to be understood . My greatest fear about religious life and particularly about common life is that I may cease to be myself in order to fall into line. I fear a conformity in which all would be superficial and artificial, in which nothing would be assimilated, made per-sonal. I do not desire conformity, uniformity, stoic equanimity in my life. Here we discover an interesting difference between the two novitiates we have studied. In one, spiritual forma-tion is much more intense than in the other. The novices give reports of their spiritual progress to the master of novices, who follows and directs them very closely. The other master of novices, on the contrary, is a proponent of less exacting methods. In the "tight" novitiate, certain of the young men regressed to a point that was not reached by comparable novices in the more relaxed novitiate. Their crisis was more violent, for inevitably the less ac-ceptable aspects of their old identity were attacked with greater force. c) A third cause of the identity crisis in the novitiate ¯ comes from the fact that the previous ideas of the young man about the community of his choice are rarely real- 4. 4. 4. Identity Crisis VOLUME 21, 1962 121 ÷ ÷ ÷ 1¥. 4~ Bo~t, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 17.2 istic. Most often they are based on an idealized image of certain members of the community whom he knew before he entered either personally or through reading. He may imagine that every Franciscan is a Poverello, every Jesuit a Teilhard da Chardin, and every Dominican a Sertil-langes. He wishes to become like them. But he finds out very quickly that most of the members of the religious community are far from being the incarnation of this ideal, and then the novice frequently wonders whether his place is in the institute he has chosen, since it is of so little help to growth in his present identity. When Brother Irenaeus triumphantly ascertains that certain of the old fatheks do not practice what is demanded of the novices, his pride and his mistrust are the means by which he pro-tects his own high ideal. Francis, on the other hand, criti-cizes his fellow novices: they should be more perfect. He can't understand why they should be looking out the win-dow, why they should quarrel, or why they slip apples into their pockets after dinner to eat them in .their rooms. All this is personally disgusting to him. "If they entered religion to act like that . " And he is sorry that "medi-ocrity is not only found in the world, but also in the cloister." His excessive criticism is a means of defending himself against the temptation to do what they are doing, a temp-tation which is inadmissible because of a too rigid con-science. d) Finally, most communities have a great number of ministries to perform. It is often the decision of superiors which determines what role will later be assigned to the novice; whether he will be a missionary, a professor of apologetics, a parish priest, a teacher of the young, or the treasurer of the house. For one who has set his heart on the role of missionary, for example, obedience may create from the novitiate on a climate of uncertainty, a doubt about the possibility of realizing his role in life, his iden-tity. For we must not forget that one's identity is a synthe-sis of all one's previous development and hence it is not changed as one changes clothes. The novice ought, never-theless, to leave himself open to the possibility that the vow of obedience may make altogether a different thing of his life than what he thought. So it is that John-Paul wonders whether his superiors will let him go to the mis-sion where "the pagans, once converted to the faith of the gospel, will know better than the people of this coun-try the value of a priest." For he seeks everywhere the love and security he has up till now not found, and it was this quest which impelled him toward the priesthood. These four inevitable factors provoke an identity crisis in the novice which can go just "short of psychotic dis-sociation" (Erikson, Young Man Luther, op. cit., p. 134). This is a kind of fragmentation of the ego, a breakdown of the personality synthesis in a clash with the new en-vironment. The breach which the impact of this environ-ment makes in the synthesis is always located at its weakest point; that is, in certain conflicts Of the past Which Were poorly dealt with. In this serise,, the novitiate,brlngg .OUt the worst in oneself; the combined pressure of competition, adaptation to the level of the environment and the very rigid mode of life causes even the smallest weakness in the identity of the novice to burst fortl~. Beginners' Faults as Dimensions of the Crisis We can now parallel" the faults of beginners with Erik-son's eight dimensions of the identity crisis; for, according to our thesis, these faults are their equivalents in the re-ligious domain. As a matter of fact, it is not only the sogial life of the candidate which is troubled, but his spiritual life; all the more so since this constitutes the principal content of the life of the group and its members. We re-peat, we are studying the spiritual life here only under its psychological aspect and not at all under its theological aspect. a) Loss of perspective, the first of the dimensions of the identity crisis, betrays itself on the spiritual plane by a lack of patience, by a failure to apprehend that religious development has both its heights and its depths as does any other human evolution. This quest for the immediate is evident in spiritual gluttony and in its counterpart, dis-taste for spiritual realities when they do not procure a sensible satisfaction. It is equally to be found in those who wish. to push precipitously ahead. In his spiritual life Brother Mark seeks the love and consolation he did not receive enough of when he was little. In high school he created an environment for him-self which answered more or less adequately to his needs. But the change of environment deprives him of this sup-port and obliges him.to seek it elsewhere, in God. He seeks "the divine presence, a mysterious presence which I try to locate in myself without success. Each of my members dis-covers new sensations at this moment.". But when the quest does not succeed, "I feel a kind of di~sgust without reason or apparent motive. At such times Jesus does not seem to satisfy me; I thirst for something else too vague to be men-tioned or clearly defined." For Andrew, the need to rush ahead and a false apostolic zeal arose when common life and the demands of the no-vitiate for a change in his habits simultaneously reinforced a precocious superego and the unacceptable impulseg he was trying to harness] The unrealistic demands proper to these last two "imperfections" cause this novice not to feel at home with his less demanding comrades and his father ÷ ÷ ÷ Identity Crisis VOLUME 21~ 1962 ÷ W. de Bont, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS master who are themselves far from accepting with benev-olence this excess of zeal. To novices who have such difficulties the religious com-munity provides a helpful balancing factor in the per-spective of the future it opens to them. They are told of the various stages of the spiritual life; in the religious life there is a step-by-step education over several years (no-vitiate, philosophical and theological studies, ordina-tion.). There is a daily program set up in detail and firmly enforced. Finally, the candidate is promised cer-tain success in this world or in the next if he perseveres. b) Lack of assurance manifests itself in all those im-perfections which seek to hide certain defects by an im-moderate reaction: excessive shame for faults, a too literal adherence to the rules, indiscrete mortifications. Two ex-amples have already been given (B~'others Irenaeus and Francis). The novitiate offers the novices a provisional protection against their initial clumsiness in the unifor-mity it imposes in observances, clothing, spirituality. With this protection the novice is able to regain little by little the confidence in himself which was upset by the causes listed above. c) Pusillanimity in the spiritual life can be considered a failure to experiment with various roles; and certain forms of jealousy (of the progress of others) and of hypo-chondria (in connection with fasting, for example) can be considered as derivatives of Oedipal conduct. So it was that Henry, who was not able to identify with his dead father in order to attain, at least in his imagination, a superiority over his brothers which would give him a spe-cial title to the love of fiis mother, wished to carry on his apostolate in such a way that "after my departure people will forget completely that I was ever around, and that it was I who handled mattersY Fearing competition he does not dare to push himself forward. By always doing exacdy as the others, by effacing himself, he denies that he is dif-ferent, jealous, guilty of favoritism. In this case, the novitiate tries above all to encourage him to attempt one role, that of the apprentice religious. The novitiate is nothing else but an initiation into this role, begun with the taking of the habit as an exterior sign of the status which will be had henceforth in the com-munity and continued every day in the life of the novice. d) Paralysis about work clearly reveals itself in the dif-ficulties which the novice has from time to time in his spirit.ual exercises, meditation, examination of conscience, recitation of the Breviary. For Henry, for example, exami-nations of conscience remain at the surface of his person-ality. He fears lest his jealousy and anxiety come to the surface. Religious educators do everything in the noviti- ate to allow positive fulfillment, by teaching the novice suitable methods for achieving success in this domain. e) Lack of identity or confusion of roles manifests itself in a vague feeling of not b.eing at home in the novitiate, by nostalgia for the past, by the impo.ssibility of finding a place and a role in the communi~y: Examples Were" given above. The novitiate seeks to remedy this by encouraging the recruit to identify with his community by proposing to him in an exclusive way the spirit of the congregation or the order. f) Bisexual confusion manifests itself by all sorts of dif-ficulties with sex: the sexualization of religious life, for example, in sexual impulses at the moment of communion or confession; in particular friendships unddr the cloak of a spiritual relationship; in scruples about ~bad thoughts." Brother Guy, for example, transfers to Christ and St. John his tender feelings about a friend whom he has left in the world: You must have embraced very tenderly, as gently as do two beloved people spontaneously when one has acquired the other's special admiration; when one wishes to protest more deeply his profound joy in and friendly respect for the other. I would have liked to spend with the two of you those long evenings beneath the stars, as I had the happiness to spend them with James, speaking no doubt of Your ambitions, become those of Jol~n s~nce You loved him so tenderly, and he loved You. This transfer is meant to fill the void left by the impos-sibility of continuing an earthly friendship. What the novice should learn here, with the help of his spiritual director, is to renounce the exercise of his sex-ual faculty while at the same time .developing his manli-ness. This is impossible unless this renunciation is in-spired by valid and for the most part conscious motives ("for the kingdom.of God'i)and as little as possible af-fected by fear, shame, distaste, or guilt. g) The lack of reasonable attitudes with respect to au-thority is expressed by a crowd of symptoms: an extrava-gant docility, revolt against authority, a kind of freezing up in relations with superiors; too great a zeal to convert others where the aim is much more to resolve one's own problems than to help one's neighbor. 'Michael, for ex-ample, is so docile as to worry the master of novices some-what. He wants to be told what to do; he never resists; he has the spirit of. sacrifice; anything may be asked of him. If he is nettled, he gives a start and then merely smiles. His spiritual ideal is~ complete abandonment to God. He wishes to forget himself in order to be concerned only for God and His interests. Michael is a young man Whose mother thwarted him in his desire :for masculine inde-pendence. At the conscious level he submitted but uncon-sciously he rebelled against her. In the novitiate obedience 4. 4. Identity Crisis 1~5 4- REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is a most important matter and there are very few possi-bilities for aggressivity (for example, sports) left open to him. His problem, then, is accentuated. It may be under-stood, then, that for him God and the master of novices are conceived after the image of his mother. Peter's sense of his priestly mission still has "some end other than a supernatural one." The reason for this is that by a slightly megalomaniac identification with pater-nal authority, of which he makes himself the prophet, he is protecting himself against a feeling of persecution. The image he has of his father is split into two, and his feelings are equally divided. Everything good about his father is projected into God, everything bad into the devil. Accord-ingly, to save the world by his apostolate means in fact to preserve the connection with the good parent (God) and to eliminate the bad (the devil). Since the novitiate is a completely masculine society and at the 'same time by it.~ nature demands obedience, it further accentuates the con. flicts about sexuality and authority which underlie thi:~ apostolic identity (according to psychoan.alytic theory, the paranoid personality is rooted in homosexualized relation-ships with the father, the representative of authority in the family); but at the same time it makes the experience o[ the apostolate impossible for the time being. One may not go out during .the novitiate, and so the balance of forces in Peter is upset. The master of novices will have the difficult task of teaching the novices the just mean between the docility of a sheep and revolt at the barricades, as in the case of the novice who barricaded his door when the superior knocked to get him to rise (he always got up late). To give the novices certain opportunities for leadership frora the novitiate on may contribute to the development of the orientation which is desirable in this domain. h) Finally, a confusion of ideals is the most obvious thing about the novices who do not yet know whether they want to stay or leave the novitiate to return to the world or who hesitate to choose among several communities, Brother Mark has grave doubts about his perseverance because he is torn between a "worldly" past made entic-ing by the admiration he commanded at school and tile frustrations of his present conventual life caused by the lack of tenderness and esteem received from others. Spir-itual training here seeks to take away all ambivalence by presenting the novice with the ideology of his order and excluding all other ideologies (newspapers are ban-ishedl). A certain simplification results from this which sometimes becomes a caricature; one novice will think he is living the "pure gospel" because he walks .around in sandals as the apostles did; another will think he has found the perfect balance between contemplation and action because in his community Compline is sung in common before sleep. When the new identity of the nov-ice is sufficiently established, this simplification will no longer be necessary. Psychologically speaking, the faults of beginners are merely attempts to maintain'. Or to reestablish 15rovision-ally the psychic equilibrium which has been upset by the impact of the environment, an impact which has struck the novice at the weakest points of his former identity. As Father Mailloux has said, they are not "typically pathological reactions per se, but rather.irrational modes of expression, upon which the psychic apparatus will normally fall back whenever an individual is unable to cope with a stressful situation in some rational man-ner" (Rev. Noel Mailloux, O.P., "Sanctity and the Prob-lem of Neurosis," Pastoral Psychology, 10 [February, 1959], 40). For in successful cases the novice readjusts; he incorporates the identity elements offered him by the religious environment into the best which his identity al-ready has and gets rid of the less acceptable elements. Having provoked the crisis, a well-directed novitiate helps also to heal it. And once the adaptation is made and the novice has regained his place, this time in the community of his choice, his beginner's faults disappear like hay fever when the season has passed. In less successful cases, there is a failure. Concord be-tween' the identity of the novice and the demands or the support of the environment remains impossible: The reasons may come from two quarters: a lack of flexibility in the subject consequent upon an identity too charged with conflict as with the brother of the barricades cited above who left his community a little later,, or on the part of the community which is unable to Offer the novice the place which he seeks for his gifts and his particular abilities as in that sufficiently large novitiaite where .eighty percent of the novices left because of a master of novices still living spiritually in the nineteenth' century. The shock was the greater for them as their previous educa-tion was the more liberal. Conclusion We have studied in this article the psychological side of this night of the senses which the novitiate arouses by its very nature. By uprooting the candidate from his for-mer environment, it deprives him of the support which his identity enjoyed before in order to invite him to a higher spiritual balance. Our perspective, it is true, has been a restricted one; we have described only what the novitiate may have in common with any identity crisis studied by the psychologist. On this plane, the crisis of the novice resembles that of a young man who prepares 4. ÷ Identity Crisis VOLUME 21, 1962 W. de Bo~t, 0~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ]28 himself for army service at West Point, or who leaves hi.q small-town home to go to a large, university--although course the crisis has a different content according as concerns military formation, the situation of a student, or religious training---celibacy and examinations of con-science do not figure largely in a military perspective. For methodological reasons we have left aside that which con~ .stitutes the very essence of the life of the novitiate: the introduction to the life of consecration to God to which by His grace He has invited the novice. It is this properly spiritual aspect which masters of novices are best ac-quainted with, and they can guide themselves in this by a solidly established spiritual theology. Our only inten-tion has been to draw their attention to the psychological side of this introduction to sanctity, a side which it 'is better not to be totally ignorant of. The "follies" of nov-ices should not be seen as faults which are exclusively in the moral order, as pride, for example, considered as the capita) sin. There is question rather of provisional, and unsuccessful efforts to adapt oneself to a new situation; hence they are normal phenomena which always arise under one form or another when a man must remake the synthesis of his personality. Nevertheless, they are real difficulties and not imaginary, often very painful for the subject who undergoes them and annoying for those around him. The wisdom of an alert master of novices will assuage much of this human pain, and this the more so as he knows better the identity of the novice in ques. tion, with its strong points and its weak. This present article is limited to describing the iden-tity crisis of the novice. It does not pretend to furnish the elements of a possible prognostication. If almost all nov, ices undergo this crisis in some degree or other, how, among so many of the "imperfect," can those who will persevere be singled out from those who will leave or merely mark time for the rest of their lives? This is an important question, for the novitiate terminates with a profession which, even though it be temporary, repre-sents a real and very profound commitment. Certain re-marks of St. John of the Cross (Dark Night, 1, 9) coukl provide us with a point of departure for such a consid- ¯ eration; but this task must be reserved to a later article. PAUL W. O'BRIEN, S.J. Introducing the Young Sister to Prayer One of the problems facing the young sister is learning to pray. She h~is probably been pra

Issue 45.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1986. ; Vocation Ministry A Sociological View of Commitment Religious and Secular Institutes Imagination Within the Act of Faith Volume 46 Number 2 March/April, 1986 REvIEw FOR REI,IGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at'Room 428:3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. REVIEW EOt~ REI.IGIOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, M O © 1986 by REVIEW FOR RELtGIOOS. Composed. printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A. $ I 1.00 a year; $20.00 for two years. Other countries: add $4.00 per year (postage). Airmail (Book Rate) $18.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS: P.O. 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Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY I0010. The Vowed Life in a Secularized World Desmond O'Donnell, O M.I. Father O'Donnell's earlier "Focused Freedom: To Someone in Formation"appeared in the issue of January/February, 1985. He is a General Councillor for his community and, though often on the road, may be addressed at its Generalate: Oblati di Maria; C.P. 9061; 00100 Roma Aurelia, Italy. ouring out a plethora of easy answers to complex questions does not bring us any closer to permanent solutions. Neither is it helpful to offer a new one-word solution for everything taking place in the Church at this time. And yet secularization might be a useful umbrella-word ~,to explain much, of what is taking place both, to the Church and to the vowed life today. If it is in fact found to be a satisfactory seminal term, it will also help us to focus rather than to diffuse our response. It can aid the process of discernment. Situating the Question The good news about our way of life is that a deep spiritual renewal is being experienced by many and that the importance of prayer is being rediscovered. There has been a notable updating in theology and real--if not always successful--attempts to build authentic faith-communities. There also is a growing freedom and practice of discernment about our apostolates and about our private lives as well. There is other news which does not' seem so obviously good, such as the large numbers who left us, the small numbers joining and the increasing median age. In some places, community life is moving towards becoming politely-shared space, enclosing many unspoken polarizations about deep realities among us. Authority has tended to go from heavy-handedness to 161 "i69/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 ¯ laissez-faire and so consensus about anything of serious communal signifi-cance is often hard to come by. Governments gradually move in to take over our institutions, either because we have chosen to let them or because they have helped themselves. The degree to which all this is related to secularization is disputable, but related it is, and I will try to show why this is so. Before we go into this, may I look at some more personal experiences of vowed people in most countries today--experiences which I think are related to secularization even more deeply than those mentioned above. Many of us have been through more or less severe vocational question-ing of some kind in recent years, because the rationale of our way Of life did not seem capable of answering the questions popping up all around us. Maybe it was triggered off by simply seeing one of our now-married novitiate companions do equally good apostolic work and do it well. It may also have been that we grew tired of mobility, or just vaguely short of motivation for the continual questioning of our chosen lifestyle. Many of us have found some new difficulties in prayer, as God seemed to withdraw and leaqe the world to evil pebple. Or maybe the emergence of so many small friendship-groups has left us out in the cold called "com-munity life." The variety of new prayer-forms and so many seminars, have a way of increasing our desire for some stability and wondering if it might not be found elsewhere, In response to'all of this, many felt the growing ambiguities and endless updating led them to personal selectivity in belief and practice. Others moved to the edge~of the storm by choosing some form of fundamentalism or an atheism' which expressed itself in mere social horizontalism while still remaining in the ~3ongregation. Some of us chose to becom~ left-wing unloving critics of the present and others moved to become right-wing uncritical lovers of the past, as the middle ground grew unpopular and became such a solitary exprience. These deeper and more personal phenomena~ are related to modernization and secularization too, as I will try to demonstrate. And so the response to these experiences, might first be to understand the meaning of modernization and the resultihg secularization-experience. Modernization The amount of knowledge in the world continues to increase because of constant research and it is rapidly diffused through very efficient communicatioh systems. Modernization is what happens when the knowledge is~ transferred into technology, which then has ~increasing and unforeseeable effects on economic growth, on social systems and on political decisidns. Inevitably the individual too is affected in his or her The Vowed Life in a Secularized World / 165 values, attitudes, beliefs and behavior. Most of us remember the discovery of plastic 'in the 40s, of the transistor in the 50s, of computers in the 60s, of microcomputers in .the 70s and now we observe technology move forward into genetic engineering in the 80s. All of these have affected people and systems in serious and often irreversibl~e ways. This march of modernization shows no signs of slowing down and often appears to have its own~self-propelled, autonomous momentum. It took one hundred twelve years for photography to go from discovery to commercial product, fifty-six for the telephone, thirty-five for the radio, fifteen for radar, twelve for television and only five for transistors to find their way from the laboratory into the market. Again, as each of these products comes on the market, it touches--and in the case of genetic engineering, tampers with human nature and human systems in often lastingly significant ways, It is with the human effects of modernity that we are concerned and these are sometime.s good, sometimes evil, and often ambiguous. Moder-nity can lead to human community and comfort,-.or to pollution and poverty for millions; it can facilitate or disrupt human values; it can enrich °a poor country or steal its unrenewable sources of energy; it can help in the diffusion of truth or of lies through the media and it can pass on productive information or child,pornography. In each of our .lives it can .make the superfluous become the convenient, ~the convenient become the necessary and the necessary become the indispensable, thus changing human nature itself. ~ Peter Berger's definition summarizes, all this: "Modernization is the transformation of the world, brought about by the technological innova-tions of the last few centuries having economic, social and political dimen-sions all immense in scope." With many otherwriters he goes on to outline the many very,personal effects resulting from the economic, social, political ones in his definition, Secularization is a very significant one of these. Secularization It is important to stress that we are not talking here about secularism which is a theory, an ideology denying the existence of God or at least his action and relevance in the world. Nor is secularization .to be equated with atheism when in fact it might be the very opposite experience for many who are desperately trying to hold on toGod who seems to be withdrawing from them. And certainly it would be simplistic to think that secularization is the same as materialism, Secularization is claimed to.be more a fact than a theory, a reality more than an ideology, a process taking place more than.a point of view. While it "i64/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 can lead to secularism, materialism, or atheism, it is in fact none of these. Some religious people find words like secularism, materialism and atheism convenient labels for what is happening in the Church or in_the vowed life today and it may be a description in some cases, but it is not addressing the deeper and more pervasive reality we call secularization. Secularization manifests itself when explanations of reality previously attributed to mythical or religious sources, are shown to have .rational ones, as when the~scientist takes over from the witch doctor, the. psychologist assumes some previously priestly functions or when a technological discovo ery,disintegrates a theological theory. A group of Animists in Java lost their gods a few years ago when a new seismographic station began to foretell and explain volcanic eruptions more accurately than the local holy man, The Diak people of Borneo lost their fear of and their belief in their forest gods when bulldozers razed the jungle. For some people, the study of a good theology of providence could have a similar effect. These people are experiencing secularization. In a similar way, many modern Christians first felt uncomfortable and then felt their faith questioned by a good church-history book, an accurate TV documentary, a skilled psychiatrist, two men on the moon, an old law proven pointless, a church authority found unworthy, a symbol disappear-ing or a culture collapsing~-all more or less the result of modernization. The resulting discomfort and questioning within the individual person, is close to the secularization-experience. It is an experience of no longer having one overall reference-point--a feeling of increasing disintegration. If you are experiencing that somehow God is withdrawing because religious explanations are increasingly less necessary, that the quantum of the secular is increasing at the expense of the sacred, that maybe~ God is now less necessary as a postulate for human living or that because of modern evidence your longheld experience of God is no longer a comfort-able one, you are probably undergoing the pressure of the secularization-experience. This is not a decisionnor even a desire to become an atheist; even if it could lead to it. Nor is it necessarily the result of "giving in" to materialism or to less-than-moral behavior, admitting, of course, that both of these can easily increase its momentum. If you are not undergoing the experience of secularization, then it is still important to uiaderstand it, because most of the peopl~ you are trying to evangelize, especially in the developed world, are probably experiencing it. It is from this fact that the present great missiological question arises--how announce the Good News of Jesus Christ to a secularized world? Moderni-zation and its result in secularization are now recognized as cultures, new cultures, ever-changing cultures and it is at this point that we recognize the The Vowed l_Jfe in a Secularized World / 165 break between faith and culture today. Thus for the modern person, secularization is a feelin~ of dissonance in .trying to hold together what is happening in the world and what the Bible seems to say about God's providence or what is often said in churches and what is taking place in real life around us. It results in discomfort with one's present experience of God. Any naive belief in the immediacy of God will be challenged .by secularization and modernity. Old fashioned god-words and some ecclesiastical jargon will appear increasingly irrelevant to sincere secularized persons everywhere. Secularization can be defined as the grad-ual disappearance of mythical and religious legitimations or explanations of society. Living with the ambiguities of the secularization-experience leads to a temptation to take refuge in fundamentalism which can be described as believing more and more in less and less in order to feel secure, or in agnosticism which is a lazy neither-nor ~land excusing one from the strug-gles, doubts and decisions which are part of any faith. Let us now try to analyze the challenge and opportunity which secularization offers the vowed life. The Vowed Life For the vowed life, secularization can be a deep call and a deep grace. Lumen Gentium calls us to enrich, challenge, encourage and stimulate the Church by our lives and our action (Par. 44). This is all the more reason why we must study, understand and give a gospel response to seculariza-tion, to a secularized world. Because secularization implies change at so many levels of human existence, we should recall that sociologists stress the vital importance of internal consistency for all groups in time of change. This internal consis-tency- our basic authenticity measured against what we claim to be--is now a matter of survival. Institutions which lack internal consistency are likdy to disappear in tim~s of rapid change, especially if their external image is also unclear. For these reasons, we who profess the vowed life must address the phenomenon and the grace of secularization. May I suggest that there are five areas where God might well be speaking to us in all this? ~ansmitting a New Integrating Presence of God Secularization, as we saw, forces us to find a new presence of God, a presence which permeates, integrates, energizes for action and which brings human and divine values into secular realities. Karl Rahner spoke of the vowed woman as having a profession which has no justification from the "166 / Review for :Religious, March-April, 1986 secular point of view even if she performs many useful secular tasks. What then might her iprofession and that of vowed men be? It is surely--as it always was--to give or rather to share with people their own experience of God. This is a demanding task; it demands that we each have such an experience first of all. We will have to pass on "so.mething which we have seen with our own eyes, that we have watched and touched with our own .hands" (1 Jn l:l'b) and it will be vital that "in Christ we speak as men of sincerity, as envoys of God and in God's presence" (2 Co 2:17), It seems to be a call to discover and lead in a new integrating mysticism as this quote from John Macquarie expresses: ¯ It is interesting to note that Bonhoeffer, though he advocated a 'worldly' Christia°nity, made it 'perfectly explicit that the kind of w0rldline~ss that he had in mind has nothing to do with the immersion in"material pursuits and enjoyments that we commonly associate with the "worldly' man. Bon-hoeffer makes a :statement that ought to be'pondered by those who invoke his support for a thoroughly secularized Christianity. He says: 'In Christ we are offered the possibility of partaking in the reality'of God and in the reality of the world, but not in the one without the other The reality of God discloses itself only by setting me entirely in the reality of the world, and when I encounter the reality of the world, it is always already sus-tained: accepted and reconciled in the reality of God.' There is a dialectic here that takes us beyond any naive world affirmation, just as it rules out any false religiosity. God,is met in the world, but the world is known in its reality only as Grd's world? Back in 1970, Karl Rahner wrote: Maybe we [he was addressing his own Society] ourselves have been super-f! cialized by the consumer society. Maybe we ourselves have not come to any original experience of God. Maybe we have not taken .the .trouble to let others participate in the mystical technique leading.to such an expe-rience. If all that is the case, we have of course, no alternative but to take refuge in a secular horizontalism which tries to interpret and live our own lives on the same level . The coming thing is the spiritual dimension, the experience of God, the taste of eternity no matte~ how valid our social involvement (with ~regard to which we have a terrible'lot to make up). The coming thing is sober peace, in face of all the absurdity of existence, the absurdity which no social involvement will spirit away. That rather bour-geois- chequered spirituality which was found--to outward appearances at least--in the orders before the first world war and which influenced reli-gious life too much~ may belong to the past and the young may say rightly that it is useless.from the start. But a new spirituality in religious life and in the Church will be assured of a real future. Whatever form this new spirituality will have, it must surely~be a very 7he Vowed life in a Secularized Worm personal "faith in the Son of God who loved me and who sacrificed himself for my sake" (Ga 2:20) and a very integrating one, enabling us to "bring everything together~ under Christ" (Ep 1:10). This--it seemsto me--is the most serious challenge which secularization puts to vowed communities today. Integration Through Reflection As we saw, one of the deepest effects of secularization is disintegration. There is no longer any one overarching human legitimation for the think-ing person today. We, even as vowed people, stand and struggle side by side with the modem person in loneliness, doubts, fears' and feelings of disinte-gration. We too are among the "new poor." The third world is closer to us than we think; it is inside our shirts especially if we have already chosen the still greater poverty of fundamentalism with iis moral, dogmatic and spirit-ual naivet6 and ~elitism. We are, however, expected to .stand with our fellow Christians in seren-ity and in a "peace which the world cannot give" (Jfi 14:27). We stand with them in a spirit of confidence too, as Jesus did with his disciples, when for him and for them everything seemed lost; "I have told you all this so that you may find peace in me. In the world you will have trouble, but be brave; I have overcome the world" (Jn 16:23). Only a life of prayer can discover and sustain this peace, this joy in the midst of a secularizing experience. Jesus led a busy life and had constant calls on his service, but we find the source of his power in the actual physical withdrawal, to be with God: "His reputation continued to grow and large crowds would gather to hear him and to have their sickness cured but ~he would always go away to some place to be alone and pray" (Lk 15:16). The form of prayer for today would seem to be what Macquarie calls "prayer as thinking";5 it is a prayer.which reflects on what God is doing in the world more than on what he,has done in scriptural times, without of course neglecting this latter. It is a praye~: which keeps our spiritual faculties alive. All reality, especially fast-changing or disintegrated reality~ is opaque and this is especially true in the m6dern world when ambiguity is part of life everywhere. We need to sharpen our spiritual eyesight to see what Bonhoffer described as the "holy depths" of.things and events. It is not so much a prayer "giving us time to refuel, but a prayer'which gives us increased awareness for better and deeper involvement and which motivates us for the human task of offering the world salvation from '~'everything that oppresses the.human person especially sin and the .evil one" (EN n. 9). Lest we ourselves succumb to the burnout of compulsive activity or the dropout of ceaseless seminars this life of "prayer as thinking" 1611/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 seems essential. . A long time ago, Christopher Dawson observed: "Men today are divided between those who have kept their spiritual roots and lost their contact with the existing order of society, and those who have preserved their social contacts and lost their spiritual roots." Could this be a descrip-tion of vowed persons today? Relativization of All Reality ~ I read somewhere that the Talmud says we will be held accountable to God for all the legitimate pleasures we have not enjoyed. When all this is said and dqne, there still remains the fact that so many of life's legitimate-- or even essential--pleasures are denied millions today, in even our devel-oped world. There also stands the fact that "we have not here a lasting city" (Heb 1:3:14) ahd that we possess only the certaintY of Christian hope: "We have a sure hope and the promise of an inheritance that can never be spoilt or soiled and never fade away because it is being kept for you in the heavens" (1 P 3:4). One part of our mission is to keep.Christian hope clearly before people and thus relativize reality, both good and evil. Secularization or not, the human person has a tendency to appropriate goods, material and spiritual, to hold them closely and even to be possessed by them. Our lives if they are lived in the simplicity and detachment which we .profess, will relativize the enjoyment or deprivation of material things and remind others that t.hey are to be shared: "Warn those who are rich in this world's goods, that they are not to look down on other people and not to set their hopes on money which is untrustworthy but on God, who out of his riches, gives us all that we need for our happiness. Tell them that they are to do good and be rich in good works, to be generous and willing to share"(l Tm 6:17,18). We can do this "telling" by our lifestyle, before we do it in words, the opportunity for which may never come our way. We also speak to the poor enabling them to relativize their desire for justice and to recall that while they struggle for their rights, there isan opportunity for growth in their poverty too. "Listen, my dear brothers, it was those who are poor accord, ing to the world that God chose to be rich in faith and to be heirs to the kingdom which he promised to those who love him" (Jm 2:5). Modernization has created so many who are enduring forced celibacy through broken marriages or infidelity and who are still avalanched by the media's sexual imperative. We can support these people even without speaking, because our lives experience the same yearnings and our minds are exposed to the same urgings and yet we struggle successfully on, with-out the assurance of genital involvement. But all this depends on our Vowed ~'fe in a Secularized World / 169 manifesting balanced and happy personalities, as people who have inte-grated their relationships and their sexuality in a healthy way. For secular-ized persons--many of whom suffer from confused psychosexuality--we can be supportive signs of survival and of fulfilled happiness through our lived celibacy. Individualism is a mark of the secularized person, coming very often as it does from hurt, insecurity and alienation. This can be so in our own communities too. The insecure person lives ambivalently between a desire to be accepted through cooperation and a fear of being dominated by submission. This is part of the disintegrating experience of modern life. If alienation is the pathology of our age, individualism is one of its clearest manifestations. By our vow of obedience lived out and seen not as "doing what one is told" but as discernment of what is best leadership in and through a caring community, we have much to say to the modern person about finding his or her own best expression of self in a confused world. It is even humanly true that "none of us is as wise as all of us." The secularized person, tempted to extreme individualism needs to rediscover this; for the good of ¯ families, local groups and for national and international survival, o Process.and Pilgrimage , It is clear that we vowed people will not be on the edge of the human experience of secularization and its consequential feeling of disintegration much longer. We share with men and women everywhere their search for stability and for lost certainties as the river of secularization tries to move all of us up, down and forward. To an extent, we found ourselves insulated from the human condition until recently, but no longer. Even if it were. not through necessity, we know that if we are to hold conversation with and to evangelize the world, we must pitch our tents within it; as God did. We must be prepared to pilgrimage our way once again and enter into the human process which we'should never have deserted. The fact that we accept this, will help so many others who find it difficult and who drop out into drugs or other forms of anomie and despair. Again, our vows lived authentically prepare us for the pilgrimage, ready us to keep moving, because we have publicly professed not to hold on, not to settle and not to be held. By our lived poverty, we refuse to be possessed by any material consideration and by our vows of chastity we also refuse to be possessed by ahy relationship. Obedience enables us to keep listening and looking at the map of moving events with eyes of faith and lbve. To quote Karl Rahner again from the same article: "The concrete future of Christianity, the Church and religious life remains largely hidden 17{I / Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 from us . what historical and social form the Church and ecclesial Christianity will take in the future, remains largely hidden from us., we have to fight for victory without.a prognosis of victory" (p. 136). He was not° referring tothe effects of secularization at that time, but what he wrote is truer than ever now, and it puts us side by side and hopefully hand in hand with the modern man or woman as they endure the sec-ularization- experience. Interdependence and Involvement Our communities are not islands of isolated peace in a troubled uni-verse. No, they are sources from which we. emerge to makea more human and so a more godly world. Our vows enable us to do this; having freed us from, they also free usforLin a liberating way. ~',~ Our vow of poverty truly lived, makes us free for involvement. Because we have nothing to lose, we can carry the struggle for justice .further and when our lives are skilled in dispossession, we are not open to criticism from the rich~whose lives we question for the sake of the poor. Our good news for the poor has to be in some way perceived as bad news for the rich and they will readily point to any beam or bank account in our own lives if these are obvious. Only 'by relinquishing the power of possessions .can we demonstrate our competence to communicate freedom. Our vow of chastity makes us free to keep moving and to freely ask even our close friends: "Do you want to go away too?" (Jn 6:67). Again, we can take risks which married people with concern for their,families and for each other cannot be asked to take. Obedience, as we saw, offers us a freedom to live out a ,radar-like listening to God's word in the world around us. Truth comes only with listening :and discernment and these take. place best among a group of sharing people~ Obedience is .a public statement, that we bind ourselves to listen within and are missioned by a community through its leaders. This offers a model~for others to do the same in the Church. The quality of relationships and of concern for anyone at a distance suffers greatly in this time of disintegrative secularization, as each one looks to his or her own very personal success or survival. Nations do the same. This di-ama is, played out on a smaller scale every day in the average city too. Surely our communities have something important to say to people in this bleak situation. In our public interaction with one another° and for those who visit our communities,.the prayer ot~Jesus for his whole Church must tend towards .fulfillment: "_May they all be one, Father, may they be one in us, as you are in me and I am in you, so that the world may believe it was you who sent me" (.In 17:21). The Vowed Life in a Secularized Worm / 1.71 In' conclusion, I submit that we are approaching the ideal today, as we find the vowed life standing less at a point of comfortable distance from the world and more at a point of painful dialectic with it. At this point it must be ready to say a confirming yes or a challenging no--and do this by its life and activity--to all the results of secularization. To quote .the Anglican writer, Macquarie again: Here it must be said with regret that the trouble with some of our less responsible contemporary Christian secularizers is that they have taken up the ideal of holy worldliness, but seem to have promptly forgotten the adjective and reduced the ideal to a worldly concern tout court. They tell us that Christianity is a purely secular movement, their ideal of the good life seems scarcely distinguishable from the one that is so assiduously propagated by Madison Avenue, and the more extreme among them, in their horror at any supposed 'withdrawal' from the world, come near to advocating that the time has arrived to replace "poverty, chastity, and obedience with affluence, promiscuity, and autonomy as the highest goals for human life, or even as (he new evangelical counsels! The s!ogan for all this'is that w'e sho.uld 'say yes' to the world. But I do not think thata simple world affirmatioa will either help us to find God in the world or help the world to know his presence.6 - ~ Indeed, if we are to follow the words of Lumen Gentium, Chapter VI, par 44, the vowed life must say yes and no even to the Church itself. NOTES ~Facing Up to Moflernity, New York: Basic Books, 1977, 2John Macquarie, New Directions in Theology Today, Vol. III, p. 67, Philadelphia: 1981. 3"The Future of Religious Life" in Supplement to Doctrine and Life, Dublin: Domini-can l%_blications, May, 1972. 4The Greek' word anakephalasiosastai~is used in secular literature to express the con-ceptof many different ideas being subsumed under one theme. 5John Macquarie, Paths in Spirituality, Chapter 3, SCM Press, 1980, 6Op tit 2, p. 66. Vocation Ministry: Continuing the Invitation of Jesus Thomas E. Clark, ES.C. Brother Clark, Associate Vocation Director for the Chicago Province of the Christian Brothers, sees his work to be very much a ministry. This article is based on a presenta-tion he gave to the faculties of his congregation's schools in the Chicago area. He may be addressed at his .office: 200 De La Salle Drive; Romeoville, lllinois 60441. y ~vork 'as a full'time vocation minister for my community has often given me the opportunity to speak with young people, both individually and in groups, about the experience of being called by the Lord. My message to them is nearly identical to that of hundreds of other vocation ministers: each of us is called by God, each of us has a vocation, and it is up to each of us to discover what that vocation is. Onthe surface, the message seems clear, theologically sound, and understandable. However, what I have become aware of recently is th~at, in the two years I have been deliver-ing the message that each of us is called, the feeling with which I have been delivering that message has sometimes left something to be desired. Rather than offering a challenge to the young people with whbm I speak--a ch~allenge to discover a meaningful and significant way of living the Gospel ¯ in today's world--I've often felt that I am offering instead an apology for the choices I have made. It is as though the challenge of the Gospel might be just a little too naive for today's world, and to invite anyone to take it seriously may seem foolish and unrealistic. And even more foolish might be the invitation of young people to consider religious life and Church ministry as real options for themselves, ways of living out the Gospel challenge. I would certainly be out of touch with reality, I sometimes feel,-if I were to think that these people sitting in front of me--healthy, normal, 172 Vocation Ministry American young adults might consider religious life and Church ministry as serious-options for themselves. Thus when I speak with them, my invitation is sometimes clouded over with justifications ("I'm here today simply to make you aware of some choices I've made"), or sprinkled with "escape clauses" ("Any career you choose can be ministry"). The'underlying message, of course, is "I don't really expect you to consider any of these things for yourself." (In citing the above examples, of justification and "escape clauses," I do not mean to imply that there is no place in vocation ministry for "awareness education" or for a broad understanding of minis-try and community. On the contrary, these two approaches are essential to vocation ministry. They do not, however, constitute the whole of vocation ministry, and are sometimes used to avoid its more challenging aspect: that of invitation.) In speaking with a number of religious who are involved in vocation ministry, I have discovered that they, too, have much the same experience at times. Put simply, there are times when I do not believe there are any people who would be open to considering religious life as an option for themselves. Such an attitude is easily communicated to others, though it may not be directly stated,'and has the effect of turning away anyone who may consider religious life as a personal option. Further, a religious who holds such an attitude could never extend a confident and joyful invitation to an individual to consider religious life. It is my belief that such an attitude will keep religious not just from extending invitations to people to consider religious life, but on a deeper and more fundamental level, will keep us from fulfilling the responsibility we have to call people to build the kingdom of God. It is this invitation to the kingdom which is at the heart of vocation ministry, and which I wish to explore in more detail. In doing so, I shall consider several related topics: the model of invitation which Jesus gives us in the Gospels; vocation ministry as a means of living out that model; the philosophy of vocation ministry which has emerged in recent years; and finally, the challenge which we religious have been given in regard to vocation ministry. Jesus: Model of Invitation A simple perusal of the Gospels will show that Jesus had no hesitation about inviting peopl~ to follow him. His invitations are clear and concise. There is no misunderstanding what he means; the challenge is laid out on the table and nothing is hidden: Come after me and I will make you fishers of men (Mr 5:19). Follow me (Mr 9:9). Come and see (Jn 1:39). 1"/4/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 While such invitations may have been disarming or even~ unne ,rying to his listeners, it is difficult to imagine their being misunderstood. Jesus .has asked someone'to be his follower; it is as simple as that. ~ Neither does Jesus fail to make known to his followers his expe~ctations of them. In fact, his~requirements are so clear that~ sometimes they sound almost harsh. Whoever wishes to be my follower must deny his very self, thke Up his° '~ cross each day, and follow in my steps. Whoever would save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will save it (Lk 9:23-24). ~.Let the dead bury their dead; come away and proclaim the kingdom of God (Lk 9:60). The requirements of following Jesus are great. He knows this, and does not hide this frown those whom he invites. At the same time, the invitation is issued with a certain excitement stemming from urgency of the call as well as its promise: Tliis is the tim~ of fulfillment. The reign of God is at hand! Refo~-m ~our lives and believe in the Gospel! (Mk 1":5). Go a~d sell what you have and give to the poor; you will then have treasure in heaven. After that, come and follow me (Mk 10:21). This last invitation of Jesus was issued in response to the question of the rich young man, "What must I do to share in everlasting life?" (Mk 10".17). An.d it is here that we find out why Jesus issues the invitation t[iat he does: He knows everlasting life, and wants to share that with us. Again and again, Jesus promises us the kingdom and all that goes with it: fullness of life (Jn 10:10); complete joy (Jn 17:13); knowledge of th~ true God (Jn 17:3); the freedom of the truth (Jn 8:32); his own peace (Jn 14:27); the hundredfold and ~verlasting life (Mk 10:30). Jesus knows the k.ingdom and the gifts of the kingdom, and wants that experience for those to whom he has been sent. Herein we find the motivation behind his in~vitation, his c~all to take up the cross, [o sell all our possessions, to follow him. It is becaus~ he knows it will lead to the kingdom and everlasting lye,, arid he wants nothing less for us. It is love which has produced the clear, concise and even harsh invitation we find in the Gospel. With what kind of response .did Jesus' invitation meet? The Gospels sl~ow us pictures of every kind of response imaginable: Peter and Andrew "abandoned their nets and became his followers," as did James and John (Mt 4:20-22); Matthew left his post as tax collec~tor (Mt 9:9). The rich young man went away sad because of his many possessions (Mk 10:22). In a particularl~ poignant episode ~ecorded in John's gospel, Jesus' teaching leads many of his disciples to protest and ultimately to break away from his company. On seeing this, Jesus asks the Twelve if they, too, will leave him. Vocation Ministry / 175 Peter responds, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words :of eternal life" (Jn 6:60 ff.). Thus, the responses to Jesus' invitations are many and varied, for Jesus always allowed the individual to respond freely. What is evident, however, is that Jesus never stopped inviting, no matter what kind of response he met with. For Jesus, the important thing is that everyone be invited to follow him and to proclaim the kingdom. Negative responses, while disheartening, must not keep one from continuing to:issue the call, for all people deserve the opportunity to respond to the call. It is a matter of no :smalLsignificance, I believe, that the final words of Jesus in John's gospel are: "Follow me" (Jn 21:22). Continuing the Invitation: Vocation Ministry What does this never-ending invitation mean for us religio.us? What does it tell us, not only about our own response to Jesus' call, but about the mess-age we takb to the ~vorld? We have noted that Jesus' invitation flows from his expe~rience. He knows the Father, and the life that the Father gives~ Be.cause he knows, he Can ~nvite clearly, concisely and with authority. As men and women who have made life choices for the kingdom, and who have shared, at least in part, in the life of the kingdom, we too can invite others to embrace th~ kingdom. As men and women who have clearly chosen community and. ministry in the Church, we can invite others to conside~ community and ministry in the Chhrch as optionsfor.themselves. As men and women who have experieficed joy and. peace and life in these choices, as well as hardship and even pain, we can invite with the same confidence of Jesus, for we, too, know the burden and the gifts of the kingdom. In fact, Oot only can we continue to issue the invitation of Jesus, but in a certain sense, we have a responsibility to issue that invitation. !n a world where nuclear holocaust seems imminent, where starvation is the daily experience of millions, where poverty, unemployment and illiteracy a.re the lifestyle of whole ~egments of the world population.---in such a world, we who have been given the knowledge of the kingdom have a responsibility to call others to build that kingdom. In a world where people, especially young people, are searching for meaning and significance in their lives, where many live in confusion caused by crises of every kind, where whole societies are caught in the race for economic and political superiority--in such a world, we who have been promised the everlasting life of the kingdom have a responsibility to share that gift with this world. It is not that we .are holier o.r wiser than the rest of the world. Rather, we have been given the gift ~of a vision of how things can be. It is not our vision; it is God's vision that we have been given. And because we have 176/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 been given the vision, we must also bear theresponsibility--sometimes the burdgnsome responsibility--of calling others to God's vision. As religious, we have publicly proclaimed with joy and faith our desire to be a part of the kingdom, and that desire has been accepted joyfully by God. Now we must set ourselves to the task of inviting others, with our lives, to the ultimate meaning and significance which God's vision, the vision of the Kingdom, holds for the world. In the course of this lived invitation, we, like Jesus, must invite others clearly, concisely and directly to join us in bringing about God's vision for the world. We have the responsibility to say to people: "Sell all you have, give to the poor, and come away to proclaim the kingdom of God!" We must invite those with whom we work and pray and live to "Come and see" what we have seen. Like Jesus, our invitation will have authority if its motivation is love and its roots are found in our lived experien.ce. Thus, if we have found the meaning and significance of the kingdom in our religious commitment, in our community life, and in our ministry, then we must invlte others to that same experience. If religious life has been the context of God's kingdom for us, then we must invite others to consider that same context for themselves. We cannot deny others the opportunity that is ours, the gift we have been given in religious life. I believe that not to make others aware of this gift, not to speak of God's vision for us, and most importantly, not to invite others to consider this gift for themselves would constitute such a denial. I believe that vocation ministry if you will, the ministry of invitation and discovery--can be a powerful means of carrying on the invitation of Jesus. A Philosophy of ¥ootion Ministry Vocation ministry has emerged in recent years as a valid and accepted ministry in the ~Church. This emergence is due in large part to a new u~nderstanding of vocation ministry, an understanding which has its foun-dation in the model of 'invitation which Jesus provides in the Gospel. Unfortunateiy, this approach to vocation ministry is not' understood by many religious, and consequently keeps them from supporting the voca-tion efforts of their communities, and even more importantly, from involv-ing themselves in these efforts. As we have seen, vocation ministry, when considered as a ministry of invitation, is modeled by Jesus. But such an understanding of vocation ministry is relatively new. There was ~ time in the not too distant past (and which still e~xists today in some circles) when vocation ministry was consi-dered to be "recruitment," and the person who did this work was known as the "recruiter." This designation was appropriate at the time, for the person Vocation Ministry / 177 who served as a recruiter for a religious community attempted to find and enlist people, especially young peol~le, who seemed suitable for her or his particular community. The religious recruiter was searching for people to carry onthe work--the good work---of her or. his congregation. The job of the religious recruiter was similar to that of recruiters for the military, for schools or for corporations: namely, to ensure the continuance of the group's interests. The beneficiary of this process was the group and in 'the case of the religious recruiter, the beneficiary was her or his community and the people the community served. The term "recruitment" and the philosophy ~vhich it designates does not fit what Jesus does in the Gospels when he invites people to follow him. I believe that as the work of "recruitment" becomes more and more pat-terned after the model of invitation which Jesus provides, we need to call it by another name. It is at this point that we can begin to speak of "vocation ministry." The difference in language is reflective of the difference in philos-ophy and practice. It is, in fact, the difference between "recruitment and ministry," and it is shown in a new role for the person who does this work. This role is no longer one of serving primarily the needs of the congrega-tion, but is one of serving the needs of the people with whom the vocation minister works directly, the people whom she or he assists in discovering how and where and with whom the Lord calls them to build the kingdom. The priorities of the vocation minister have changed, from a focus on ensuring that the life of her or his congregation continues by enlisting people into the order, to a focus on ensuring that people discover who it is that God calls them to be. The agenda from which the vocation minister works has changed, from being primarily the order's agenda, to being primarily God's agenda. To some, such differentiation rhay seem too subtle to be of any impor-tance; .it may even seem like hairsplitting or word games. I believe, how-ever, that it is not too subtle, nor is =it hairsplitting, nor is it word games. For when looked at from the perspective of the person attempting to discern God's call, and especially the young person faced with fife-choices to make, there is a world of difference between the recruiter who wants that person to be a sister or brother or priest, and the minister who wants to help that person discover where God calls him or her to build the kingdom, where life will hold the most meaning for him or her, with no preconceived notion of where that might be. I contend further that, when considered from God's perspective, there is an ~ven more profound difference between "recruitment" and "ministry." It is the difference between the recruiter who believes that the continuance of her or his congregation is in the recruiter's hands, and that it is up to the recruiter to supply the needs of the order; and 1711 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 the minister.who trusts that God callg people to build his kingdom as sisters,, brothers, priests, married people and single people, and belieVes that her or his role is to act as Jesus did in inviting people to listen for God's .call and to act on it. Such a stand places the responsibility for supplying the needs of the order in God's hands, and~ recognizes the responsibility of the vocation minister and° the members of the congrega-tion to act as instruments-of his call by issuing the invitation to the kingdom. ~ Vocation ministry, and not recruitment, is the responsibility of every religious. It is a responsibility which stems not from fear for the future of religious life, but rather from the fact that each of us has been given a great and wonderful gift in religious life, a gift which must be shared with others. Our invitation to religious life is given in the context of the kingdom: because we have known the kingdom in our life and ministry with one another, we'invite others to that same experience. It is not recruitment for a particular order that vocation ministry is about; it is an invitation to nothing less than the kingdom of God that we,. as religious, must be about. The Challenge to Re!igious When vocation ministry is seen not as recruitment but as a ministry whose foundation is the model of invitation, which Jesus himself offers, an entirely new challenge is given to .religious. It is a challenge which brings about a n.ew set of questions: --Have I ~experien~ed the kingdom of"God? Where and with. whom was that experience~of the kingdom ? --Is the experience of living in religious community and doing Church ministry an experience of the kingdom for me? --Do I sense both the responsibility and the desire to share the king-dom with others by inviting them to build the kingdom? -~Am I willing to invite others to consider religious community and Church ministry as a way of building the kingdom, a way which has been life-giving and Satisfying for me? I believe that we religious can continue to invite others to join us i~n community and m~nistry. Some Of those whom we invite will join us; others will find another flay of building the. kingdom; still others~will go away sad. But vhatever the response, we can continue to invite, secure in the knowl-keidngged otmha~t,, tion wouhric rhe lwigei oinuvs i~teo mthmosiet mwehnotm, w we eh maveee tb. eOenu rg iinvveinta"ati osnh ai'sr.em iont it-he vated not by fear of the fu(ure, but rather by a sincere desire to share the gift we have been given, With joy ~and confidence we can coniinue to spe~k the invitation of Jesus: "Come away and proclaim the kingdom of God!" Gentle Exile: Reflections on Formation Mary Ellen Dougherty~ S.S.N.D. After a long stint in formation work for her community, Sister Dougherty has returned to the teaching of English. Sh.e may be addressed at The College of Notre Dame of Maryland; 4701 N. Charles Street; Baltimore, Maryland 21210. Shortly.before I finished a long term in formation work, I told myself that eventually I would write an article that might be of use to others in that ministry. I waited. I needed distance. After a year or so, subjectivity settled into uncertainty. I did not know what I wanted to say. Now, more than four years later, I think 1 do. ~ Initially, I would have commented on the characteristics of candidates currently interested in religious life, the inevitable challenges in dealing with them, and the necessity of both structure and latitude in a formation program. I would have talked about the generosity of young people in ministry, their ambivalence about vows. Now, however, I would like to focus on formation, personnel. 1 address my remarks especially to those who are in the work, and to those who .are considering it as ministry. In more than.eight ye~ars in this ministry, I worked, directly, in various team arrangements, with eight different directors. As director of novices, I participated, with the novices, in intercommunity programs in which directors shared on a regular basis. I speak, then, out of my own experience, and out of some ongoing reflections with at least two dozen directors, men and women. And I speak, still, tentatively. These are my insights now. In many ways I was nbt an effective director. In some ways I was. I have learned from both. I do not think there is a standard profile for a successful director~ There are countless variations on virtues that could be 179 1110/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 considered. Certainly a consistent attitude and practice of prayer, along with a keen mind and a clean heart, are essential. Inner freedom issuing from a clear depth of uncluttered spirituality is central. It is not my intention, however, to explore these here. That, perhaps, is another article. I would like, instead, to address three fundamental areas which, in practice, prove t.o be crucial: experience, affectivity, and integrity. Experience Age, I think, is only a factor for the director insofar as it permits experience. What one has done is not necessarily what one has experienced. To receive experiences of poverty, failure, darkness, in the light of grace, balanced with experiences of fulfillment and productivity, requires time; one must have lived long enough and well enough to know the inevitability of the rhythm, to expect the seasons to change. In that sense, age is important. It is not just what one has experienced, but what one has not experienced that should be consid~reff. One who has been given the time to live as well as the time to die, and has learned to receive both with equanimity, has lived long enough. And one who has not, should not be expected to deal with her own discoveries easily in the context of formation work. Events may always surprise us; the curr~nt of life should not. Affectivity I am not professionally equipped in terms of academic background t6 talk about the psychology of affectivity, or stages of affective development. My observations are purely practical: when the affective or relational life of a director is undeveloped or undernourished, there are generall~ relational problems with those she is directing; these are Often lodged in some variation of dependency, usually mutual. The director, from my observa-tions, usually takes the relationship more seriously, in the long run, than the candidate; the director seems to have some expectations of permanence, whereas the candidate, especially if she is young, is more than likely to tr~insfer her emotions rather quickly. There often is, however, some degree of mutual destruction. It is essential, 'then, that formation directors have the capacity for, and the activity of, peer relationships, that over the years they demonstrate an ability to interact in friendship with inutuality and absence of unwarranted dependency. The demands of formation work are constant and draining, especially if the director is living ~vith her directees. Candidates, especially younger ones, often exhibit a love-hate response toward authority. Unless the director has a belief in her own lovableness, created by a deep personal sense of God, and the experience of significant peer relationships over the years, she can be quickly undone. So can those Gentle Exile / 1111 she directs. Oia the other hand, a director who has a variety of relationships, and who is secure in at least a few of them, is not likely to need her directees. She may, over the months or the years, develop some friendships among them, but these will be a matter of choice, not of necessity. Integrity, Given a person who has lived long enough and loved hard enough, we come to the point of integrity, which I use in a limited sense here. I speak only of that dimension of integrity which enables one to experience some independent clarity about the truth, and to be faithful to it in spite of opposition. It is not my intention to suggest moral judgments. Like many people in positions of authority, formation directors must be able, if necessary, to stand alone. They must be capable of making and living out graced decisions which may create great conflict. And they must be as capable of independent thinking as, they are of consultation. A director who is not comfortable thinking for herself, who relies too heavily on approval and too little, on her own graced instincts, is usually transparent to her directees; wittingly or unwittingly, they may use her. While the need for dialogue, for collaboration, for consensus cannot be overstated, neither can the need for slow, clear, independent decisions that begin in the deepest level of self, where, in the face of opposition, integrity, a matter of grace, becomes a manifestation of courage. When all is said and done, it is fidelity (or infidelity) to the graced self with whom one must live. There is nothing new under the sun. The ability to receive experience and to let it become wisdom; the calbacity to love and to be loved without ownership; the self-possession and the faith to risk a gentle (or not so gentle) exile--these are characteristic of any authority who claims Jesus as her source. If formation work is anything, it is daily. If anyone needs Jesus as her source, a formation director does. Working with the Young Adult with Temporary Vows Vito Aresto, EM. S._ Brother Aresto is Vice Provincial and .Director of Formation for,the Poughkeepsie (NY) Province of the Marist Brothers. Heohas been ,working with brothers under temporary profession for more than six years. He may be addressed at his Vice-Pro-vincial Office: 4200 W. l i5th Street; Chicago, Illinois 60655. Much has been written over the last several years about_the conditions and problems of the yoeng adult within formation programs of, religious life. Since many of the young people who come seeking this new lifestyle come after years 9f college or work experience, formation directors are finding that the traditionally tried and true methods, of formation~seem to contain significant gaps when dealing with this new kind of person. The problem becomes even more complicated when the young person is in t~emporary vows. In this paper I would like to delve into some of the significant areas that have emerged in my working with our temporary professed. For the most part they are young men who have achieved rather comfortable recogni-tion professionally. They have taken their first vows in their middle twen-ties and look forward to years of growth and service within religious life. Final profession comes somewhere around age thirty. Developmental psychology has examined this period of growth young adulthood with great earnestness. Clearly, it is being recggnized that as life develops it confronts, struggles, and tackles successive issues in life's fabric and resolves them only to move forward to confront still newer issues towards growth. Such progress is noted as maturation, growing in one's potential, developing into a full human person. ~Vorking with the Young Adult . When the issues of spirituality are overlayed upon this rich process, we begin to see something of the concept of conversion. Obviously, when one begins to probe conversion, there is a point where even the best of the social sciences"pales before the mystery of faith: But nonetheless, we can learn much about growth and developmenL particularly in the struggles of a young adult who is attempting to find his or her place within a religious .family. This unfolding of life's grandeur and mystery is not at all easy. It can never be pain free if it is authentic. For the formation personnel working with young religious a good grasp of this process is obviously needed. Crisis needs to be viewed as part of the human drama, and neither .overstated nor underplayed. Rather the formation director can be a calming influence for~ individuals as they probe the' issues and unravel a course of action. In this light it is also very important to note that the director ~should be very comfortable with assisting the young adult to tap into such helping services as therapy or spiritual direction. It is important to realize that the varying issues which emerge are not all vocational conflicts. Rather some very necessary growing-pain situations may be interpreted as "vocational,' which in actual fact are merely struggles with growth issues. At other times personal,life issues may be confused as stress issues needing therapy, but are deeply vocational. Finally, there may be.a blend of both. It is the task of the formatioh director .as calming influence to help the young person wade through the issues, and recognize where they lie. In naming the dil~.~a, the course.to resolution becomes less threatening. For most young religious the transition from novitiate life to active ministry carries with it some straining adjustments. There is a great differ, ence between accepting the need to integrate the essential elements of reli-gious life and actually attempting to do so. This strain to interpret and realize the ideal can either bring about growth in young persons, or have them develop a selective sense which, ma~y in the long run distort growth. Each person must face honestly that the balance of the essential elements of the religious life structure cannot be merely put aside for some personal notion of the greater good. In the long run true growth for the young religious only takes place in confronting each aspect of vowed life as important, and then developing a proper rhythm for themselves. Fidelity to their vowed commitment must be presented as their primary work, By doing this they will be realistic in discerning this lifestyle within their congregation and how it truly fits into their own needs ~ind response to the Lord and his people. This approach, one that asks young persons not to compromise any aspect of their vowed commitment, even when faced with the tremendous 11t4 / Review for Religi~ous, March.April, 1986 pressures of the varying adjustments of prayer, community and apostolate, is utterly honest in recognizing and treating religious as adults. The fact remains that as they unravel their dreams and expectationsi they must also be totally immersed in what actually is the life they now share in their new religious family. This task can become even more burdensome as the young religious begin to recognize and feel the depth of confusion, and even sinfulness within their chosen religious family. Yet, within this sobering reality one fundamental task for.the temporary professed religious is to come to real-ize whether their dreams can be honestly integrated within this particular congregation. If this cannot be done then an honest and courageous act would be to depart. The Lord is not asking anyone to surrender his or her dreams, nor is he asking the impossible in great and massive adjustments to what a person holds sacred to the purpose and direction in life. It becomes the task of the formation director to help and accompany the young religious in this discerning process. But the director should never water down or compromise in the name of charity what he or she knows are realities incompatible to the values and goals of the congregation. Furthermore, the director must a.lways make the distinction between fidel-ity to a lifestyle and fidelity to the Lord. The young must come to realize that commitment to Jesus as their Lord can be lived in all the genuine forms and calls to holiness within the Church. Hopefully, the novitiate process has solidly grounded these young persons in their commitment to Jesus. Temporary vows must focus on the parameters of this particular religious family and charism as one valid and true means towards holiness for this young religious. Therefore, a truly respectful and, honest relationship must exist between the formation direc-tor and the young religious so that.real growth and integrity can develop. It is of paramount importance then, that the young,~religious' dreams must be found to be possible in the congregation they have chosen to enter. This is not only vitally important for the growth and development of the young religious, it is also vital for the growth and development of the congregation. The life given to this young religious by God is also a gift of life for all the members of the congregation. When such interaction is in process a certain sense of peace and purpose prevail. When it is. not present one readily begins to sense and hear bitterness, sarcasm, and resentment., Understanding the vital need of a dream in a young religious' life must therefore be one of the important areas into which a director must examine and explore. The novitiate will set up ideals that are solidly grounded in spiritual and scriptural foundations, but these ideals will not be realized except in the attempt at the actual riving out of community within, a local Working with the Young Adult / 1115 setting. It must be realized that each local community is itself struggling to unravel the full meaning and purpose of its shared life direction. Although young religious may leave the novitiate in full recognition that life is a process of growth and integration, it will only be in the experience of community that they will begin to understand the journey with their broth-ers or sisters that they have begun. Therefore, understanding the dreams and also knowing deeply the real struggles of this religious family is a task that each formation director must grasp when dealing with temporary professed. Ultimately, the focus must be turned completely on the Lord. He must remain the very purpose and intention of the young religious. Service will only .spring from the well of deep commitment to the Lord who loved all people even, unto death. More times than not, the young religious' grasp of the importance of intimacy is also wrapped up in their understanding of their dream. They do not enter religious life accepting the fact that there will be little or no intimate relationships in their lives. Obviously, religious life does afford the opportunities for a rich relational life; but that can only come through the struggle of integrating the vows in the light of each one's intimate relational needs. For young religious who must deal with this issue through the maze of the various transitional periods of growth, the very issue of intimacy can become pivotal to successful integration, and thus to peace within this chosen lifestyle. The movement towards dealing with one's~relational life also has impli-cations for community and ministerial life. In community this can expand one's depth of compassion, and in ministry it can help focus one's work beyond the notion of career to an expression of the Lord's service con-tinued through his Church. Each step of this awareness will heighten the young religious' recognition that he or she has truly been called by Another. Gradually imprinted upon the life and work of each young reli-gious is the paschal ,mystery, each one's transformation into Christ. The weathering of growth issues can therefore be the seed for a deepening of vocational understanding that is not only personal but intimate with the Lord. As young religious move closer to their thirtieth year there is to be noted a very subtle but careful evaluation taking place. Some significant issues have emerged and been confronted. The young religious also begin to recognize.that all the aspects of their dreams and aspirations may not be completely realized. They begin to feel, and not merely know, the implica-tions of being chaste and obedient. The cultural values of their society, with its push towards success, ambition, and recognition weigh on their poverty. Ultimately, as final commitment approaches, so does the trauma of the 186 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 "second calling." It is at this moment that the formation director must gently accompany~the young religious. The time for mentofing has ended. It becomes important that unconditional acceptance pervade the whole relationship, If the journey through those years of temporary vows has been honest and rich in successful and mature handling of life issues, then the response to this second calling--a permanent commitment to the Lord within this congregation--will~ be made with the totality possible to this young adult. Fundamentally, as one accompanies young adults~through their initial years of religious commitment, one quickly realizes that formation is.lrela-tional growth. The young religious come eager to respond to the Lord~. Their response has been wrapped and colored within their dreams of Ltheir future life and ministry. Novitiate naturally assists in a solid grounding and underpinning, but it°is not until there is full immersion in the daily routine of life in common and in ministry that they begin to confront and grow within their religious commitment. For the formation director the journey of this pilgrimage is one of trust and love. Ultimately, the individual must come to a sense of'personal peace. This peace is only born in the honest relational growth between each individual and the Lord, between the individual and his or her brothers or sisters, and the individual and the people they are sent to work with and serve. This peace should become the full flowering of a love that rests solidly on the motivation and direction of a life-decision made to the Lord and his people, within this special band of disciples that he or she chose for a religious family. '~ Reflectively, we can turn to Jesus as the model for the formation director who works' with young adults. Particularly is this so if we. focus upon his dealings with Peter. Here we note the care and compassion that must be evidenced by the director. For three years Jesus guided, taught and challenged Peter. These lessons werenot ~beyond the scope of correction and prodding, but they were also done in sincere and tender cbncern. And yet when the supreme :momefit for Jesus arrived, his hour of glory, Peter was still unaware of the magnitude of Jesus' mission. Much like the novice who enters first profession, Peter needed to continue to grow and ~be challenged, even in the darkness of near despair. It was not until the depth of his relationship with the Lord was securely grounded that Peter was ready to shepherd. Only then did he fully comprehend the-initial call that was repeated in the marvelous second calling at the end of John's gospel, "Do you love me? . Come, follow me!" Strangely enough in that rich relational bond between Peter and the Lord did his fondest dreams become rei~l. He no longer needed~io hold Working with the Young Adult / 187 tightly to privilege or rank. Now he no longer saw himself as solely the "rock," but rather could he challenge all that he shepherded to be "living stones," part of the "edifice" of the Lord and his Church. He understood clearly all that was needed to continue the process of growth, a journey into wholeness and holiness. For the young religious the journey is similar. The director must guide and accompany them so that the echo of the initial call of the Lord can be profoundly realized and incorporated into the very identity and dreams of these young persons. Permanent commitment becomes a full expression of a relationship that is central to their meaning and purpose. Christ the Center of Our Vowed Life by" ~Boniface Ramsey, O.P. Father Ramsey's three articles on .,the vows of religion are available as a single reprint: i - The Center of Religious Poverty ii - Christocentric Celibacy iii - Cru~ciform Obedience Price: $1.75 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review ~or Religious Rm 428 ~3601 Lindell Blvd. St: Louis, Missouri 63108 Commitment in a Religious Order: A Sociological View Joseph C. Doyle Dr. Doyle teaches at Seton Hall University (South Orange Ave; South Orange, Neff Jersey 07079), where he may be addressed. There is a special quality about people who are committed to something, whether it be to another person, a group, an organization, a career, or an idea. That quality can be captured by such words as "loyalty," "allegiance," or "steadfastness." For to be committed is to be involved in a relationship which has priority in one's life over alternative relationships or only one-self. This does not mean that a person's other involvements are ignored bu.t only that when push comes to shove this relationship has singular importance. Obviously, this is a key feature of religious life, for the purpose of religious orders is to foster growth in each member's commitment to Christ. In fact, it has often been assumed, both by people within and without such institutions, that this is the sole ~ocus of the members' ~om-mitments-- that they "have the faith." In the past fifteen years or so, how-ever, the large scale exodus of members from the various forms of religious life has raised serious questions in many quarters concerning this one dimensional view of religious commitment. In particular, such authors as ~Marie Augusta Neal,~ Helen Ebaugh,2 Lucinda San Giovanni,3 Richard Schoenhern and Andrew Greeley,4 and Patricia Wittberg5 have all attemp-ted to shed a social scientific light on some of these questions. This paper is meant to be a reflection on some themes developed out of this tradition. It will attempt to present the results of some findings gleaned 188 Commitment in a Religious Order / 1119 from interviews with twenty women involved in a religious order in the eastern United States. Its major interest will be the way commitment in religious life passes through different forms, forms which seem to be affected by the kinds oof structures established by religious orders and by the way their members respond to these structures. It is, of course, danger-ous to generalize from a group 6f this size. Thus, the following remarks should be read as an'effort to explore some pertinent issues in the quality of commitment rhther than to offer a definitive statement on these issues. I. Sociology and Commitment Because this paper relies upon insights developed in sociology, perhaps it would be helpful to first briefly explain some key sociological ideas concerning commitment before delving into the material from the in/er-views. Over the past thirty years or so, sociology has developed a number of concepts for dealing with the experience of commitment. By and large, these ideas are rooted in the perspective that c6mrnitment is the result of certain ,mechanisms operating in groups or organizations that mold indi-viduals into loyal members. Thus; the primary attention is on how these social factors operate to produce a committed person. One of the more prominent efforts in this field can be found in the work of Rosabeth Kanter, particularly in her book Commitment and Community.6 While the analysis that follows utilizes these insights, it also attempts to show how individual members of a religious order responded to these forces and tried to grow beyond them. Kanter views commitment in terms of three interrelated dimensions: instrumental, affe.ctive.and moral. In addition, each of these dimensions is the result of a set of factors bY which a community leads its novices into full membership. By instrumental commitment Kanter means a felt attachment to a social role that is more rewarding or less costly than the roles outside of the community. In this kind of commitment the person wants to live up to the behavioral expectations that others in the community have of him or her. This attachm~ent is achieved, according to Kanter, by having the novice undergo experiences ,whereby the individual has to invest her time and energy in doing the work of the community and to sacrifice her own possessions on behalf of the community. In this way the person finds himself or herself wanting to remain because of all that has been expended ¯ in the effort to achieve full membership. As Kanter puts it: When profits and costs are considered, participants find the cost of leaving the system would be greater than the cost of remaining; "profit," in a net psychic sense, compels continual part;_cipation.7 190/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 By affective commitment Kanter means an attachment to a set of relationships whose ties are more gratifying than the ties with .alternative relationships. To find a particular,~set of relatio, nships more gratifying than others means recognizing that set as the,primary source of. affection and support in one's life. This dimension is realized by having novice members renounc6 all previous ties of affection as being primary for them and by involving them in communal activities with members of th~eir group. In these ways the new participant comes to develop emotional ties with these others and a cohesive bond develops amongst them. Finally, by moral or normative commitment'Kanter means an alle-giance to the values and norms of the community and a willingness to obey the authority structure of the community as the ultimate interpreter of those norms and .values. However, this allegiance doesonot necessarily develop after a careful evaluation of these norms and structures. Instead, Kanter sees this dimension arising from a set of beliefs and values that have been internalized in an often irrational or unc_ritical way. In Some respects, commitment to norms and values resembles the concept of superego, which binds the evaluative components bf the self t6 norms of a system through an internalized authority.8 The moral commitment of members is achieved, Kanter notes, by techniques that encourage novices to'deny significance to their own ideas and desires and to place their trust more in the community than 'in them-selves. Thus, new members come to see the way of life of the coinmunity as more meaningful than that of competing alternatives. This sociological view of commitment may, at first sight, be rather upsetting to people who form a community in order "to ddepen their rela-~ tionship with God. '-I Would suggest that this reaction is a rather well-founded one. For what sociology has uncovered, and what many of the" religious women 1 interviewed realized after being in their order for a few years, is that there can be a very real difference between commitment to God and commitment to a religious organization. For this latter institution attempts to offer its members a way to God, but lhis "way" is embodied in historically realized rules, procedures;practices and customs that can often become ends in themselves in the minds and hearts of these members. The sociological point, of course, is that a religiouscommunity hasto empha-size these aspects if it is going to survive and so it has to foster commitment to them. Naturally, a religious institution hopes that its" members will develop spiritually by such practices, and many have done so. Nevertheless, as the' following analysis will show, the danger can also be that the corn= mitment does not get beyond these dimensions. How that can'happen and what can be done about it are the concerns of the rest of this paper. Commitment in a Religious Order / "191 II. A Sociology of Commitment in Religious Life A. Internalizing a Theme ~ The model of commitment presented by Kanter can be a useful tool for interpreting the experiences of the twenty women I interviewed. While these women all came from the same order, they varied as far as age (32-63), length of time in the order (9 years to over 40 years), and the kind of positions they held at the time of the interview (teaching, pastoral and the central administration of the order). Nevertheless, they all described their early years in religious life in ways that can b~e captured by Kanter's categories. 1: Internalizing the Instrumental Dimension One of the interesting findings of these interviews was that many of the nuns felt that the years taken up by their training were preoccupied with the proper performance of their duties, with what they called "the externals." In Kanter's terminology they were committed to the role of a religious person. She claims that it is possible for a person just to behave in a committed way, i:e., remain in the group but not necessarily care about the ideals or values of that group.9 While she'herself did not think that this was a full commitment, she did seeit as a possibility. When the nrns were asked about significant changes in their lives, one of the events frequently brought up was when they recognized that they had been caught up in the mere activity of being a nun. For example: when I came to religious hfe I switched to the externals because that is what I thought I was supposed to do and that was what was always talked about., how you dressed, how you performed this and how you did your chores, but I wasn't co~mfortable with that. When we first entered, the activities were important as you grow into being a member of the community. I think at some point you get caught up in the reception of the habit., that is a big day in your life., and you try to act like the pdrfect nun and" that sort of thing. ~ In addition to acting out the role of a reli~gious woman, many of the respondents reported recognizing, a period in their lives when their minis-try, or more pr.ecisel3~, their work, was mrre important to them than any other dimension. Years ago, I guess I was work-oriented and it was the thing that people saw. And the thing I could let go of was my prayer life because no one ever saw that and I wasn't accountable for it. I cou.ld go to confession and say I didn't haeditate that week and that wruld t~ike care of the guilt part. But I never made ~ny cofinectionJwith the rest of iny life. 192 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 As these quotes indicate, the focus on minist.ry and on the proper fulfillment of the "externals" of the religious role were the dimensions to which most of these women became initially committed. ,And, for some of these sisters, the ministry remained central for them well beyond the period of their training. However, while this was a key feature of religious life for many of these women, they eventually began to question the validity of this preoccupa-tion, and for some this orientation is no longer dominant in their lives. 2. Internalizing the Affective Dimension Kanter's second type of commitment was also evident at an early stage of the nun's training. For some of these women, this. involvement in community life coincided with their involvement in ministry. What did you think you were committing yourself to at that~time? I thought I was committing myself to ministry and to community life but not to a deep personal prayer life. I was still struggling with thaIt t.r.i.e. d to take time for it but more often than not, that got pushed aside. What was there about ministry and community life that made you want to commit yourself?. I just" saw goo~d in it. I saw myself functioning very well in it, being comfortable in it, not having any kind of desire not to be there. Some of the other nuns, however, found that a focus on community followed, in time, a commitment to ministry, and sometimes the tension between ministry and community would be resolved in favor of community¯ , ¯. I consider myselfa community-minded person; for whatever reason, ~ prefer working within the community., like coming to the infirmary and working right here with our sisters. I was more than happy todo that. I didn't find myself looking to go really outside of the community. (I. Why was that~ Well, I guess in that it's doing for my own sisters, primarily, rather than people on the outside¯ You are doing the same kind of thing but for whatever reason my preference would be my sisters first. Thus, while ministry may be seen as rewarding, by itself it does not suffice. For this woman and for others, it was and still is a matter of the emotional bond one has with the group with whom she rhinisters that is crucial. Where ministry can be judged in terms of rewards and costs, more non-rational considerations have to be used to judge the relationships one has with others. However, ~s was seen in the discussion of instrumental commitment, this affective dimension did not r6main as dominant for all the nuns. As the following quote suggests, this orientation is no longer as crucial as it once was. Commitment in a Religious Order / 1~ ¯ I really don't know how we remained faithful then. I'm sure if it was another type of community, I don't know, maybe it's because we're more of a family, you know, we feel for one another, um, and that was always our sister, and if you didn't hang in there because your superiors were no good, you'd hang in there because your friends were there. Your commitment to them kind of seemed important to you. 3. Internalizing the Normative Dimension Finally, the third of Kanter's types of commitment was also a focus of allegiance for most of the women during their training. This is particularly obvious in the way many of them had accepted the authority of their superiors during that period. ¯. 1 never felt pressured or stepped on or however people fed. I never felt that. I guess as I entered community it was something I wanted to do. or the Lord called me to do, so I did what I was supposed to do . However, while there were nuns who were very compliant, some found themselves questioning the purpose behind some of the orders. For them, willing obedience was built on an obedience motivated by a fear of being dismissed. Were there people in your class who questioned a lot? Yes, they are no longer here. In novitiate I was very docile. I was probably stupid. If they told me tO do it, I did it because if you didn't do it, they were going to send you home. ~. So you did it out of fear more than anything else. Yes. Yet I liked the days of formation and everything else, but if they said do it, I did it; and when we did it and thought it was crazy, we Used to laugh about it, but we still did it.°, there was no heart in it or anything like that, but we did it to shut them up and get them off our backs. Whether this emphasis on atithority and obedience was complied with willingly or out of fear, it had a dual effect in the training period: it seemed to focus attention on role conformity or the "externals," as was seen before, and it created a sense of dependency on the leadership of the community in many of these women. But in the minds of some Of the nuns, this would often translate into valuing obedience to the rules 'over the needs encountered in one's ministry. Let's say the mother of one of the children was pregnant and her husband had just kicked her in the stomach and kicked her downstairs, and she came to me after ~chool, as did happen once, and when I tried to share with her and show her a little sympathy, I got in trouble because I stayed over in school even though it was that type of thing. I didn't mind getting into trouble, but ! just couldn't understand that whole thing. And in those 1~ / Review for Religious, March-ApriL 1986 days, if she came again, I would probably say "I can't see you," thinking that obedience was the greater thing at that time~ While some of the evidence suggests that many of the nuns interpreted this dependency on authority as something they have left'behind, this is not so for all of them. Even with the much publicized changes in convent life, with the "loosening up of the structures," the importance of the normative dimension of commitment still comes through for many of them. As this following quote demonstrates, however, it is internalized dependency: The change that has been significant has been in the individual being responsible for he~'self. We still have in our community superiors in our local convents. However~ the emphasis has been on individuals being responsible for themselves, for the cbmmitment that they have made, for' living according to the rules and the constitution, for keeping the vows . B. l/ariations on a Theme . ~ Hopefully, the preceding exploration has shown that the women I interviewed responded to the demands made upon them in their formation years in the convent .in ways that the order wanted them to respond. In effect, they internalized the theme of religious life espoused by their order. This, of course, is not to pass judgment on the sincerity of intention of any of these women or on the integrity of those tesponsible~for their training. It is instead to recognize what most of these sisters have realized and what Kanter's model of commitment can help us to see: religious commitment is more than simply doing religious things. When attention is concentrated on the activity of being religious without an ~ffort at helpi~ng the novice to discern the place of these activities in an overall lifestyle, then the only result will be religious conformity and a commitment to the means established to realize a life in Christ rather than to that life itself. However, as many of the above quotes intimated, the story of the commitments of these women does not end in mere conformity. Most of the nuns found that by the time of their final vows or in the five years or so after final profession, t.hey had begun the process of perso~nalizing many of the practices they had learned. This effort at personalization took one of two forms: varying the order's style of religious life to meet o~ne's own personality and characteristics, or creating a style of religious life that was in keeping with the core values of that lii~ but no longer was solely modeled on their order's particular historical interpretation of those values. I would now like to explore the first of the~e responses which I will call "variant commitments." In the third pai't of this paper, I will examine the second form.- The term "variant commitment", refers to a more reflective response to 'Commitment in a Religious Order the demands of convent life than the conformist response did. The idea for it comes from another sociologist named Robert Merton.~0 Writing in a different context (but, nevertheless, in one that is still applicable to our purposes), Merton referred to people who were sensitive to the demands of their institutions but were willing to test some of the limits of those demands. He had in mind men of science like Pasteur or Einstein who were committed to the goals of science but who engaged in the kind of research that resulted in new ways of conceiving the world around us. In a similar way, many of the nuns I interviewed were very much committed t9 the goals of their order, but they were also involved in efforts to alter its style of religious living. Where their training had taught them to exhibit routine adaptations to the expectations of the order, they later became more willing to modify these demands while still remaining within the normative character of the community. By briefly looking at some examples of these variant responses in the light of Kanter's model, it will. be possible to show concretely the kind of changes that took place in these women, 1. Variations on the Instrumental Theme It will be recalled that in this dimension of commitment members involved themselves in the performance of those activities that hdped maintain the community as an ongoing entity. In religious life, one of the more important of these role expectations was a faithful participation in the liturgy. For sisters in training the ordinary round of prayer activities became part of the behavior of the "ideal" nun. By the time of final vows, these activities had become second nature to them. Following the Second Vatican Council, however, the order began to loosen its rather rigid structure, and local convents wer9 allowed to establish their own format for commu.nal prayers. This usually involved a group decision concerning the times to be set aside, as well as the particular style the prayer activities would take. In addition, there was also the expectation that individual sisters would develop their own schedul~ and forms for their personal prayer life. Thus, new regulations were made which allowed for more decentralized variation and individual freedom in fulfillment of the order's goal to develop prayerful sisters. The result of these reforms appears to be a more conscious involvement on the part of most of the nuns in this dimension of their lives: The .emphasis, I think, in the younger days was not on my personal religious or spiritual development, as much as it is now., the job is important but the prayer part of it is more important. Ifa decision was to be made that I would have to give up my prayer life to be an 1~ / Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 administrator, I think I would give up the administrator part. I'm sure years ago I couldn't have said that. I'm going into my fifth year here, and I was very nervous coming here because I had heard about their prayer life~ But it's really been good. It's more spontaneous than at other places. Like we do the reading of the day, and then we share with each other what they are saying to us or one of us will give a homily. As these quotes indicate, within the overall values of communal and personal prayer, the nuns have sought to fashion attitudes and practices that reflect a more conscious appreciation for these features than was true in their earlier days. This consciousness in some cases was an attitudinal shift, such as the rededication of oneself to a life of prayer;'or in other instances, it was a greater willingness to participate in a variation of public prayer that had not been tried before. In'both examples though, a shift to a more reflective response is evident, and this allows for personal and local variations of a communal expectation. 2. Variations on the Affective Theme The second area of religious life to which most of the nuns can be said to have been reflectively responding is the communal dimension. On both a formal and an informal basis, it is expected that the members will participate in the affairs and functions of the community and that this group will be primary in each person's life. In the period before the Vatican Council, these expectations usually meant a high degree of uniformity among the order's members. In the years following the Council, they frequently have involved rather innovative attempts to develop a greater sense of camaraderie among local community members. This can be seen in the following instances which suggest a changing vision of the meaning of community and a willingness to put into actual practice what some have only been able to dream about. What is your vision of community? I would like it more personal, um, with small groups where there is sharing not only of your work but of your basic spirituality, your vision, and maybe with people that you could work it out with so that your vision could: become a reality. I think the great disillusionment with religious life is that your vision remains a vision and there's not too many to share that vision. We were pioneers. My first year in grad school and after that we lived in a convent and commuted to school. We used to pray together and just try to share our lives. We could do creative things like alternative prayer styles and a lot of sharing about community and about the Lord. Commitment in a Religious Order Of course, not all the women in the group were as originally so enthusiastic about this new style, as the above excerpts may suggest. Nevertheless, those who have tried it have overcome their initial restraint and now see it'as a more beneficial way of living than the older style. Once again, a relaxation of rather rigid structures has allowed for a greater amount of reflective expression and thus for the introduction of alternative approaches to a goal of the order. 3. l/'ariations on the Normative Theme The final dimension that exhibits the effects of a more reflective response to religious life concerns the commitment to the norms and values of the community. According to Kanter this commitment is demonstrated in the supportive attitudes members have toward those in authority and toward the ideology of the group. One of the areas in convent life where an important shift in this dimension has occurred is in the vow of obedience. In the days when the nuns I interviewed first entered and until quite recently, obedience to the "Will of God" meant, in fact, concrete submis-sion to what the s,uperiors interpreted what that "Will" was. Today, this submissiveness, while still expected on a daily practical level, is somewhat tempered by the recognition, in their order's rule, that all the sisters share a genuine responsibility for th6 goals of the community. This basically seems to mean that the individu~il sisters are left alone to freely do what is expected of them rather than have a local superior enforcing each of the rules. Naturally, such a situ~ttion leaves room for individual variation, both attitudinally ahd behaviorally. I guess my attitude is that this is not somebody or something imposing on me, or the constitution saying I have to do it, or I feel that my superior is going to say that you are not doing this or that. There are days, for exahaple, when I don't spend much time in prayer at all for one reason ~or another, because it's ministry, or I'm getting in at midnight and I can't function the next day. But ifI don't do it for a couple of days, I know it and I really.have to say, I have todo it tonight regardless of what else turns up, so that it becomes a priority. I think it puts more responsibility on the individuals for their own lives. Ten years ago the superior was saying no, you may not go. I think it places more responsibility on the individual not to maybe abuse missing prayers or Mass or house meetings or meals . . . there is a little more freedom and people are more relaxed . , . to be more responsible for themselves. As these quotes indicate, members are freer to interpret when a particu-lar rule should be obeyed and when it should not. Of course, this does not i911 ] Review for Religious, March.April, 1986 mean that they can or would do whatever they please with no sense of normative .obligation, Thus, the conscious choice on the part ~of~the member is to decide when there are legitimate exceptions to a given rule and toact on those exceptions. In the long run, however, the orientation of the nuns is to the normative expectations of the order. - ~ C. Creating a Theme Hopefully, the previous section has shown that the story of the com-mitments of the twenty women I interviewed took a new turn in the years after their final vows. Because of the changes in the formal structures of the order, these nuns were able to move from a rather conformist-oriented appioach to religio.us life to an approach that reflected more of each individual's perso~nality and needs. However, while this newer style was more personalistic than before, it still was within the definition of religious life as formulated by the order. Thus, it is still possible for members to be committed to the instrumental, affective, and moral dimensions of their community (albeit, in their contemporary forms) rather than to the com-munity's underlying purpose, i.e., to one's life in Christ. Of course, as I indicated earlier, this is not necessarily in all instances what has happened. Instead, it is to point out a continual danger in community life, a d[inger that some of the nuns themselves have recognized: structured behavior and attitudes, even when they are loosened up, can become a substitute for personal responsibility for the purpose of those structures. This danger and a potential way to avoid it can be captured more clearly by examining the second type of reflective response that the women I interviewed exhibited. Nine of the twenty nuns responded to the ques-tions I raised in a way that was somewhat different from the others. I have called this type of response "creative commitment." By this I mean a commitment to a notion of religious life that reflected the women's struggle with an appropriation of a set of ideals and interpretations that trans-cended the institutionalized approach in which they found themselves. This did not mean an outright rejection of their community. Rather, it was an attempt to combine themes learned from sources outside the order with the basic values learned from the community into a more personal style of sisterhood than the one in which they had been trained. Their involvement in the community, is now no longer predicated on the constraints the institution can bring to bear on them. Instead, since their commitment is to a vision~of what religious life can be, they have relativized the role that the community has in their lives. This rather abstract definition can be made more.concre[e by compar-ing some of the "variant responses" some of the nuns made to the questions Commitment in a Religious Order / 199 I asked with the "creative responses" nine of the women mad~ to the same questions. As before, these responses can be presented in terms of the model developed by Kanter. I. Relativizing Instrumental Commitment The first dimension of concern will be the attitudes of the nuns toward the role of a sister. In order to ascertain the overall quality of a member's role involvement in the order, I asked what perception each one had of herself as a sister. As the following quote exemplifies, many of the~s.e women have adopted the role of a nun as traditionally defined, ~that is, as one who is supposed to represent in a special way the presence of the sacred in human life. To be sure, they do not appear to be caught up with the prestige symbols of the role--the habit, the title, the little signs of respect. But they dowish to see themselves perceived as religious women, as part of a religio, us organization, and in this sense, the institutional role is important to them. How do you see yourself as a sister? That's hard to answer. I guess. I am living out what I think I am called to be, but I am not just living it for me. but for other people~ Do you mean what effect you have on people? ¯. Yes, like when people ask me to pray for them or for members of their families. I'm not just some fixture or some teacher. Do I convey the o message of Christ to people? Do I carry the name of (order's name) well, and what that community is about, or do I downgrade the community? In comparison with this perception, the following nun appears to dis-tinguish herself and her role as. a sister. While being a nun is important to her, it is not her whole self. This type of perception cropped up °quite often in discussions with these nine women. In effect, the role has been redefined from being a place in an overall organization to being a vehicle for allowing a more personal style of religious life to be expressed. What that,style is depends upon the individual and how she understands herself; but in general, it seems to encompass an effort to live out the central values of Christianity as these are being interpreted by contemporary thinkers. This woman's notion that "sisterhood" includes her relationships with whom-ever she meets is an indication of this redefining process. when I first came to the community, I saw a sister as functional, whereas now I see sister as a relationship that is not only to the people that I work with but it is. much more universal in a sense. It is me as I relate to whoever it may be . It's much more a sense of I am who I am and a good part of who I am happens to be a sister and what lproject is all of me, the totality of life. 200/ Review for Religious, March,April, 1986 2. Relativizing Affective Commitment The second area of discussion deals with the emotional ties members develop toward the relationships they have in the order and toward the order as a whole. The quality of these ties can be captured by the reaction of members to questions concerning the possibility of the order disbanding. While this is an admittedly hypothetical situation, the reactions of the sisters revealed their attitudes towards the community as a whole. For example, as the following citation suggests, many of the sisters see their well-being as tied up with the well-being of the order.~ Because they tend to seetheir lives as coextensive With the life of the community, these women can be said to~ have Committed themselves to the institution. What would happen if your community died? I would be very sad. As a person I think it would be devastating. I guess the charisma of the (order's name) community is important to me. I chose to belong to a group, and this group meant something to me. for whatever reason they became important. I chose to make final vows, and I chose to make it something permanent in my life. When this response is compared with the following one, however, a different understanding of this relationship is revealed. According to this woman, the institution exists to serve a need; and if it no longer can do this, then the nuns should disband and find other communities. This willingness to let go of what must be a home for this woman suggests a degree of autonomy that was also present in the other more innovative nuns. But this autonomy should not be interpreted as a cold independence from the order for-it seems to rest, for each of these women, on a distinction they have made between tbeir particular order and their understanding of religious life in general. In their interpretation of the order, it exists as a means to realize their religious ideals. Thus, religious life is always broader than the order's way of approaching it and for them it is their approach to that life that counts. I don't know exactly. I don't know if I would; then I would look and see if another group would like to get together to form something else, or if I would join another group. I don't think I would be upset. I wouldn't feel that my whole life has gone because I think what this community has done UP to this point has been very good and very worthwhile, and if it is not necessary, it's not necessary. I don't feel any urge to prolong somethin~g that is no longer necessary, so that would not bother me. Another indicator of the relativization of the order in the lives of these women is their willingness to look beyond it for sources of emotional support. While they.were in training, the community encouraged them to develop their personal relationships with their fellow members by severely Commitment in a Religious Order limiting outside contacts, even with members of their own families. Although these nine women still have deep personal ties within their order, they have also consciously developed friendships with others outside of that community, including laypeople. A couple of them have also become part ofqocal communities that are made up of nuns from bther orders instead of the more traditional, homogeneous units. Most of my really close friends have left the community., but it's not quite as dramatic as it sounds because I do have a couple of very good friends who have been very supporting, one who is married who has always supported me. Then. one who I'm even closer to who was in the community who has left. She continues to be one of the most supportive people in my life. It's fine with her that I am here; ~nd it's fine with me that she is there. How many friends do you have outside the community? I'd say that it's probably about fifty-fifty between people within the com-munity and people outside that I really consider myself close to. Four of us broke off from that larger grou.p because we are for'a simpler lifestyle, and we are now living in a house., the three of us from our order, one happens to. be the school person, and two of us who are in .other ministries and then the fourth sister who is from (another order) who is also in another ministry. That's working out pretty well now. 3.' Relativizing Normative Commitment ~ The third area deals with the willingness on the part of members to allow the community to control their lives. Over the past fifteen years or so, the order has loosened up its authority structure somewhat so that now the nuns are encouraged to speak their minds more so than they were in ~he past. Nevertheless, the ultimate expectations for many of the women is .that it is their duty to obey the wish of the superior. As this example demon-. strates, the notion that "the voice of the superior is the voice of God" dies hard. My attitude towards religious life, I don't think, has basically changed in the sense that I still fed that my superiors, those who are in charge, whatever they would ask I would accept it in the same wa~y I did years ago. I would question now, not saying that I wouldn't.do what they asked, but I would question it now. While the above quote demonstrates an attitude toward obedience that can be characterized as superior-oriented, the next citation reveals another approach to this subject. Instead of first looking to what the superior wants, this nun believes that one should first be obedient to oneself. The distinction is crucial for it places the sister on a par with her superior.and 902/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 enables her to exercise genuine responsibility for her own life. This is probably the most important characteristic of the innovative nuns because it seems to be that which distinguishes them most clearly from the others. Although these others often spoke about the necessity of being self-respon-sible, their 6rientation very frequently was to the community and their superiors. On the other hand~ the innovative nuns more frequently were willing to look beyond the institution for grappling with the issues of religious life and to examine any ideas in terms of where they might fit into their own lives, I believe in obedience to the Lord in tune with what is going on with my own inner' feelings, as contrasted to what I may believe in terms of the' voice 6f the superior although I don't deny that. I think you have to listen ¯. but I would say I would be more in tune with obedience to God; I would say that it's a little more,obedience to myself than I would say obedience to the vow or to the superior. Interestingly enough, one of the ways in which these women have sought to take responsibility for themselves is precisely in the area of the vows. One of the features that comes across very clearly is their desire to distinguish their understanding of the vows from the institutionalized ver-sion. This does not seem to mean an idiosyncratic interpretation of them that is divorced from what other approaches, even institutionalized ones, may offer. Instead, it seems to involve an effort to formulate a conception of the vows that takes into consideration what others,may say; but at the same time, ~it-attempts to create out of ,them an understanding that responds to the personal needs and goals of the individual herself. It should be pointed out that by the term "other interpretations" is meant sources of meaning outside the order, including the general culture, contemporary sourcbs' within the order, as well as the more traditional interpretations, whether they come from formal or informal sources. What seems to be crucial, .in any event, is the consciousness of these sisters of the difference between saying what others have understood what the vows mean and saying ,what they personally think they mean. I took these vows, but I thought. I'm doing my job, I'm praying, so don't b~ther me about the vows . !~ow looking back, I probably detached the vows from the life, or I said I have to take these vows in order to live this religious community life that I want to live. Now what's it like? ~ Now it's thinking about it and reflecting on it and saying there is some-thing more to this and I don't know what it is yet . I could tell you what ~ so and so says and what the books say, but personally., what do I think, Commitment in a R~ligious Order that's what I'm coming to. When you started to reexamine the vows, did you find yourself coming to a personal interpretation of them, or did you sifnply accept the given interpretation? Oh no! I made my own interpretation, and whether that's right or wrong, it's something l'm going to have to live with. No, I think it's my own personal thing . I have been attempting to distinguish creative responses to institutional demands from variant responses to these same demands. Hopefully, this has clarified the difference between the two. If 1 have been interpreting this material accurately, then a commitment can be said to be creative when the individual personally recognizes the primacy of her relationship with God in her life. That happens, it seems, as the individual assumes greater and greater responsibility for that relationship and the role of the order becomes more secondary as far as that relationship is concerned. In other words, the institution becomes a vehicle whereby a person can live out a way of life that she has created. As the following sistei~ asserted in ~ rather straightforward fashion, the order has become a means to an end hot arl end in itself. I say I commit myself to the Lord through this institution and I never expect that I will break that commitment to t~he Lord. I am not .always saying that 1 make a commitment to an institution: (I. Why no~t~ R. It's just the medium for me. Conclusions I ~began this paper by remarking that religious 9ommitment is often understood in a one dimensional way, as simply a commitment to Christ. Utilizing the insights of sociology, however, it is now possible.to see that religious commitment is a multi-dimensional affair which can often inter-fere with the fuller realization of a Christocentric lifestyle. For instead of a single focus on the proper spiritual characteristics of being a religious woman, this analysis found that members of an order can become more concerned about the instrumental, communal and normative dimensions of sisterhood. The result of this is a preoccupation with the means of religious life rather than its ends. Because this was a sociological analysis, it highlighted the fact that this preoccupation was, in part at least, the result of the order's necessary concern with its self-preservation. This does not mean, however, that such a preoccupation is inevitable. As the information concerning the more creative women has shown, it is also possible to relativize the impact of the " 2011 ] Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 social requirements of communal living and to begin to achieve the under-lying purpose of religious life. But to do this requires an effort on the part of the order to become sensitive to the effects its structures have on the spiritual journey of each of its members and an effort on the part of each member to be radically honest with himself or herself about the real con-cerns which occupy one's life in a religious setting. NOTES ~Marie Augusta Neal, "The Relation Between Religious Belief and Structural Change in Religiiaus Orders: Developing an Effective Measurement," Review of Religious Research 12, 1 (Fall, 1970), pp. 2-16. 2Helen Ebaugh, Out of the Cloister (University of Texas Press, Austin, 1977.). 3Lucinda San Giovanni, Ex-Nuns (Ables, Norwood, New Jersey, 1978). 4Rich~ard Schoenherno and Andrew Greeley, "Role Commitment Processes and the American Catholic Priesthood," American Sociological Review 39 (1974) pp. 417-426. ~Patricia Wittberg, "Transformations in Religious Commitment" REVIEW FOR RELI- ~31OtJS, Vol. 42 No. 2 (1985), pp. 161-170. 6Rosabeth Kanter, Commitment and Community (Harvard University Press, Cam-bridge, 1972). 7Ibid, p. 69: 8lbid, p. 69. 91bid, p. 67. ~ORobert Merton, ~Social Conformity, Deviation, and Opportunity Structures: A Comment on the Contributions of Dubin and Cloward," American Sociological Review 24 (1959), pp. 177-188. Two Forms of Consecrated Life: Religious and Secular Institutes David E O'Connor, S. T. Father O'Connor holds the chair of the Department of Church Law at Washington Theological Union and resides at Holy Trinity Mission Seminary (9001 New Hampshire Avenue; Silver Spring, Maryland 20910). His previous article in these pages was "Lay Associate Programs: Some Canonical and Practical Considerations," which appeared in last year's March/April issue. Th~ 1983 Revised Code of Canon Law in, canons 573-730 designates both religious and secular institutes as Institutes of the Consecrated Life. This is a new classification in church law, In its simplicity, it is open to some misunderstanding as a juridical oversimplification because, in fact, both types of institutes are very different. This may just be another exam-ple of the limitations of all canonical categories which are not capable of fully expressing the charisms and gifts of the Spirit to the Church. While the members of both forms of~the consecrated life do profess the evangeli-cal counsels of chastity, poverty and obedience, their lifestyles manifest two rather divergent forms of ecclesial dedication. The intention of this brief article is to explore some of the similarities and real differences between these two types of consecrated lives and to promote a better appreciation of the distinctiveness,~ the identity and the place each one has in the Church. Let it be stated at the outset that neither form of ecclesial dedication is presented as better or superior tO the other. While canonical religious life has been a recognized and important part of Church life for centuries, it has taken a variety of shapes and forms. Secular institutes, canonically and historically, have received ecclesial recognition only within the last fifty years and are still in the process of trying to have their uniqueness under- 205 906 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 .stood and appreciated. The new Code of Canon Law is a welcome and innovative move in this direction. It is a positive step forward in giving secular institutes the canon-ical identity and ecclesial status which they deserve. In canon 710, the new code describes a secular institute as one in which the Christian faithful living in the world strive for perfection in charity and work for the sanctifi-cation of the world, especially from within. Canon 607, §2 describes a religious institute as one in which the members, according to proper law, pronounce public vows, either.perpetual or temporary, which are to be renewed when they have lapsed, and live in common as brothers or sisters. A quick perusal of these canonical descriptions makes apparent some of the. differences between these two types of institutes. The members of secular institutes are to "live in the world" and work for its sanctification "especially from within." On the other hand, religious are to live "in com-mon as brothers or sisters" and profess "public" vows. These and other distinctive features of both forms of ecclesial dedication need to be more closely examined and elaborated upon in order to manifest the special style of consecration lived by the members of the different institutes. In order to facilitate this examination, a comparison of these two types of consecrated life has been organized under the following five headings: Secularity, Community Life, Apostolic Activity, Evangelical Counsels and Canonical Status. There will be, necessarily, some repetition involved because it is impossible to treat the distinctiveness of each institute without there being some overlapping of ideas. For example, it is not possible to consider the evangelical counsels as lived in religious institutes without considering them in the context of common life. Nor is it possible, to con-sider adequately the evangelical counsels as lived by members of secular institutes without examining them in the context of the secularity which is essential to the life of the members. I ask the reader to be patient in this matter as efforts are made to emphasize the genuine distinctiveness and special characteristics of each form of the consecrated life. Se~.ulariff. The primarY and foremost characteristic of secular institutes is that they are secular. This has been repeatedly emphasized in all the ecclesiasti-cal documents which address the nature and role of these institutes, from Provida Mater Ecclesia (February 2, 1947) and the Motu Proprio, Primo Feliciter (March 12, 1947), through the documents of Vatican II (1962-1965), especially ,Perfectae Caritatis,, 11, to the 1983 Code of Canon Law. It is "secularity" which totally colors the way oof life of the members and is the most significant characteristic of their consecrated way of life. Two Forms of Consecrated Ltfe/ 207 The members remain lay people or secular priests. They are not reli-gious ~nor are they expected to live in any manner which approximates or imitates the religious life.~ In every, sense of the term, they are to cultivate their consecrated secularity as ordinary people; living "in-the world and, as it were, from the world. "~ They should be involved in the social milieu and professional life proper to each member in the concrete circumstances of that member's place, time and culture. Indeed, members are to have a secular outlook and acknowledge themselves as "part" of the world and committed to sanctifying it from within) Hehce, the style of life of the lay members of a secular.,institu~te is that~ of a consecrated person living a rather inconspicuous and ordinary life, holding down a job or involved in a profession, while living alone or wi[h family or friends. Externally they will not appear to be different from any other lay person in a similar situation. Indeed, Pope John Paul II has encouraged them to develop their professional life and to be, at the level of Knowledge and experience, really competent in their specific field of endeavor.4 Religious, on the other hand, are required and expected by/heir own consecrated way of life to have a certain "separation from the world prpper to the character and purpose of each institute.'~ Obviously, this is expressed very differently by monastic communities and by apostolic reli-gious. Members of apostolic religious institutes frequent~ly find themselves immers~ed in the world with similar demands made upon them to have the professional competence required in their particular formJ of apostolate or ministry. Yet, at the same time, they may be more likely to think of themselves, while at the service of people and the Church,.as "being in the world, but not of it." Indeed, they are often readily identifiable as "Church-people" even if they are not wearing a habit or clerical garb. Furthermore, they often live in houses or convents associated with their ir~titutional apostolate which helps identify them as Church-workers. Thus their com-munity lifestyle and their corporate apostolate or form of ministry, in one sense, sets them apart and "separates" them from" the ordinary lifestyle of lay people. There are incarnational and eschatological dimensions" to the life of every Christian. However, it appears that the Church considers thai the incarnational should be especially clear in the Christian life of the dedicated laity and that the eschatological or transcendental should be-particularly manifested through the dedicated life of members of religious institutes. One form of the consecrated life the secular institute emphasizes the goodness of the world and of all God's creation (Gn l:3,1); the Other the religious institute emphasizes the radical discipleship of Jesus which involves some separation from or renunciation of the world (Jn 15:19). 901t / Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 Community Life Some form of life in common or community life has been a part of religious life from timeqmmemorial. It is a clear requirement of the new Code of Canon Law.6 Members of a religious community are to live in a house-of their own institute with their brothers or sisters and under the autl~ority of a religious superior.7 This is the place where they conduct their day-to-day life and offer their companionship and support to one another. It is the place where they gather about the eucharistic table and pray together. It is from there that apostolic religious reach out to others in a variety of ministries and dedicated ecclesial service. Therefore, some form of commu~nity life has been a perennial dimension of religious~ life and presented as an ecclesial witness of Christian love. The common life of religious does differ somewhat fro~a community to community, and is radically different for: monastic and apostolic religious. However, it is a necessary dimension of religious life and one of its special characteristics. Common life is not a part °of the consecrated life of members of secular institutes. While some institutes may have, as part of their particular tradi-tion, residences which belong to the institute, community life is not an expectation, requirement or characteristic of secular institutes in general. In fact, it has often been positively discouraged as contrary to a truly secular style of life and an unfortunate move toward the imitation of a life approp-riate to a religious institute. ~ The secular quality does not permit of community life on the part of mem-o ~rs, even as an option. It is too easy to slip from the notion of a "group" life to that of a "com.mon" life inconsistent with the personl liberty and the vari-ety of commitments which the ideal of presence in the world entails.8 The new 9od,e does not require the administrators or leaders of a secular institute to have their own residence, nor is it necessary to have a house where formation programs can be conducted.9 Members of secular i~stitutes are expected to live as ordinary lay people, either alone or with their families, or in a group as brothers and sisters.~0 Diocesan priests, who are members of a secular institute, likewise, are expected to live as the other priests in the diocese. That is, they are to live in the rectory to which they haye been assigned by their bishop. There is to be nothing unusual or exter-nally distinctive in their style of life in the world. However, as canon 716 of the code states, the members of a secular institute are urged to share actively in the institute according to their own proper law. They are to maintain a certain "communion" among them-selves arid carefully foster a unity of ~pirit and genuine relationships as brothers and sisters. The constitutions and statutes of each institute should specify how this is to be done, but should not imply that cohabitation or Two Forms of Consecrated Life / 209 any form of common life similar to that of religious is expected. It is the obligation of leaders and moderators in the institute to promo.te this spirit of unity and an active participation of the members)~ Apostolic Activity The new Code of Canon Law succinctly expresses the manner in which apostoli~ activity is to be exercised by the members o

Issue 56.6 of the Review for Religious, November/December 1997. ; Living NUMBER 6 Review for Religious is a forum for shared reflection ~n the lived experiehce of all who find that the church's rich" he~'m_ges .of spirituality ~upport tbei~ personal and apostolic Christian li6es. . The articles in the journal are meant to be informative, practical, or inspirationM, written front a~ tbeoflogical or spiritual or s6metimes canonical poin~ t of view. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis Universit3, by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: FOPPEMA@SLU.EI)U Manuscripts, book~ for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonot, gh OP 1150 Cedar Cove Road ¯ Henderson, NC 27536 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information o,1 subscription rates. ¢1997 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal nse, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institUtional promotion, or [br the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Regina Siegfried ASC Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Jean Read James and Joan Felling Iris Ann Ledden SSND Joel Rippinger OSB Edmundo Rodriguez SJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC Christian Heritages .and Contemporary Living NOVEMBER-DECEMBER 1997 # VOLUME56 ¯ NUMBER6 contents virtues Solidarity--More than a Polish Thing Marie Vianney Bilgrien SSND sheds light on the importance of solidarity as a virtue, especially in the preparation of the Synod for America. The Paradoxical Courage of Ananias John L. Barber draws a picture of the disciple Ananias in which the various attributes of his courage guide us in our Christian following. working together 578 587 A Quilt, a Council, and a Church Margaret Mary Knittel RSM proposes that the processes of quiltmaking and the processes of organizations call for an ever active interdependence among equal people before a loving God. Community--Healthy or Dysfunctional? Joel Giallanza CSC makes some practical observations about the choices we make for a healthy community life and describes various causes of dysfunction. 599 The Elderly among Us Eagan Hunter CSC reflects upon the importance of the elderly ~x~ among us for the vital continuity of our religious life. Revie~v for Religious 605 614 being missioned Interreligious Dialogue and the Jesuit Mission Thomas Michel SJ explains the beneficial implications of interreligious dialogue and describes the personal transformation that results. Misery Meets Mystery in Montenegro: A Survival Guide for North American Religious Annette M. Pelletier IHM pictures the "reason" for hope in the flourishing of consecrated life in North America by describing her experience of the people of the Peruvian pueblo Montenegro. perspectives 623 Itinerancy, Stability, and the Freedom of No-Where Brian J. Pierce oP examines the ascetic freedom common to apostolic itinerancy and monastic stability, the freedom both to go wherever God's Spirit moves us and to stay put wherever we have come to see that God dwells. 636 642 Grass-Roots Religious Jeanne McNulty OCV presents reflections on some new ways of living consecrated life. Jesus, Frogs, and Dancing Eileen P. O'Hea CSJ tells of the rich experience of an ever developing relationship with Jesus that deepens our love of God and love of neighbor. departments Prisms Canonical Counsel: Habit and Habitus: Current Legislation Book Reviews Indexes to Volume 56 November-December 1997 prisms Jesus Christ is the beginning and the end, the alpha and the omega, Lord of the new universe, the great hidden key to human history and the part we play in it. --Paul V-I, homily in Manila, 29 November 1970 ~esus presents us Christians with two inestimable gifts: familial intimacy with God and a share in divine vision. St. Paul speaks of God giving us wisdom to understand the mystery, "the plan he was pleased to decree in Christ, to be carried out in the fullness of time: namely, to bring all things in the heavens and on earth into one under Christ's headship" (Ep 1:9-10). Overwhelmed with the vastness of the vision, we rightly focus on the gift of intimacy. But, as we come to the end of each liturgical year, we receive reminders about the twinned vision which our relationship with Jesus entails. The many Gospel incidents of his curing blindness imply our need for Jesus to give us ever greater sight along with a deepening love relationship. One of the Gospel titles which Jesus elicits from us throughout our lives is "Teacher." As we continue to reflect on the Scriptures and receive graced insight into relationships and situations of our daily life, we become aware that Jesus remains our teacher as he was for the people during the time of his public ministry. A teacher provides information, presents new ways of seeing things, and makes connections with previous experiences, allow-ing further insights to develop. Through the gift of the Spirit, Jesus. continues giving all the richness of divine perspective. The Spirit's action gives hope to the church, whose vision is always in process of renewal. Through the focus of scripture readings during this changeover from Ordinary Time to Advent, the church faces each of us with our personal responsibility to examine whether we continue to deepen our relationship with Jesus and Review for Religious whether we allow Jesus to keep expanding our vision. The ques-tion for us: Do we seek out Jesus as our Teacher? If we enter into Matthew's final-judgment scene, how does Jesus find us "seeing" and dealing with our fellow men and women? With our aware-ness of ecological balance, how responsible are we to an envi-ronment given over to our care? Does "all things being created in him" affect our attitude of reverence in exploring Mars or some galaxy in the future? We talk about "getting stuck in our ways." We sometimes car-icature it as a special problem for the older person, but it has no age boundaries. We see children quickly get into certain ritualized ways of playing. We certainly know such patterns in our own behavior. In fact, prejudice is a fixed way of seeing or of relating. In the face of personal and historical evidence, it is a paradox to be engaged in a growing relationship with Jesus and at the same time to cling to prejudice. Does prejudice signal to us that we may be trying to focus myopically on the Jesus relationship without let-ring Jesus be Teacher for us? We may forget that faith vision is a grace always to be prayed for. Perhaps we have placed ourselves more in the position of Peter refusing to let his feet be washed, and we too need to hear Jesus' reprimand that unless we allow him to wash our feet (that is, allow our relationship with Jesus to affect our way of seeing and of acting) we will end up having no rela-tionship with him. We need to be challenged by the Pauline vision to enter into the divine pleasure of reconciling everything--both on the earth and in the heavens--in Christ. At the close of a liturgical year, as we listen to the Gospel accounts of end times and final-judgment scenes and then move on, in Advent, to the careful preparations for God's entering into our human history in Jesus, we realize anew how we are called to play our part in the cosmic vision--what St. Paul called "the mystery of Christ," the divine de, sign of salvation. Like St. Paul, we too want to make Christ known, hoping to make every human being complete in Christ, since in him--the image of the invisi-ble God--we see God's image of what it means to be human. And in our Christmas awe we continue to pray that we may have eyes to see that Mystery Incarnate, "the fullness of him who fills the universe in all its parts.'? David L. Fleming SJ The editors and staff of Review for Religious wish all our readers a most blessed Christmas and New Year! Noventber-Decevnber 1997 MARIE VIANNEY BILGRIEN SolidaritymMore than a Polish Thing virtues For too long, people have equated the concept of solidar-ity with the Solidarity Union Movement in Poland in the 1980s. On the other hand, many people have not paid any attention to solidarity because they thought of it either as a Polish thing or as just a passing event. For a few years solidarity generated written articles and symposiums after Pope John Paul II named solidarity a virtue in his 1987 encyclical Sollicitudo rei socialis. Can one birth new virtues in our religious tradition? I suspect one can, if one is pope and writing an encyclical. So maybe sol-idarity is a Polish thing! In any case, interest in the virtue soon died down. I know this because in 1994, when I was in Rome writing my dissertation tided Solidarity: d Principle, an Attitude, a Duty, or The Virtue for an Interdependent I4rorld, I seemed the only one interested in it--especially as a virtue. Yet there is a new surge of interest, due to the linea-menta prepared for the Synod of America titled Encounter with the Living.Jesus Christ: Vday to Conversion, Communion, and Solidarity. In the lineamenta, solidarity is referred to as a principle, a duty, and a virtue. Individuals and groups are urged to practice solidarity "to channel effective aid to groups and nations which suffer from poverty." Solidarity as a virtue is "a morally necessary reaction to the exis- Marie Viarmey Bilgrien SSND, director of the Hispanic ministry office in the diocese of Baker, may be addressed at P.O. Box 823; Madras, Oregon 97741 Review for Religious tence of injustice in social conditions" that affects many individ-uals and nations. Emphasizing the fact of interdependence, the lineamenta stresses that solidarity must be practiced not only by individual persons, but by entire peoples and nations, inasmuch as the world is economically, culturally, and politically more and more interconnected. What one country does regarding migra-tion, the use of natural resources, the drug trade, genetic manip-ulation, international economic relations, and so forth affects many other countries. The lineamenta stresses that solidarity is part of the church's social teaching and is to be practiced by everyone (§55); it explains as does Sollicitudo rei socialis that, if we want to undo the structures of sin so prevalent in our world, the solution lies in the moral realm. Just as sins of individuals create structures of sin that take on a hideous existence of their own, "an all-consuming desire for profit and thirst for power," so too acts of the virtue of solidarity by individuals, groups, and nations can build up structures of virtue that have a "decisive influence on economic programs and policies, on social communication, on culture, on healthcare, and so forth" not only locally but also nationally and internationally. It will be interesting to see how the idea of solidarity plays out in the meetings and documents of the Pan-America synod. Solidarity has a longer history than most people realize. It appears five times in the Latin of the Vatican II documents: twice in Apostolicam actuositatem, §8 and §14, and three times in Gaudium et spes, §§4, 32, and 57. In reading the texts one can glean that solidarity has an important spiritual dimension. It is a part of charity and has an individual and a universal dimension. It creates a responsibility to act. Jesus' incarnation shows his and God's sol-idarity with humanity. Our response to that gift is the practice of solidarity, recognizing that we are one family, that we have received gifts and talents to be used cooperatively--for the good of the whole family. Paul VI used the idea of solidarity extensively, especially in Populorumprogressio (see §§17, 43, 44, 48, 62, 64, 73, 80, and 84). It also appears in the Italian translation of Pius XII's encyclical Summipontificatus in 1939. He understood solidarity as the unity Jesus" incarnation shows his and God's solidarity with humanity. November-December 1997 Bilgrien ¯ SolidaritymMore than a Polish Thing of the human race, our.common origin from our Creator, sharing a "common habitation, this world of ours whose resources every-one has a natural right to enjoy., as they are needed for preser-vation and self-development." John Paul has been writing about solidarity since 1969. In his book The Acting Person, in describing personal development, he devotes a whole chapter to the necessity of attitudes of both oppo-sition and solidarity for the true and complete development of mature persons. In naming solidarity a virtue, he gives it greater importance. What does that mean? Solidarity as an attitude, duty, or principle only helps people to do the right thing, but as a virtue it helps them to become good. Duty implies decision and action, but virtue implies a disposition, a power, a perfection. Duty asks, What should I do? Virtue asks, How should I be? Virtue helps us do the right thing for the right reason. Solidarity is a virtue not only for individual persons, but also for groups working together and for nations in a world that is ever more interdependent. Solidarity is the virtue that can move society to the good. Solidarity is the virtue that can transform persons and society. In describing the virtue in Sollicitudo rei socialis, John Paul says that it is the response to relationships in a world that is inter-dependent; "it is a firm and persevering determination to commit oneself to the common good" (§38). He adds that the virtue is valid only when we recognize others as human persons, equal in dignity; when we feel responsible for those who are weaker--the poor (§39). In two paragraphs he lays out the components of the virtue of solidarity: interdependence, the common good, the dignity of the person, the preferential option for the poor. Solidarity recognizes that people, nations, all of creation are interconnected. What happens in one area of the world can have tremendous effects in another part. The actions of individuals, nations, and blocs of nations either increase the structures of sin (thirst for power, all-consuming desire for profit, ethnic wars, unjust wages, inhuman working conditions, patterns of violence and sexual abuse) or can build up structures of virtue (cooperative efforts to bring about a more just world and preserve the integrity of creation: the United Nations, groups concerned about ecol-ogy, peace-and-justice commissions, and so forth). Solidarity as a virtue recognizes people as equal in dignity and worthy of respect. Solidarity as a virtue sees each person as a Review for Religious member of the world family, as an image and likeness of God. Instead of looking at others as simply other, solidarity helps us to see them as neighbors, as brothers and sisters. From this flow the importance and necessity of working together to preserve the human family and the integrity of creation. Some of this can be seen in the work of the U.N. as it sends groups to work with refugees or promote peace between warring eth-nic groups. One sees the virtue in Doctors with-out Frontiers, who work in many parts of the world, and in other volunteer groups promot-ing health, education, and housing in poor coun-tries of the world. In accepting and recognizing the human dignity of each person, there must be a focus on those who are poorest. Both John Paul and Paul VI noted that their eyes were opened to the poor during their travels to Latin America and India. When one stands in a different place, one sees differently. Moving out from the Vatican palace to the streets of Calcutta and the barrios of Rio de Janeiro changes the view. Their eyes were opened; their awareness of people's suffering intensified. After those journeys, both popes talked more and more strongly about the necessity of "an option for the poor." In Sollicitudo rei socialis John Paul explains that a preferential option is not an exclusive option, but is a "firm and irrevocable option." Solidarity with its component of an option for the poor helps us to see the wider issues, the intertwining of systems and structures that oppress the poor rather than raise them up. Somewhere, in solidarity's judgment, the poor have a role. It is not true solidarity if the poor are overlooked or treated with conde-scension. In each judgment that is made, each action taken, one should ask: How will this affect the poor? The real goal of an option for the poor is to move beyond helping them and provid-ing care. The goal is for the poor to be authors of their own actions, to make their own decisions, decisions that are effective in moving them from poverty to participation in society. The goal is for them to be no longer .treated as children incapable of tak-ing care of themselves, but to participate in decision making so that the effects of solidarity are felt by all and begin to reshape the unjust structures that keep the poor poor. Only when the poor Solidarity recognizes that people, nations, all of creation are interconnected. November-December 1997 Bilgrien ¯ Solidarity--More than a Polish Thing are treated with full dignity will the virtue of solidarity begin to flourish in all its splendor. What is at stake is the common good, the good of all and the good of each individual, and solidarity is the virtue that commits everyone to the common good. Solidarity directs nations to sub-ordinate their national interests for the good of the planet, for the good of all. Solidarity directs individuals to transcend their greed and selfishness and focus on the good of the whole. Our years of selfishness, of greed for power and money, have caused havoc in the environment and have placed future genera-tions in jeopardy. No one can quash worrisome questions about the "greenhouse effect," about the dangers of the ozone level in the atmosphere, and about unknown effects of massive deforesta-tion and the continuous piling up of industrial waste. We continue to kill our planet. The widespread experimentation and manipula-tion in the biological sciences has outrun our ability to make moral decisions. Those decisions or indecisions will have for future gen-erations repercussions that we cannot predict. Solidarity is the virtue that can bring us to a greater consciousness of the importance of our moral decisions. Solidarity, by focusing the common good, reminds us that the differences of race, gender, ethnicity, culture, and economic status do not have to be divisive. Solidarity is the virtue for the third millennium. It has the capacity to inform interdependence in such a way that persons, peoples, countries, and nations will relate to each other equally, as members of the same family. Solidarity as a virtue orders actions and relationships towards the common good. It is the virtue that can transform a world of unjust structures, structures of sin, into structures of virtue, structures of justice, family structures. The general secretariat of the Synod of Bishops in its working paper has begun to answer the call of John Paul to unite all peoples of the Western Hemisphere and offers the practice of solidarity as one of the ways to solve the massive problems and inequities of the two continents. Conversion, communion, and solidarity in, with, and through Jesus Christ will be important on the journey into the third millennium. Solidarity is only the beginning. Review for Religious JOHN L. BARBER The Paradoxical Courage of Ananias anlthe pages of the sacred text, we find many courageous, but so human, people. One .such bold, authentic person was Ananias of the Book of Acts. The prelude to his encounter with Paul (then named Saul) is recorded as follows: A disciple called Ananias who lived in Damascus had a vision in which he heard the Lord say to him, "Ananias!" When he replied, "Here I am, Lord," the Lord said, "You must go to Straight Street and ask at the house of Judas for someone called Saul, who comes from Tarsus. At this moment he is praying and having a vision of a man called Ananias coming in and laying hands on him to give him back his sight." When he heard that, Ananias said, "Lord, several people have told me about this man and all the harm he has been doing to your saints in Jerusalem. He has only come here because he holds a warrant from the chief priest to arrest everybody who invokes your name." The Lord replied, "You must go all the same, because this man is my chosen instru-ment to bring my name before pagans and pagan kings and before the people of Israel. I myself will show him how much he himself must suffer for my name." Then Ananias went. (Ac 9:10-16)~ We know very little about Ananias, other than what we glean from this short account in Acts; he was "a disciple" of Jesus and lived in Damascus. Rather than being a longtime citizen of that city, our Ananias may have been a refugee from the persecution of Christians in Jerusalem. Though this is uncertain, we will John L. Barber, a lawyer, married and the father of two college-age sons, is also a lay minister at St. Paul's Episcopal Church. He writes to us from 600 Nokomis Court; Winston-Salem, North Carolina 27106. November-Decentber 1997 Barber ¯ The Paradoxical Courage of Ananias Saul is not only a real person, but also a symbol for the challenge to move from what we know, from safety, into the unknown and risk. --y-72J assume that he was indeed one who had fled from religious oppression. From Paul's address to the Jews of Jerusalem, we learn he was also "a devout follower of the Law and highly thought of by all the Jews living" in Damascus (Ac 22:12). Apparently his name was a common one, for in Acts we meet two other Ananiases. The first appears in chapter 5--Sapphira's husband, who lied to the Holy Spirit--and in chapter 23 we encounter the other, the high priest who ordered Paul struck on the mouth. In the same type of human plight in which our faith is tested, the constancy of Ananias was tried. In this sense Saul is a metaphor for those predicaments into which we must walk, involving a difficult or dangerous person or situation and presenting some risk from which we fear harm. The potential injury we face may not be as grave as the arrest and imprisonment that Ananias dreaded. Nonetheless, to us it feels and seems harmful, and we are afraid. As we journey on our Christian pilgrimage, all of us must face our own fear-provoking Sauls. Who are these Sauls for us? They are those places and people to which we would not go, were it not for God leading, moving, and stirring us and urging us to grow. They are life passages and problems we would not engage in, were it not for God inviting us or interrupting our lives. Saul may appear in life passages such as a midlife crisis or that time when the last child leaving home creates what is commonly called "the empty nest." In these interruptions we lose our bearings. Our "Saul" in them is the challenge of finding our direction again and reorienting ourselves. They might be crises like a divorce or the death of a spouse or loved one, the loss of a job or dissatisfaction with one's career. In these situations we face Saul when we are forced out of our ruts to seek new or renewed meaning for life. Saul is not only a real person, but also a symbol for the chal-lenge to move from what we know, from safety, into the unknown and risk. He is a sign for that time in life when our devotion to God demands concrete but hazardous action. We may find our Sauls in people with whom we have some Review for Religious confrontation, particularly if we are conflict avoiders. On the other hand, the Saul could be a confrontation with our own selves as we meet the challenge of seeing the truth in our own failings and weaknesses, limitations andsins, and dysfunctions and addic-tions. The dangerous Saul might be the challenge of learning healthier ways of relating and living. These types of self-con-frontation, in which we face the painful reality in our own hearts, can require even more courage than conflict with others. Typically, life's Sauls, in the guise of hard and risky challenges, involve both types of encounters: encountering self and encountering another person or some passage or crisis. For both of these, fortunately, we have a guide in the person of Ananias: he faced his own fear and Saul as well. A pattern for a bold Christian spirituality, he presents, when viewed from dif-ferent angles, a multidimensional courage. What, then, were some of the facets of his intrepidity? His Christian courage involved at least five attributes: openness before God, obedience, reluc-tance, calculated surrender, and the gift of grace. Openness before God The characters of the Bible portray many different stances or postures vis-~a-vis God. The prophet Jonah tried "to get away from Yahweh" (Jon 1:3). In Genesis, after Adam and Eve suc-cumbed to temptation, they hid from the Lord God who came to them "walking in the garden in the cool of the day." Ananias, on the other hand, was neither taking flight nor hiding. While he may have fled the persecution in Jerusalem, he did not flee from God. The Lord did not have to say to him, "Ananias, where are you?" as he did to Adam (Gn 3:8-10) or unleash "a violent wind on the sea" as he did against Jonah (Jon 1:4). Instead, Ananias had laid, himself bare before God, saying, "Here I am, Lord. Speak, your servant is listening." This "I-tere I am, Lord" stance in the presence of God is the courageous spirituality. Living "out there," in front of God, is the stalwart posture of discipleship. It is scary to live openly before God. What sins will God allow us to see? How will the glow of his love and the heat of his righteousness feel on our faces? What sufferings that our broth-ers and sisters endure will we, too, be privileged to face? What will the Lord ask us to do? For example, we pray earnestly, longing to hear God as clearly as Ananias did. Then, L.f-73 November-December 1997 Barber ¯ The Paradoxical Courage of Ananias when we do, we are hesitant to do what God has asked of us. We question God, saying, "Lord, did you really say what I thought you said?" or "God, I wanted you to speak to me, but I really don't want to do what you asked." Hiding from God among the trees of the garden is the spir-ituality of fear. Taking flight from God is the spirituality of escape. Openness before God is the spirituality of Ananias. Obedience The obedience of Ananias flowed out of his openness before God. This aspect of courage led to another, that of obedience. Courage for the Christian is different from bravery in other con-texts. For the believer, courage is connected to our obedience to God. An outgrowth of Ananias's openness was his vision in which he heard God speak, a time of intent listening for and to the voice of God. According to author Henri Nouwen, there is a com-monalty between obedience and intent listening. The word obe-dience springs from the Latin ob-audire, which signifies intent listening? Such intent listening is an act of courage in itself. For, if we begin to listen, we may come to know the sound of God's voice. And, if we come to know the sound of the voice, we may actually hear it. And, if we hear what God has to say to us, we are left in a dilemma of response and answer, as was Ananias. Reluctant Courage In our society we tend to view brave people as those who have no fear. In fact, the word "fearless" is a synonym for "courage." Yet, if we wait until we have no fright or consternation before we take a particular action, we will never act; for who among us is never afraid? This, however, is all-or-nothing thinking. Instead of being either valiant or afraid, we are simultaneously both3--valiant and afraid. Bravery, in truth, is action in spite of fear. In the face of the terror which looks us straight in the eyes, courage is a life stance or attitude which enables us to go to that dreadful place where God may be leading and we otherwise would not travel. For Ananias, bravery existed coexisted with his fear. He was obviously afraid of Saul, who journeyed to Damascus "still breath-ing threats to slaughter the Lord's disciples" (Ac 9:1). Having ReviewforReligious heard the Lord, Ananias responded by saying, "But, Lord, let me point out a few things to you. This Saul is a dangerous man. He might arrest me and put me in prison. I've already fled Jerusalem to get away from persecution, and now you want me to walk straight back into it." There is no evi-dence that Ananias ever got over being afraid of Saul. Although he was reluctant in his fear of Saul, Ananias nevertheless responded in faithfulness to the voice of God. He went to Saul in and with his fear. Following the example of Ananias, courage for the Christian exists not in overcoming our human- Courage for the Christian exists not in overcoming our humanity, but in our humanity. ity, but in our humanity. For the Christian, courage lives where there is obedience to the voice of God in spite of a very real dread. A Calculated Surrender For the Christian, courage is also an ambiguous place of ten-sion between knowing and counting the costs of our obedience, on the one hand, and, on the other, surrendering to consequences of our listening to God that are yet unknown. It is action flowing out of a paradoxical wisdom and foolishness. Whatever we might say about Ananias, he counted the cost of obeying God. He knew the risks. About our Ananias, there was a certain sophistication and wisdom. He had a firm grip on life as it really is, including the ugly part, particularly if he was a refugee from the persecution in Jerusalem. As a realistic person, his brav-ery was not a gullible one. Arrest, prison, stoning, persecution-- he knew very well what he might be getting into if he obeyed God and went to Saul. He was regardful of the reality of this man, who "entirely approved of the killing" of Stephen and "worked for the total destruction of the Church" by going "from house to house arresting both men and women and sending them to prison." (Ac 8:1 and 3). While he was well acquainted with the kind of man he was, his encounter with Saul also held a very real terror of the unknown and unfamiliar. Ananias did not know whether he would survive this ordained meeting or be stoned to death. Though we count the costs of our obedience, we still cannot know the ultimate out- Noventber-December 1997 Barber ¯ The Paradoxical Courage of Ananias come. The future cannot be envisioned. An old Jewish proverb says that "man plans but God laughs." Despite our best planning we cannot eliminate all surprises and exigencies. For the Christian, courage involves surrender into the hidden outcome of our obe-dience. In our confrontations we must know the risks we face. We are called to be wise as serpents. At the same time we cannot fore-see all the risks, and so our courage must have some element of surrender in it. In facing others we miglit lose our jobs, endure retribution, or suffer alienation in relationships. In the passages and crises of life, we might be forced from our comfortable lifestyle to one of greater risk as well as service and deeper mean-ing. In discovering ourselves as we really are, we may feel the heat of God's gaze with an intensity similar to the sun shining through a magnifying glass. Discomforting it is to see both the chaff and the wheat of the ripening crop of our own lives. Ananias's intrepidity was not naive, but one rooted in reality. Nonetheless, it involved a letting go of his life and relinquish-ment to God. If we are to be brave Christians, we must enter the place of tension between counting the cost and surrender. Gift of Grace We return to the name Ananias. For actors in the Biblical drama, a name was significant. So it was for Ananias. His name is derived from the Hebrew name Hananiah, meaning "the Lord is gracious" or "the Lord shows grace." For us to hear God's voice, the Lord must speak--which in itself is a special grace. With its limited resources, our own courage can take us only so far. Then, in order to heed the sound of God's voice, we come to the point where our humanity needs a healthy dose of grace. God's gra-ciousness is our access to Christian courage that is required of us if we are to be disciples. Grace is the window through which we step from hiding before God to the presence of God. Grace is the threshold which we cross from a fearful inaction to an obe-dience of reluctant courage. The irony of Christian courage is that it requires both a personal achievement and a gift from God. Living openly before God, Ananias of Damascus exposed him-self to hear whatever the Lord might say. Once he heard the voice of God, he responded in obedience. But his response was a human one of courage in its reluctance and hesitancy in its bravery. Review for Religious Realistic in his intrepidity, he both knew the risk and counted the cost of going to Saul. At the same time, he abandoned himself to the unknown consequences. Then he relied on God's grace so that he might be obedient to his voice. To varying degrees we are all Ananiases, whom William Barclay called "one of the forgotten heroes of the Christian Church." The mystery is that we are persons of paradox--as was Ananias; reluctantly courageous, calculated in our surrender, and obedient through grace--as was Ananias. Notes ~ Scripture quotations are from the Jerusalem Bible. 2 Seeds of Hope: A Henri Nouwen Reader, ed. Robert Durback, p. xxix. 3 I am indebted to Maurice Briggs MA for this insight about "all or nothing" or "either!or" thinking ove? and against "both/and" thinking. Rev. Briggs is a member of the faculty in the Department of Chaplaincy and Pastoral Education at North Carolina Baptist Hospital, Winston- Salem, North Cai'olina. Advent Cave Plato knew about the dark, how we prisoners face the wall in chains, only the fire b~hind us letting us see the m~oving shadows we call real. Far above, looms the door to light, reachable only by those who turn ~ away,from all they know. Wisdom, who lived in the cave at Nazareth where parents made a home and carried water to thefire, sitting at night in quiet, thoughts and the animals dozing near embers, the dying light, after a day of learning the real, calls us to turn and face the door. Evelyn Mattern November-Deconber 1997 MARGARET MARY KNITTEL | A Quilt, a Council, and a Church working together The quilt movement should be preserved as a col-lective enterprise with an ethical concern. If taken seriously as women's art, quilts cannot be perceived and enjoyed as isolated aesthetic objects divorced from the relationships of women to each other and to the rest of humankind. Quilts emin~ently pose the question of how one behaves in the asking and viewing of art. --Radka Donnell, Quilts as Women's Art Twenty years ago I took several tries at developing skills "for the home," sensing at first blush of midlife that my. more productive impulses would require something for my hands to do in my old age. Firs~t, there were the needlepoint classes, ~e.~n quilting. Quiltmaking is not for the faint of heart. As a dropout from Advanced Quilting, I can attest to the shaky feeling in the knees when faced with what appears to be an infinite number of steps. This quiltmaking episode would be instructive. As I have come to understand them, both quiltmaking and organizations involve mutuality and interdependence as essential pro-cesses within their respective collective enterprises. A Collective Enterprise In quiltmaking, the mutuality and interdependence of the women are reflected in th~ final product. Design, tex- Margaret Mary Knittei RSM works as a grants consultant for nonprofit organizations. She may be addressed at P.O. Box 634; Geneva, Illinois 60134. Review for Religious ture, color, and template come together through their hands, through their spirit shaping. "Quilts are healing because they accept the uniqueness, the positive difference, and the mortal limit of each human being."1 A quilt's design, texture, color, and template over a period of time will collect these human beings and express their individualities anew. Design, texture, color, template .become interdependent, one with the others, to bring beauty to the whole. The overall design of a quilt needs a working principle, a template, to express the color and'the texture, to specify the difference. One shape, a tri-angle for example, can be the basic design of countless quilts~ The textures of various fabrics add to color and design, with the template giving the basic shape. Color in all its bold or modest hues as textured by the various materials gets a specific shape and then is pieced'into a growing design. The mutuality and interdependence among the quiltmakers affirm them all. Positive differences go somewhere into a future, not wasting time with empty words of control; rather, they speak of vision. Limit recognizes this is a bordered piece, this quilt, and we its .shapers affirm the grace of the moment~, knowing it could be the grace of a lifetime. .Quiltmaking is a healing image, one that includes authentic conversation, meaning-filled relationships, among the people sharing the brganizational life of a parish, a religious community, a church. "Religion here is the sensation of being one with the whole, of belonging, not of subjection.''~ The virtues of quilt-making are the virtues of a healthy human organization. A Demo~cratic and Affirming Mission . Radka Donnell says in her perceptive book: "To the work of piecing quilts I was silently called, and i( took me years to sort 6ut the problems it revealed and the-difficulties it created. The early groups of contemporary quiltmakers were inspired by a sense of mission. If not expressly feminist in each case, this mission certainly was democratic and affirmative of each individual quiltmaker a'nd each quilt. (p. 6) The metaphor of quiltmaking can remind us of the Second Vatican Council's challenge to the church to accept both its divine mission and the human organization called to participate in thLa$t-7-9 November-December 1997 Knittel ¯ A Quilt, a Council, and a Church mission. Facing problems and difficulties, it is an organization capable of error, of hurt and pain, in search of truth, in sea.rch of healing and grace. During the thirty and more years since the council's call, at times its substantive energy seems depleted and diminished; but ultimately, in the hearts of people, the message will never be muffled or suffocated. The post-Vatican church as organization, as. human organi-zation, seems destined for democratic and affirming conversa-tions. That kind of, change and growth lies in the hands of all believers, as people seated as equals around a corporate quilt. If we are quiet.like the quiltmakers, we still hear, from the heart of the council, that call, that sense of being missioned, to the inclu-sive and respectful goodness of lives lived to the full in the sight of God. Our lives continue on, and as we look desperately for mileposts we acknowledge we are still on the way. Concerns for democratically and respectfully affirming connections become earnest calls for better ways of being together, whether it be in a parish, a religious community, or the church universal. Religious organizations, as human organizations, need to face their corporate humanity. A corporate way of being human is important, whether we admit or deny the fact, whether we like it or not. The foibles of people's human interaction can be acutely felt at an individual level. Often, however, corporate humanity recognizes the problems only after many have been hurt. Words like "low morale" or "uncooperative" become blame tags. The dilemma for leadership is that, when you blame, you do not lead. The nature of bureaucracies is to maintain power, no. matter what the cost. The church needs to ask itself just how bureau-cratic it wants to be. If it chooses to be increasingly pastoral, it will find that parishes, religious orders, dioceses, and the church uni-versal will raise new questions, demand new ways of~behaving. Within a bureaucratic church organization, the individual-- parishioner, ~priest, vowed religious, bishop, employee--will mat-ter less than the maintenance of power: posturing, identifying totally with power, seeking to dominate. To survive, members might feel they must be subservient in one way or another. Within a bureaucracy the common good is co-defined with the maintenance of the organization itself. More time and energy are given to protecting a bureaucratically bungled decision than to thinking through afresh what is happening. Things as we hard known them remain the same. In the face of an entrenched Review for Religious bureaucracy, the better educated, the more aware, may leave. Feeling tokenism and lack of care, they may go off, re,searching for their soul. For those who stay, the mission seems dissolved within the bureaucratic. Doing the task mindlessly and relating to self, oth-ers, and God make it all bearable. Fair Dealing Radka Donnell makes this observation about quiltmaking: To be interested in the theory and practice of quiltmaking means to look for fair dealing between women, as well as between men and women. It indicates a readiness to fight against all obstacles preventing us from creating a better world together. (p. 72) One systems view of organizations sees them as made up of four equal subsystems, mutually interdependent in their rela-tionships. These four separate and different subsystems are called the task, the structure, informal groups, and the individual. These four separate and different subsystems function optimally when all are equal to one another in importance and mutually interde-pendent in their relating. If one of these subsystems puffs up, the whole system is affected. The other subsystems get leaned upon, diminishing their contributions within the whole. If one of these subsystems withers, the functioning whole likewise suffers, gets skewed. Parishes; religious communities, and the church universal as human organizations are distinct systems. Each could be said to consist of the four subsystems of task, structure, informal groups, and the individual. The Task as Subsystem. The task in a. religious community would be its charism, the unique mission of a community as per-ceived within the Catholic tradition in its particular context. Similarly, a parish has a particular local task to accomplish. A contemplative group of religious women varies from an active one, and0an inner-city parish from a suburban one. While each participates in a still larger system, locally they are themselves separate organizations. Over time numerous activities accrete to any organization, but its central mission remains. Confusion, dif-ferences, outright hostilities occur when an important question is not acknowledged or goes unasked: "Just who does the sending, November-December 1997 Knittel ¯ A Quilt, a Council, and a Church the missioning?" Is it God, a founder or foundress, this hospital, a church, the history of a town or city? The Structure as Subsystem. The second subsystem to be looked at here is structui'e or governance. Within a community or a parish, we all know the persons making up the structure. Vv'hether community government be elected or discerned, it finds itself in Whether community government be elected or discerned, it finds itself in a quandary of expectations from membership, and from itself. a quandary of expectations from mem-bership and from itself. Likewise, a new pastor looking around for the first time feels various expectations arising. Leadership needs to lead, but, when it does, its performance may not fit pre-conceived notions. Then leadership may be tempted to resist the future; to lean back and maintain the present, and hence to end up reissuing the past. Leadership in the ideal sustains the vision of the common good, which in itself is a process both democratic and affirming. A structure ideally assumes lines and processes of accountability that are at .once just and active. Leapfrogging .and micromanaging from a0distant central office can bypass managers and commit-tees on the scene and violate the rights of the organization itself. Again, if local people .spontaneously blurt out their evaluation of an associate pastor at a parish council meeting, they bypass proper procedures and strip away the individual's right to an appropriate evaluation of job performance. The structure, we need to remem-ber, is one of four equal and interdependent, subsystems contex~ tualized within an organization. Informal Groups as Subsystem, The informal groups in an orga-nization would be various clusters of individuals espousing simi-lar norms and sanctions among themselves. They appear neutral in a well-functioning organization, manifesting as they do a nat-ural affinity of persons. Sometimes, however, an informal group skews an organization, a company, a religious community, or a parish by losing sight of the larger task, the mission, the com-mon good, and seeking its own way of goverfiing the whole. The informal group may try to impose its own values on the majority in any number of ways: by inclusion, exclusion, intimidation, and oppression, by pushing to be the most holy, the most dedicated to Review for Religious the poor, the most attentive to keeping the church intact, the most pro-life. Many masks can disguise the will for power over others, and an informal group in any organization can obscure and even obliterate the vision. The Individual as Subsystem. The fourth subsystem within this model of organization is the individual. Individuals and the moti-vations they bring to the organization impact the entire system. The recognition of the variety of motivations at play within any group can be a sobering and staggering realization. From studies on the impact of opportunity in organizations, we know that the "anointed" in organizations, those high flyers who move quickly through ~the ranks, are given life through our desire to observe them as winners. We endow their ideas and words with more credibility. We entrust them with more resources and better assignments. We have already decided that they will succeed, and so we continu-ally observe them with the expectation that they will con-firm our beliefs.3 The anointed individual in this language of organization-as-system distorts the life of the organization, overshadowing struc-ture, informal groups, task or mission, and other individuals. Other members give over their .truth, their experience, and, in thus surrendering their individual dignity, they suffocate the pos-sibility of democracy or the achievement of the common good. The anointed individual becomes a god. Within a church or reli: gious organization the confusion of gods for God needs contin-ued sorting. Self-Healing Among her comments about quilting, Radka Donnell says: The.more the system gets into high gear, the more self-he~ aling is needed. (pp. 126-127) In church organizations, isolation and wrongly constructed obediences sometimes intensifies the claim of the few to be anoint-eds. A particular organization's structure, informal groups, and task or mission could conceivably be dominated by an anointed; in this mix, religious language might be used to cover ambition, to anoint the anointed. A wonderful scene from the movie Richard 111 swipes at the capacity of religious language to cover up. Richard, pretending to be secluded and hard at prayer, emerges to be "convinced." to November-Dece~nber 1997 Knittel ¯ A Quilt, a Council, and a Church accept the English throne he has serpentinely plotted and mur-dered to acquire, Knowing that people consider him in some way the anointed one, he now considers himself a god. He becomes increasingly foreign to those around him, and later he meets defeat in battle. Have we ever looked on when a locally anointed individual (now apparently feeling godlike as well) strongly inserted irrele-vant and impertinent opinion into a community or parish com-mittee, spilling the work of months down the drain? Numbers of those very committee members, still ~motionally inclined to attribute greater knowledge and perhaps even a cosmic wisdom to the anointed one, may find themselves recoiling in disarray. Can we recall an experience in our lifetime when an individual crashed through the lines of accountability appropriate to structure, manipulated informal groups by feeding them what they want to hear, and used language of mission or church or patriotism to keep the advantage? Is this the call of the prophetic, we. wonder, as we give over our own individual power to this other individual, the anointed? "Prophetic ministry consists of offering an alternative perception of reality and in letting people see their own history in the light of God's freedom and his will for justice.''4 The test suggested is whether the anointed gives space for us to reflect courageously on our 'individual histories "in the light of God's freedom." To con-tinually strive to see one's own history in God's light will be to know our own history, our own experience, anew each time. This is not a blaming game, an unhealed existence, or a quick fix with aphorisms, but a genuine opening in my life, your life, for healing, for Jesus the Christ. Self-healing is not a plastic therapy for believers, but an engagement with a living. God. The question remains: Does the message of an. anointed one leave room for all these variables, for the lights of a freeing God? Margaret Wheadey contrasts the "anointed" individual within an organization to the "dead" individual. Others in organizations go unobserved, irrevocably invisi-ble, bundles of potential that no one bothers to look at. Or they receive summary glances, are observed to be "dead," and are thereafter locked into jobs that provide them with no opportunity to display their many pote.ntials,s A post-Vatican II church unfurled to Catholics a new way of being, and we need to revisit those challenges. Dying to self, we Review for Religious have come to increasingly realize, never meant not unbundling our own gifts, our own graces, as we become acquainted with them. Our own baptismal anointing as Christians, no longer a vague memory, becomes a constant call. But, alas, we knew that struggling to be "undead"--not be to an anointed, just to be undead--would have its own price, Declaring the king to be naked in a bureaucracy brings life-mark-ing, career-reversing implications. A question, a deviation, could bring death-dealing expulsion from the informal life of the group or from the larger organization itself. Each person having and wanting to have influence, each want-ing to "see their own history in the light of God's freedom," becomes incessantly difficult if declared or assumed to be among the "dead." The equality of persons within an organization is the paradigm for the equality of each subsystem in the model offered here. Puffing up one impinges upon all the others. Withering one depletes all. Equality equates to mutuality among members. The Incessant Pursuit The church, embracing sinners in her bosom, is at the same time holy and always in need of being purified, and inces-santly pursues the path of penance and .renewal. (Lumen gentium, §8) The processes of quiltmaking and the processes of organiza-tions call for an incessant pursuit of mutuality and interdepen-dence among women and men equal before a loving God. The Second Vatican Council invited the church of the 20th century to know both its humanity and its wonder. If parishes, orders of women and men religious, and the church universal in a post-Vatican II church accept themselves as corporate human organizations, they will steadily come to under- Stand the strengths and pitfalls that accompany such aggregate groups, The rich heritage of the church cannot afford to forget that it is an organization of human persons. Such forgetting rehearses feudal futility. There is both frailty and strength in its organizational life. At the level of shared humanity, frailties and strengths within any group will always be fa!i'ly evident. To deny this shared humanity is to set up the religious organization as exempt from the foibles and frets that indeed call on God for its life principle. Novetnber-Decentber 1997 Knittel ¯ A Quilt, a Council, and a Church "The church, or, in other words, the kingdom of Christ now pres-ent in mystery, grows visibly in the world through the power of God" (LG §3). To deny the church's humanness is to deny the power of God. As we continue to unpack that sublimely historic event we fondly call "the council," there is more to do, more to remind others about, more for ourselves to be .reminded about. The Roman Catholic Church as a religious organization, ceasing to gloss over its frail corporate humanity, will come to understand its corporateness at a more profound level. The church as a human organization will come to truly trust in the mystery of its shared life of faith in Jesus the Christ. This living quilt we call "church" calls to a people deeply conversant with a living God. Notes I Radka Donnell, Quilts as Women's Art: A Quilt Poetics (North Vancouver, Canada: GaIlerie Publications, 1990), p. 425. 2 Dorothee Soelle, Theology for Skeptics (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1995), p. 28. 3 Margaret J. Wheadey, Leadership and the New Science (San Francisco: Berrett-Koehler Publishers, 1994), p. 60. 4 Walter Brueggemann, The Prophetic Imagination (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1978), p. 110. s Wheatley, pp. 60-61. Subscriptions to Review for Religious can now be ordered or renewed by I~AX and.paid for by MasterCardor ~sa. FAX the order form inside the back cov~r~ or CALL our office with, you~r.tcgedit carol numbi~r:.? o. FAX: 314-~-7-7362 ¯ PHONE: 314297727363 Review for Religious JOEL GIALLANZA Communitym Healthy or Dysfunctional? ~or these reflections about community living in religious .~. orders and congregations, I propose what may seem a curi-ous biblical passage, the one that concludes with "Very well, pay Caesar what belongs to Caesar--and God what belongs to God" (Mr 22:21). We are more accustomed to texts on loving one another or bearing one another's burdens or remaining united and at peace among ourselves or reconciling with one another whenever necessary. All those principles and practices are very important for the life of a healthy community. From this text, however, two :practical norms can be drawn which also are impor-tant for life in community: appropriateness and balance. These two norms are tightly intertwined, like a fine weaving; in fact, both can be drawn from those same words of Jesus: "Pay Caesar what belongs to Caesar--and God what belongs to God." First, appropriateness: We do not give to Caesar what belongs to God or to God what belongs to Caesar. In community we can bring realities into~our life together which are not really appro-priate precisely because they are misplaced: for example, unfair expectations of someone or of one another as a group; unwill-ingness to share or communicate something which by our pro-fession we commit ourselves to share and communicate; personal agendas, with their accompanying attitudes and perspectives, and emotions, which may really belong in ministry or to only one of our relationships or somewhere else altogether. Joel Giallanza CSC writes for us once again from: Congregation of the Holy Cross; Via Framura, 85; 00168 Roma; Italy. November-December 1997 Giallanza ¯ Community--Healthy or Dysfunctional? Serious personal reflection and realistic self-knowledge bring with them the ability to answer this simple question: Where does what I am experiencing--this issue, this feeling, this concern-- belong? Where will it be most appropriately articulated and addressed? Inappropriate placement of issues, feelings, and con-cerns generates an inadequate response. Then all frustrations sur-rounding them will be intensified as they continue to be unaddressed. Second, balance: We give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God at the same time. Of the two points, balance is the more challenging, even on a daily basis. Most of our time and energy as apostolic religious are invested in ministry. This is important, given who we are as religious com-mitted to continue the mission of Jesus in the spirit of our founders and foundresses. Nevertheless, we do need to remind ourselves from time to time that each of us has only one limited pool of time and energy. Too easily we can fall out of balance by expending the maxi-mum of our quality time and energy in ministry--or on some-thing else--and simply neglect community or prayer. While that might never degenerate into complete negligence; we may grad-ually adopt a very minimalist approach to community. Then, from time to time, we may feel shocked that those with whom we live every day have changed or rearranged this or that without our having been consulted. Conveniendy we might forget to ask our-selves if we were sufficiently present, available, and interested when those decisions were being formulated and then imple-mented. Community life can be joyful and it can be painful; at times it can be the greatest of blessings and at times the heaviest of burdens. But never has there been a guarantee, that it would be easy. As long as we are human, working to live closely with other people, appropriateness and balance in approaching our commu-nity life will continue to be significantchallenges. "Pay Caesar what belongs to Caesar--and God what belongs to God." We may not always make that payment perfectly, but we are responsible for making the effort 'to live community with the appropriateness and balance which can facilitate the love and unity we seek. Though other things must also be included, these are principal ingredients that determine the quality of life and health within a community. Review for Religious Quality of Community: Healthy or Dysfunctional? Very little, if anything, about community is theory.It is work to live with one another. But through our commitment it is meant to be a work of the heart. The alternative is that members care lit-tle about one another and about the space in which they live. Gradually each individual b~comes the center of a personal uni-verse which has minimal contact and communication with the other personal universes in the vicinity. Then all the theories about community and loving one another constitute little more than fine words carried on hot air. , Community life, then, can be healthy or dysfunctional. These present thoughts will focus on some characteristics of a healthy community and on some earmarks of a dysfunctional community. The following sets of contrasting characteristics represent spec-trums present in all communities. They are presented here only as a stimulant for further reflection and discussion vis-h-vis the specific experiences and contexts of actual local communities. The health or dysfunction of a community is evident from its location on the spectrum. Determining that location is not a random, arbi-trary exercise; it emerges from the members' individual and com-munal self-knowledge, hgnesty, self-examination, and willingness to adapt. Only then can the members decide what adjustments will facilitate living more effectively as a healthy community. Community or Computer? Communication, sharing and processing information, has a major influence on the health or dysfunction of a community. Healthy choices and decisions are based on sufficient and appro-priate, information and clear communication. This assumes gen-uine listening, not simply hearing. Attentive listening enables us to analyze and respond to. someone's words with understanding and love. , , The alternative is not :merely a failure to listen, though that will be part of it. Much more, the alternative strips the entire interchange--the information sharing and the personal decision making--of any affective, human quality. We may react mechan-ically to what we barely hear, quickly making preliminary and sometimes permanent judgments. As individuals and as a com-munity, we may focus,only on facts, with little regard for how all this decision or this expressed opinion will affect the people involved. Then we are no longer a community, but a computer. November-Decentber 1997 Whether the members are a "community or a computer depends upon how they share and deal with information among themselves, how they communicate with one another. A healthy community remains focused on people; it puts information at the service of people. A dysfunctional community operates much like a computer, focusing on the precision and,.processing 6f infor-mation; it tends to view people as servants of that information. A healthy community strives always to choose and decide wi.th understanding and love. By contrast, a dysfunctional community may be efficient, but is not likely to be person oriented. What needs to be done gets done, but with little regard for the vari-ables of human personality, for people's preferences and per-spect. ives, for the rich nuances that the talents and experience of the individual members could provide. Efficiency may be an important value, but it is no guarantee against dysfunction; only love can prevent that. The quality of communication among community members colors the atmosphere, the climate, the spirit, of their residence, marking it as either a home or a hohsing facility: In turn, that atmosphere affects the quality of relationships among 'the mem-bers and thus the witness,they present to'the world around them through their presence and ministry. Assessing the quality of com-munication within a community is among the mos~t effective and direct means of improving the overall health of that community. Community or Condominium? When the members actively establish and actually engage in their communal lifel the community's ;health benefits d.ireetly. Several elements are involved: first, common call and mission. The healthy commianity understands its call and articulates its mission. This becomes a source ofenergy and provides meaning and direction, with far-reaching implications for every dimension of religious life, from personal and communal lifestyles, to voca-tion promotion, to decisions concerning ministries and the use of financial resources. By contrast, a dysfunctional community drifts without a clear sense of where it is going or how it wants to present itself to the world around it. As a result, irreconcilably wide gaps develop among the lifestyles and philosophies of the various members and local communities and jeopardize the very fibers holding the com-munity together. Efforts to identify and maintain any common Revie~v for Religious call and mission are not a priority among the members of a dys-functional community. A second element of community health is mutual respect. Members have a certain maturity and respect one another's per-sons, possessions, and perspectives. This is not to imply that there will be constant and. consistent agreement; that is not realistic. Respect has more to do with recogniz-ing, accepting, and even honoring the differences among the members than with arriving at some superficial level of agreement. By contrast, a dysfunctional commu-nity has replaced respect with recipe. Its members work hard to redesign one another according to some image or stan-dard' they hold which may have nothing to .do with the ideals put before them by the life and example of the founder, or the constitutions, or the experience and capabilities of the members. Redesigning one another consumes much time and energy that should be directed elsewhere., ~ Third--this expands the preceding point--a healthy community celebrates " the 'members' giftedness. Rejoicing in one~ another's gifts is a concrete expression of respect. This assumes that we have made the effort to know one another's gifts; further, this effort involves sharing and communicating with one another. The challenge here is to go beyond knowledge toward: affirmation and even promotion of one another's gifts. This is possible only if we are secure and comfortable with ourselves, with our own individual gifts and goodness. By contrast, the members of a dysfunctional community tear down one another, not so much through specific hatred or dislike, but because of personal insecurity, being uncomfortable with one~ self. Jealousy and envy emerge from .low self-esteem and superfi-cial self-knowledge. If we feel and come to believe that Our gifts or talents are insufficient and inadequate, we may be tempted to build up ourselves by tearing down others. This may be quite subtle: a roll of the eyes, .a nod of the head, a sigh that commu-nicates "There he/she goes again!" In time the only comfort zone The quality o.f communication among community members colors the atmosphere, the climate, the spirit, of their residence, marking,it as either a home or a housing facility. Nov~nber-December 1997 Giallanza ." Communi~--Healtb~ or D~Cunctional? we may experience is when we maintain our distance from one another. We are polite, but politic: never disturbing or unsettling one another, but also never challenging and ultimately, never really knowing and loving one another. Fourth, a healthy community does, of course, provide and allow space--physical, psychological, and spiritual--for the mem-bers, as individuals and as a community, to be alone and silent, to pray, think, reflect, and relate to God. Maintaining and respect-ing such space requires a level of maturity and comfort that does not equate community with constant togetherness nor reduce it to comfortable superficiality. By contrast, a dysfunctional community sacrifices environ-ment and atmosphere to organization and structure. Though everyone has space, the community does not seem to be alive. There is no sense of an appropriate ambiance, a balance between the private and public forums of the members. Privacy tends to degenerate into secrecy, and public times together become safely and securely sociable. Shared prayer and significant interaction among the members are minimized or routinized to assure the completion of requirements without the responsibilities of com-mitment. Fifth, a certain spirit characterizes a healthy community. The atmosphere, the spirit, of a healthy community encourages the members to feel at home with one another, with the physical space, and with the rhythm of life. This spirit speaks more loudly to prospective members and occasional guests than any other aspect of the community's life. If our guests do not perceive that we .feel at home in this space and with this rhythm of life, then they are not likely to feel at home either. The questions confronting us are direct: Do we feel at home here? Is this an atmosphere which encourages~us to contribute, to be open, to trust? If not, why?- By contrast, a dysfunctional community has a climate from which members try to escape in one way or another. This is most clearly observable when the balance between presence and absence collapses. Personal activities of the demands of ministry are allowed to expand and overflow so that it becomes difficult if not impossible to be present for the community meetings, common meals and prayer, and other gatherings and celebrations as well. Away from the community, members feel more alive, and they feel a heaviness when it is time to return. They find it emotion-ally and spiritually draining to live in this community setting. Review for Religious Sixth, efforts to preserve unity indicate a healthy community. Recognizing the work and the sacrifice involved, the members enter willingly into one another's lives through appropriate self-revelation and compassionate listening. And they willingly make the time for that work and sacrifice. By contrast, a dysfunctional community no longer invests time and energy in the quality of its life. Its members may be quite civil and sociable, but they do not form significant affec-tive and spiritual bonds with one another. Their residing together is merely a coin-cidence of time and space rather than a reflection of a deeper commitment to one another. Given the importance of these six characteristics of a healthy community, when dysfunctional cl~aracteristics are dominant, we no longer have a commu-nity but a condominium. Everything appears to be in order, well organized, running smoothly, and comfortably .appointed--but the place is merely a habi-tation, not a home. Everyone is self-con-tained. People pass one another and exchange all the acceptable courtesies and If our guests do not perceive that we feel at home in this space and with this rhythm of life, then they are not likely to feel atohome either. appropriate pleasantries, but maneuver away from any deeper sharing. Obviously, a dysfunctional community can neither attract nor nurture healthy vocations. Those who desire to live in this way could easily find what they want in a well-managed and efficiendy operated condominium. Community or Cold Storage? Life in community necessitates some personal and communal qualities. Though any list is somewhat arbitrary, I would suggest that members of any healthy communit~ have some basic quali-fies that facilitate and sustain their relationships with one another. In their personal qualities, the individual members of a healthy community will have a rich diversity. These qualities, moreover, will vary from community to community. They will, however, include mutual affection and affirmation, willingness to apolo-gize and to forgive, fostering friendships, generosity, compassion, and joy. All these and others communicate a distinctively posi- Novetnber-Dece'mber 1997 Giallanza ¯ Community--Healthy or Dysfunctional? tive response to two simple questions: Am I / Are we happy in this way of life? Would others perceive that we are happy and enthusiastic as they observe our everyday life? This is not to deny the human reality of the striving of us all, with various ups and downs in community life, prayer, ministry, the vowed life, and personal relationships. Admittedly, these qualities may not always be fully evident in us, but it ig essential that we have a commitment and a willingness to make constant efforts to develop them. By contrast, a dysfunctional community seems only to exist, to survive. It does not give the impression of flourishing with all the warmth and beauty of human relationships. It appears to be merely a group of people occupying the same space together, but never encountering one another on a deeper level that calls them to life. A dysfunctional community does not and cannot commu-nicate that the members are truly happy to be living and carrying out their everyday tasks and responsibilities. Communal qualities do not differ significantly from the per-sonal qualities necessary for healthy community. In fact, they reflect the interaction of those personal qualities among the mem-bers. The health of that interaction is especially evident when community members genuinely enjoy one another's company and are generously hospitable to others. They plan for time together on a regular basis, and they safeguard that time as a priority. VChat they do during that time together is not as important as their tak-ing the time to be present and attentive to one another. That attentiveness will overflow so tha.t guests feel welcome to activi-ties of the members' common life. By contrast, the members of a dysfunctional community find time together to be a chore, and so they reduce it to a minimum, either by unchallenged design or through the deterioration of relationships. It would not be uncommon to find much loneli, ness in these situations, loneliness that is compensated for by hav-ing all or most of one's primary friendships outside the local community. In a healthy context, loneliness can teach us and chal-lenge us to deepen .our relationship with the Lord and sharpen our compassion for and sensitivity to the loneliness of others. In a dysfunctional community, however, loneliness takes a very dif-ferent direction: it tends to breed discouragement and depres-sion which lead to compensatory behaviors. Vv'hen a group gives little or no evidence of these personal and communal qualities, they have cold storage, not community. Review for Religious They live together, but only as if in suspended animation, with-out those human qualities and interactions that bring life and happiness and growth to a community. Even if the members of a local community are not aware of this and do not acknowledge it, their guests will see it, and, most certainly, so will those who are considering a vocation to their way of life. Given the realities, of society,today, many of those considering a vocation to religious life come from environments that have little human warmth, little sense of family. It is. unlikely--if they truly want to live in a healthy way--that they would commit themselves to a life of cold storage in a dysfunctional community. Community or Committee? Community is a straightforward reality. If we do not take the time and energy to create it, if we do not take responsibility for it and take initiatives for it, then it will not really exist. Community is never the result of spontaneous generation, nor does it work by automation. The mem-bers of a healthy community do not abdi-cate their right and duty to make, maintain, and monitor the quality of their common life. They accept the idea that reflection together, sharing, and bonded-ness are key elements in the health of community life. By contrast, a dysfunctional commu-nity seems to drift as the members wait for someone to do something, to take responsibility for moving the community forward. On occasion, some issue or sit-uation becomes a crisis before the members mobilize enough to respond reasonably. For instance, the demands o.f ministry may have been allowed to control the scheduling of regular times together for reflection and sharing, or some members' manipu-lative behaviors may have been left unchallenged for so long that the community now manifests a growing collective passivity. The challenge here is to decide if people's lives together will be a community or a committee. "Committe~" here means a tem-porary group formed for a particular purpose. Its members address an issue or perform a task and then they disperse. Maintaining relationships is not a committee's function; in fact, that could Community is never the result of spontaneous generation, nor does it work by automation. Noventber-Dece~nber'1997 Giallanza ¯ Community--Healthy or Dysfunctional? hinder its efficiency and effectiveness. In the case of a community, however, failure to maintain relationships compromises its capac-ity for being a prophetic presence and witness in and for our world. Community or Convenience? There is a genuine asceticism involved in building and sus-taining a healthy community life. This asceticism has some com-ponents. First, the qualities of love and unity in a community must be personal and individual before they can exist commu-nally. If as individuals we take personal responsibility to foster these qualities by helpful activity, then the group we belong to will do so too. In a dysfunctional community there is a wide gap between talk about responsibility and the reality of what is actually done. Everyone may say "we" do such-and-such, but, in reality, only a few take any initiative or action in response to the situation or issue at hand. Second, within a healthy community, care and concern are given generously and appropriately. Generously, because they are directed to each individual within the community. Appropriately, because they are adapted to the particular situations, personalities, and needs of the individual members. The sensitivity and aware-ness at work here are mutual, respectful, and inclusive. Third, individual, active participation is essential to healthy community life. If individuals do not participate in community meetings or contribute to common decisions, they get in the way of healthy community life. Really, there is not much middle ground in this regard. Silence and passivity are not automatically harmless to the quality of community life, Members of a dysfunctional community are passive partici-pants. Every dimension of their consecrated life--prayer, daily interactions, conversation at meals, attentiveness to guests-- reflects a general lack of energy and interest. The members put their energy and interest outside the community. Two means for facilitating this asceticism are personal accountability and effective conflict resolution. Calling one another to accountability is never easy to do, but it does mark the care and concern, the participation and love, of a healthy community. In a dysfunctional community, life together is lived at Review for Religious the lowest common denominator. Community members do not challenge one another, either because of fear or because no one wants to be challenged. Then the whole community will be only as strong as the weakest member; it will make progress only at the pace of the slowest one. Effective conflict resolution is indispensable. A community with absolutely no conflict is not perfect, it is dead!_How con-flict is dealt with in community can weave the members together into a magnificent tapestry of healing and love, or it can tear them into so many scattered pieces of cloth with no common threads. Often a small event or issue, left unaddressed, becomes infected over time, changing a community from health to dys-function, from bondedness to brokenness. If we are unwilling to practice the components of this asceti-cism and use the means that help us do so, we are no longer speak-ing of community, but of convenience. The dysfunctional community protects and promotes and projects a life of conve-nience. Therefore, whatever is inconvenient--whether it is related to prayer or practicalities of living together or personal relation-ships-- never reaches the level of consideration as a community priority. Convenience can assure that no one is upset, but it also guarantees that people will grow in only minimal ways. The Choice before Us The quality of our community is not a onetime choice; we must choose to live in love with one another day in, day out. If we do not make that choice daily and affirm it by our actions daily, we begin to live something else. Eventually our life together becomes ~omething else: a computer, a condominium, cold stor-age, a committee, or a convenience. We become something, but not community. We give witness to something, but not to unity and love. The choice is ours. We know well the words of Deuteronomy 30:19 calling us to "choose life." Sirach, too, .expresses bluntly the choice before us: If you choose, you can keep the commandments, and to act faithfully is a matter of your own choice. God has placed before you fire and water: stretch out your hand for whichever you choose. Before you are life and death, and whichever you choose will be given to you. (15:15-17) November-December 1997 Giallanza ¯ Community--Healthy or Dysfunctional? Three questions can assist us in reflecting on our individual and communal response to that life-or-death choice which is ever before us. First, what brings us together? VChy are we here? Is it our faith in Jesus and our desire to live that faith through this religious community and its mission? Or is this life simply a way to do a ministry--teaching or nursing or social service or pas-toral work or whatever? Admittedly, our faith in Jesus and the work we do are not mutually exclusive; but the question here con-cerns the foundation of our life's identity and meaning. Second, what keeps us together? Is it our love for one another and our efforts to support one another in living the way of love? Or is it that we have no alternatives and have become comfort-able? Or are we afraid to consider any alternatives? Having no alternatives and being unwilling to consider other options are not good indications that we have made a healthy and mature choice of what we are doing. Third, what flows from our being together? Is it the prophetic witness of our faith in Jesus and our love for one another? Or is it: our accomplishments? The compliment paid to the early Christians was "See how they love one another!" not "See how much they get done!!~ Healthy community is built and sustained by faith and love and witness. Dysfunctional community is concerned only with the work to be done, the status quo, and the results of what is done. Only a healthy community can project Christian life and human warmth and prophetic witness. These thoughts will close with the Gospel te~t which opened them: "Very well, pay Caesar what belongs to Caesar--and God what belongs to God" (Mt 22:21). Because he is referring to a Roman coin, Jesus speaks in terms of payment. His words remind us that healthy community costs something--we will have to pay. A healthy community costs each of us individually because we must constantly give of ourselves,° thus making our commitment to one another real in our attitudes and our actions. COmmunity costs us collectively because we must commit ourselves to make our life together a witness of love and peace and unity. Together we must call one another to this commitment. Dysfunctional com-munity is free of charge. Healthy community costs something. Individually and collectively, we must determine our willingness to make the necessary payment. Review for Religious EAGAN HUNTER The Elderly among Us Tue, we always have had elderly religious among us. But ~ two factors have changed the emphasis. First~ everyone is living longer, in the secular world and in the religious life as well. In 1900 only four percent of the total general population was over the age of 65--one in every twenty-five. By the year 2000 it is projected that as much as thirteen percent of the total :general population will be over 65. Life expectancy has been extended. It is projected that those arriving at age 65 today can expect to live approximately 16.3 years beyond that age. Second, the median age of religious communities is getting older, changing the dimen-sions of the concern. These two factors have made aging in reli-gious communities a more visible, more widely known concern. The problems faced by elderly religious are not necessarily a matter of increasingly poor health. Even though more vulnerable to ill health than in their earlier years, many continue to live healthy lives into very advanced years and some almost until death. Growing old is physiologically and psychologically inevitable, but these changes vary from individual to individual, with no pre-dictable'pattern emerging. Physiologically, advancing years bring problems of lessened mobility, gradual diminishment of the senses (especially sight and hearing), weakened ability to think and remember, Increasingly, heart problems and strokes occur, bones weaken, and arthritic and other impairments increase. Most older religious seem able to adjust more rapidly to various changes in their physiological world than in their psychological one. Eagan Hunter CSC is professor of education at St. Edward's University; 3001 South Congress Avenue; Austin, Texas 78704. Novonber-Deconber 1997 Hunter ¯ The Elderl~ amon~ Us Many times the decline of physical powers causes a brother or sister to remain somewhat isolated within his or her religious house, out of the "mainstream" and interacting less frequently with others. In the religious life we have been taught that one of the major facets of our existence is our contribution to the ministry and apostolate. Our religious formation tends to make us become self-sufficient. When the necessity asserts itself of cutting back on former activities once managed quite easily, older religious may experience feelings of depression, of uselessness. They may feel themselves a burden to others and no longer able to do their fair share. They seek ways and means through which to make some form of contribution to the common life and to the ministry. Sometimes there is a tendency for younger people to assume tasks which the elderly could do if provided sufficient extra time. In the interest of efficiency and effectiveness, we may become impatient and take the tasks out of their hands. Thus for the elderly the depressing feeling of 'not being able to contribute their part becomes magnified. Younger religious must seek ways to continue incorporating the elderly into the community's daily activities. The contemplation of retirement involves a psychological state, a sense of psychological withdrawal from the demands of one's ministry or occupation and the entry into a totally new ori-entation towards oneself and one's work. The taking of this step in our work-oriented society indeed is a milestone event and a very sensitive process. It marks a turning point in one's adult life, a shift from the middle years to old age. The extent to which retirement is viewed as a positive life transition depends much upon the attitudes of the individual. Some have more difficulty adjusting to retirement than others. Some are reluctant to retire, for their work seems to give their lives structure and meaning which is seen as becoming void in the future. What decisions need to be made when facing this stage of one's lifespan? What choices are available to the individual? Such a transitional adjustment incorporates a process of con-templation and evaluation of life's meaning and purpose, one's vocational call to service. It involves integrating the many expe-riences, meanings, and facts of one's life. It brings into focus one of the most incomprehensible concepts of all--one's own human. mortality. Such an adjustment involves acceptance of one's life with dignity and without too much regret for things not done, roads not followed. This reorientation phase of adjUstment should Review for Religious involve exploring new avenues and ways of being involved. The elderly who are well educated and who have enjoyed their work life will desire to continue some type of positive experiences related to that former occupation, but with lessened participa-tion and responsibilities. I had a great-aunt who was a nun. For some sixty years she was a successful teacher and administrator. With the limitations of advancing old age and the resultant physical losses, it became necessary for her to surrender one by one those things which she loved doing and did well. I can remember visiting her in their infirmary before her death. While we were talk-ing, a younger nursing nun entered the room with a tray containing a stack of small plastic cups used to give medication and a small bowl of soapy water. My aunt had insisted that she still could make a contribution, and this was her way. As we talked, she carefully and slowly washed and dried each cup. A contented smile of pleasure filled her face when the nursing nun returned an hour later to pick up the tray and complimented my great-aunt on the help she was to them. Even this litde bit meant much to my elderly aunt. She still was a con-tributing member of her religious community in her own little way. In my own religious community, we have a brother who cel-ebrated his hundredth birthday in 1996. For many years he was an active teacher, administrator, religious superior. In addition to the task assigned him through his ministry, he reached out in other ways to those around him. Before entering the religious life, he had been a member of the Souza band. It was this gift of music he shared with others over the years of his religious life through playing in various civic musical groups and symphonies. After a major stroke, one of his primary goals was to rehabilitate his muscular coordination to the degree that once again he could make joyful sounds to the Lord on his cello. Prayer, music, and his community became the center of his retirement. He continues to have many gifts to share with others, and share he does. Many of us feel the limitations that the ac6ve demands of our ministry place on our personal time. We sometimes feel there is not sufficient time to pray. But, for many of our retired religious, Younger religious must seek ways to continue incorporating the elderly into the community's daily activities. November-Decentber 1997 Hunter ¯ The Elderly among Us time is what they have most of--so we must plug into this spiri-tual "powerhouse." We must stress to the elderly religious that their contribution is to storm heaven in behalf of the concerns and problems being encountered by those in the active ministry. They can pray and are happy to assume this role of petitioner. Seen in the proper perspective, the lives of our older reli-gious need not be brooding or unhappy. We must give them our support and understanding, realizing the emotional tensions, phys-ical trauma, and disease which have become so much a part of their lives. We must remember that these are the community's elderly of today, and that the elderly of tomorrow will be us! How would we want to be treated? Younger religious must be careful not to participate in a form of age stratification within our religious communities. Such strat-ifying may be seen in the general society, with people being divided into classes and castes of various sorts. In such a society it becomes the norm administered to qualify or disqualify indi-viduals for desired roles and positions. Age is a significant variable in such social stratifications and becomes an operative factor in the qualification or disqualification process. Many of our elderly once held leadership roles in commu-nity undertakings. Through age discrimination such religious may feel that their expertise and experiences are no longer sought, that their role in community has been terminated. We must real-ize the symbolic value of their witness roles. It is their footprints that led our various religious communities to the roles we fill today. The elderly hold a vital position in the continuity of our religious life. Vatican Council II speaks, of the heritage of our various religious orders and congregations. We are asked to turn~ to the sources of Christian life, to the inspirations, conceptions, traditions, and ideals of our founders, as well as to those who fol- ¯ lowed later in our histories. We are asked to restore these to our religious life through modifications that meet contemporary reli-gious and social needs. The elderly among us are those who helped mold our particular institute into what it represents today. They,:are our living heritage, our legacy. Thus we must continue to reach out in order to -benefit from their years of knowledge and understanding of our particular mode of living the religious~ life. Their guidance and insights form a treasure which we cannot afford to ignore or'discredit. The elderly religious among us have seen their family mem- Review for Religious bers as well as their religious associates die. More and more of their generation is disappearing. Feeling the loss of these loved ones, they come face-to-face with their own mortality. The pos-sibility of one's own death becomes a factor of life. When young, we tend to believe we are indestructible--death is something asso-ciated with old age, and we are young. Time passes and the pos-sibility of one's death becomes a reality. Our religious beliefs provide us with a solid and positive creed. The Vatican Council stresses that we have been created by God and that, through the passion and death of Jesus, the terrors of bodily death have been conquered. If we live this life fully, we will be restored to whole-ness and a sharing in .the divine life which lies beyond all corruption. "Hence to every thoughtful man a solidly established faith provides the answer to his anxiety about what the future holds for him. At the same time faith gives him the power to be united in Christ with his loved ones who have already been snatched away by death. Faith arouses the hope that they have found true life with God" (Gaudium et spes, § 18). The resultant insights make it easier to develop one's own coping mechanisms for dealing with the future. Yet death remains a mystery. Our goal should be to assist the elderly to reflect upon their life's achievements done in the name of our Lord and to reflect upon the truths of Christianity related to the meaning of life and death. As Erikson points out, the last stage of the human life cycle encompasses old age and the retirement from the pro-ductive years of life. He sees this last stage as ego integrity.versus disgust and despair. The positive outcome of this last stage is an acceptance of one's self and one's life without bitterness or regret. It is a coming to terms with i:he approaching finality of one's life. It incorporates the avoidance of the negative feelings that one's life has been wasted, the avoidance of discontentment about one's limited accomplishments, the "road not taken," the task not done. Upon going blind, Milton feared that God would chide him for wasting talents and gifts that were now lying useless in him. An inner struggle went on until Milton reached the conclusion that, rather than rejecting the role given him by God, he simply needed to accept it. He phrased this acceptance exceedingly well The elderly among us are those who helped mold our particular institute into what it represents today. November-December 1997 Hunter ¯ The Elderly among Us when he said, "They also serve who only stand and wait." This quiet acceptance is difficult, for most people are action oriented. In the declining years of our lives, God is not asking anything heroic. Rather, he is asking for the quiet acceptance of one's infir-mities, one's physical disabilities and limitations, one's sufferings and pains. St. Paul expresses this acceptance when he says, "I find my joy in the suffering I endure for you. In my own flesh I fill up what is lacking in the sufferings of Christ for the sake of his body, the church" (Col 1:24). This submission and acceptance can be raised as one's gift to heaven. This is a task we all can do. These elderly religious have preceded us in the labors of our ministries. The burdens ~they carried frequendy were heavy. They did not trudge; they strode onward, for they were people of faith and hope. Approaching the end of their individual journeys, they need our support, our understanding, and our willingness to assist. This we must be willing to give them in their time of need. Simply this is all they are asking of us. To Mary, Journeying (A Visitation Song) "For all your ways~ are beautiful . " Be with us in the morning as with joyful hearts we travel tq carry Christ within us in silence and in song. Be with us as we labor on the hills and in the valleys with your care and with your mercy to all within our world. And when evening shadows lengthen, be our strength as still we journey to our God whose arms await us in the darkness of your peace. Louise Finn CND Review for Religious THOMAS MICHEL I Interreligious Dialogue and the Jesuit Mission "All good theology is autobiography" is a phrase often repeated today. If theology is a reflection on our faith and its implications, then the personal history of how God has acted and is acting in the life of each of us is the starting point for theological understanding. Moreover, as Jesuits, it has been a part of our communitarian spirituality from the beginning to "share our desires," that is, to speak with each other about the great things we want to do for the Lord. From this starting point I would like to share the spiritual desire that has dominated my relationship with God in prayer and work for the past quarter century. It is the desire for greater understanding and love between Christians and Muslims and my desire to make a contri-bution to that end. being missioned Transformation through Dialogue As a Jesuit and a priest,I am today a product of inter-religious dialogue. The way I live my Jesuit vocation is the result of twenty-five years of sharing life with Muslims, discovering the spiritual riches they possess, learning from them, being challenged by them, and at the same time Thomas Michel SJ, secretary of the Vatican Secretariat for Interreligious Dialogue, originally presented this article as a talk to young Jesuits in both Manila and Rome. He may be addressed at Curia Generalizia; Compagnia di Ges~a; C.P. 6139; 00195 Roma PRATI; Italy. ¯ November-December 1997 Micbd ¯ Interreligious Dialogue and the ~esuit Mission having occasion both to bear witness to my faith in what God has achieved for all people in the person of Jesus Christ and to explain to them my understanding of what it means to be a disciple of Christ. In more recent years my apostolate has taken me beyond encounter with Muslims and more and more into dialogue with Jews, Hindus, Buddhists, Taoists, and the followers of indigenous religions. When I reflect on what has been going on in my life, I see God forming me and transforming me by his grace, over and over, into a person different frbm what I "alas at the beginning of my interreligious journey. I am conscious that, when I teach courses on Islam or when I speak about Muslims, what I say and how I say it are different from the words of someone who has not had my experience of coming to know the Muslim community from the inside. When someone says something tha( pu~ts down or denigrates Islam unfairly, I ~nd myself reacting spontaneously and even emotionally, because they are talking about people that I know, people who have welcomed me into their lives, people whom I love and who have shown love to me. When Muslims are insulted, I feel insulted; when they are wronged, I feel wronged; when they undergo a tragedy, I suffer with them. When something good happens to them, I rejoice with them. When Muslims do wrong, to themselves or to others, I feel ashamed and beg God's forgiveness. When real dialogue occurs, no partner is left unchanged. When I see how much God has enriched my life and deepened my faith through my being in dialogue with others, it is a great source of hope and encouragement to me. For the same Holy Spirit who has been active in my own life is also at work in the lives of my friends of other faiths, using our encounters to touch them too and transform their lives. Most of the time we do not see evidence of this. We work in hope, which is, after all, trusting that God is invisibly active in this world. But God knows that we need encouragement from time to time and gives us "feedback" to keep our hopes alive. About four years ago I received such a .response from Said Khorramshahri, a pious Iranian Qur'an reciter. I had gone to Tehran to represent the Vatican at a national function and was staying about two weeks. Said, a graduate student in English, was assigned to interpret for me at the meetings and conferences that made up my schedule. Review for Religious During this time Said and I had many opportunities to talk about all sorts of things: life in Iran and in Rome, sports, politics, music, our own personal hopes and desires~ and, of course, what is deepest in our lives--our faiths. We shared deeply and hon-estly, and I could often feel the presence of the Lord when we were in conversation. When I returned to Rome, he wrote me a long letter saying that he never imagined that God would use his encounter with a Catholic priest as the instrument by which to pro-foundly change and deepen his outlook on life, faith, and his relations with others. I real-ized that I was not the only one who recog-nized that God was present and active in our encounters. This pious Muslim also saw that God was with us and that "our hearts were burning within us" from the movement of God's grace: I offer this experience merely as an exam-ple. Every Jesuit--every Christian--who has been involved in interreligious dialogue to any extent can tell comparable stories. If my experience has been mostly with Muslims, others could testify to some strikingly similar" experiences of God's activity gathered over the course of their years in dialogue with Buddhists or Hindus, Jews or Baha'is, or followers of the tradi-tional religions of Africans or Native Americans. The point is that, when we truly open ourselves to God in dialogue with another, the Holy Spirit takes over and guides the encounter. As the document "Our Mission and Interreligious Dialogue" puts it, "Open and sincere interreligious dialogue is our cooperation with God's ongoing dialogue with humanity (OMID §5). When we truly open ourselves to God in dialogue with another, the Holy Spirit takes over and guides the encounter. The Need for a Document The document of th~ 34th General Congregation "Our Mission and Interreligious Dialogue" is remarkable. For the first time in Jesuit history, the Society as a whole explored the inter-religious dimension of our Jesuit mission. Certainly, there were always some Jesuits who were involved in various forms of inter-religious dialogue. For a few it was their main apostolate, but for most it was something in which they were involved when they Novetnber-Dece~nber 1997 Michel ¯ Interreligious Dialogue and the ~esuit Mission had extra time, an apostolate they added on to their main duties. Dialogue was often considered a kind of luxury in the Society, of secondary importance to works such as schools, seminary and theological education, parishes. It frequently happened that stu-dents who were interested in carrying out studies on other reli-gions were assigned to other, "more important" fields of study like Scripture, theology, and philosophy. Most of us .involved in dialogue have had the experience of hearing a fellow Jesuit tell us we were wasting our time. "Why do you bother with Muslims?" I have been asked; "you will never convert them." Some comments have seemed to presume that interreligious dialogue and proclamation of the gospel are incom-patible activities, or that dialogue somehow undermined or com-promised the church's mission of evangelization. These questions show that the goal of dialogue was not well understood. It was confused with a type of soft sell, a way to insinuate ourselves into another religious community in order to make converts, or it was seen as a lack of commitment to bear witness to our Christian faith. Dialogue and PrOclamation One of the first issues that the general congregation had to take up was the way int.erreligious dialogue is related to the work of evangelization. It is in this context that the goal of dialogue can be understood. In the one evangelizing mission that Christ gave to his disciples, dialogue and proclamation of the gospel are two distinct aspects. Neither can replace the other. "They should not be confused, manipulated, or regarded as identical, as though they were interchangeable" (OMID, §7). Just as dialogue is not meant to replace proclamation of the gospel, so the duty to pro-claim the gospel must never preempt or negate the work of engag-ing in dialogue. The document describes dialogue as "a new way of being church," in which we discover the "deeper dimensions of our Christian faith and wide~ horizons of God's salvific presence in the world" and engage in activity that "grasps the deeper truth and meaning of the mystery of Christ in relation to the universal his-tory of God's self-revelation" (OMID, §7). What this dense the-ological statement means is that God is at work in the lives of all those who sincerely seek him and that sometimes God's grace Review for Religious produces anyplace in the world people of great holiness, gen-erosity, and love. God carries out this saving work among people of other faiths through the Holy Spirit, who makes use of the religious tradi-tions that people follow to lead them farther and farther along the path of true holiness. Sometimes a person's knowledge of God's saving work in Jesu's Christ precedes: the person is bap-tized and receives the fullness of the Holy Spirit. More often the Holy Spirit precedes people's knowledge of Christ. There is no contradiction here: it is the One God who is at work, whether in Christ'or in the Spirit. Quoting the bishops of Asia, the GC34 document says: "It is the same Spirit, who has been active in the incarnation, life, death, and resurrection of Jesus and in the church, who was active amongst all peoples before the incarnation and is active amongst the nations, religions, and peoples today." We see, then, that the deepest motivation for dialogue is to recognize the Spirit of God wherever the Spirit is at work in the world today and to praise God for the generous action of the Spirit. When we meet Muslims, Buddhists, Sikhs, and others who bear the fruits of the Holy Spirit in their lives, our reaction should be to praise and thank God. Time spent with sincere believers of other faiths is time spent in discovery of the many and varied fruitsalove, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, gentleness, faithfulness, self-control--~at the Spirit continues to produce in the lives of other believers. Four Types of Dialogue and Their Goals "Interreligious dialogue," as the document points out, is not one thing, and the document outlines four basic types of dialogue. The goal of each type is not exactly the same. The dialogue of life is a dialogue on the plane of being, and the goal i~ living together in peace, mutually enriching each other by bearing witness to the values we stand for. The dialogue of action is on the plane of doing--working together to oppose whatever enslaves and degrades people, defending the weak, accompanying the poor in their struggle for justice. Its goal is to build together societies formed in accord with the will of God and in reverence for human dignity. An example of the dialogue of religious experience is what was going on during my time with Said in Iran. The goal is for those November-December 1997 Michel ¯ Interreligious Dialogue and the ~esuit Mission in such dialogue to open themselves fully .to God's movements (God's personal history in the life of each person) so that the Spirit can use them to touch and transform the persons. The dialogue of theological'exchange is to .clarify points of con-vergence and divergence, to overcome misunderstandings, half-truths, and distortions, and to come to a greater appreciation of each other's spiritual values (OMID, §4). It is not meant to arrive at a common formulation, to gloss over the differences between religions, or to find a common denominator on which we can all agree. The irreconcilable differences that we discover should nei-ther surprise nor discourage us, since we acknowledge from the start that each religion, is unique and offers its particular com-plex of doctrines and way of life. Dialogue in Patience and Hope If dialogue is about love (OMID, §6), then it is by examining the qualities of love that we learn the attitudes that must accom-pany our efforts at dialogue. In his great hymn on love in the First Letter to the Corinthians, St. Paul lists some of the qualities of love. It is. significant that the first quality on Paul's list is patience: "Love is patient, kind . oIt is important to spend time reflecting on the quality of patience, because lack of patience, in my opinion, is one of .the great causes of failure in dialogue. Patience includes more than not looking for quick results. I would rather say, "Do not look for results at all." In the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna tells Arjuna, "Do your duty conscientiously, and do not be concerned about suc-cess or failure?' We might paraphrase this advice by saying that the document "Our Mission and Interreligious Dialogue~' challenges Jesuits to "throw yourselves into this activity, without counting the cost or trying to measure the results." We engage in dialogue because it is our duty as disciples of Christ. As the OMID document puts it, dialogue is an integral element of our Jesuit mission in the world. We are people of hope, .one of the three greatest gifts that God has given us. We work in the hope that God will use our efforts in a way pleasing to God to advance the comingof God's reign in the world. Sometimes we hear people say, "What have you accomplished after all these years of dialogue? There are still religious tensions, ,conflicts, and wars." Review for Religious ~ The same could be said of other aspects of our mission. Those working for justice know that--despite years and years of tireless effort, sacrifices, even martyrdoms, despite vast amounts of time and energy spent--we are still confronted with countless forms of -injustice, oppression, and exploitation in the world. Recent years have even produced new forms. The occasional victories seem few in comparison with the rampant injustices still existing in almost every society. Does this mean that all those efforts at building more just societies have been in vain? No, we recognize ~that we have to keep on struggling in every age, culture, and nation to oppose injustice and defend the oppressed and marginalized. , It-is a similar case with interreligious dia-logue. At the same time that relations between the followers of various religions become better in one place, new conflicts and tensions break out elsewhere. Regions that have had long tra-ditions of people living together in peace sud-denly find themselves enmeshed in religious wars. On the other hand, reconciliation does occur where there has been conflict. People do learn to forgive and move beyond the past. Some peo-ples do find, often through much painful searching and with many setbacks, ways to live together with their neighbors of other faiths. We have all inherited two attitudes that make the effort at dialogue more difficult: One is the modern business ethic of quick and concrete results. In business, people feel they do not have time to wait. If they do not get the job done and done fast, a com-petitor will get an edge on them. People have graphs and tables .and prbjections to show how soon they can expect results. If they fail to achieve them in the time allotted, they go back to the draw-ing board to revise their policies. But it does not work that way with human relations. Things take time, and our efforts may be building a basis of fellowship whose benefits can be seen only in the future. The second attitude that makes dialogue difficult is an attitude of historical optimism that has dominated the philosophy of his-tory in this century. In this view, humankind, through education and technology, is continually evolving towards greater maturity, openness, and well-being. Obscurantism, ignorance, and violence are characteristics of primitive society and bound to be super- We engage in dialogue because it is ourduty as disciples of Christ. November-December 1997 Michel ¯ Interreli~ous Dialogue and the Jesuit Mission seded. In interreligious terms, many Catholics saw the period of the Second Vatican Council as a time when the old religious con-flicts would become a thing of the past. Dialogue would be the instrument of an inevitable result, putting an end to the misun-derstandings and divisions that kept us apart. Patience and Dialogue It seems to me that, if we Jesuits are going to make a contri-bution towards greater interreligious harmony, we must have a more realistic attitude. Dialogue will not solve all the religious conflicts in the world, just as our struggle for justice will never put an end to all forms of injustice and oppression. Rather, dialogue is something that must be carried on in every, society, in every age. Understanding and respect must be built anew in every gen-eration. The challenge will never come to an end, because sin is a part of who we are as humans and, where there is sin, there will be suspicion, hatred, and conflict. The need for patience is not only seen at the macro level of societies and nations. It is also the case in our personal dealings with people of other religions. We are all so full of suspicions, fears, and preconceptions. It takes much rime to get beyond these, to break down the natural resistance that we all bring to dialogue. If people seem unwilling, indifferent, or even hostile to invita-tions to dialogue, we should not be surprised. The burden of his-tory that we all bear is an obstacle that cannot be overcome quickly. We should also not be surprised if dialogue encounters seem superficial or seem to be characterized by an insincere politeness. This indicates that a level of trust at which we can relate hon-estly and deeply has not yet been built. That too takes time and much patient effort. We human beings are not willing to share what is deepest in our lives with people whom we are not yet ready to trust. Until we are convinced that the others will .treat our sharing with due respect, we tend to keep things at a nonthreat-ening, surface level. Only through the slow and laborious pro-cess of forming friendships and building trust do we arrive at the point where people can break through their latent distrust to begin to share frankly and honestly. But, if we Christians are motivated by Christ's love, we will find the determination and perseverance we need, for; as St.Paul says, "Love is always ready to excuse, to trust, to hope, and to endure whatever comes.?' Review for Religious I mention these negative factors, the effects of sin, because interreligious dialogue, although an exciting adventure of dis-covery of the manifold ways in which God lavishes his grace upon humankind, is also a path on which we encounter obstacles, set-backs, and frustrations and painful forms of self-discovery as well. When we are rebuffed, it is not easy to forgive. When we are misunderstood, it is not easy to go back again and again. When confronted with our own limitations and those of our commu-nity, we are tempted to give it all up and retreat to easier ways of life. However, as Jesuits we have a source of strength that we did not have even four years ago. We have the commitment of our whole Society--of our friends in the Lordmto engage in this aspect of our mission. We are helped to do so by our Ignatian vision that comes from our personal relationship to Jesus Christ. We are urged by the 34th General Congregation to develop a "culture 'of dialogue in our approach to believers of other reli-gions that should become a distinctive characteristic of our Society, sent into the whole world to labor for the greater glory of God and the help of human persons" (OMID, § 17), ' What a tremendous ideal to live for! What a challenge we have set for ourselves! ~Ours is the .generation, living immediately after and formed by General Congregation 34, that can make its document "Our Mission and Interreligious Dialogue" a vibrant part of our Jesuit mission in the world. Many foreign missionaries depend upon,people like you who donate subscriptions for them to Review for Religious. To start a subscription for a deserving missionary, please send $24 to: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Blvd. ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108 To pay by credit card, phone: 314-977-7363. November-December 1997 ANNETTE M. PELLETIER Misery Meets Mystery in Montenegro: A Survival Guide for North American Religious oes consecrated life possess the latent power to continue evangelizing North American culture? Current literature on the topic suggests that the "holy experiment" of founding a culture on evangelical values has turned ominously unholy. The pioneer barks that brought (he Pilgrims, Quakers, and Shakers are saidto be aimlessly adrift, having lost their orientation to the Holy. On the other hand, the heritage of integration evident in the cultures in the Southern Hemisphere, where Santa Fe (Holy Faith) was the principal colonizing feature, suggests the power of the sacred to perdure despite a history marked by gore as well as glory. Upon returning to the United States after a time of mission-ary experience in the cultures to the south, one senses how deep the ache for the Sacred is in North American culture. The pro'- gressive deconstruction of the core values and virtues that made the experiment holy suggests that our culture may have lost its. :heart.~ ',Although you express tous what is most precious to you, you do not realize how far we are from where you are," remarks Fred, Henri Nouwen's "world!y" friend for whom he composed his profound reflections, on what it means to be the beloved chil- ~ren of the Holy,G~od present in secular culture. "You speak from Annette M. Pelletier IHM c0nsid~rs this article, following upon her 'contributions to our Septembe~:-October 1993 and July-August 1994 issues, to be the conclusion of a trilogy on Mystery in relation to conse-crated life. She may be addressed at Convento Santa Rosa de Lima; E. Montenegro; Apartado 18-0703; Lima 11, Peru. Review for Religious a context and tradition that is alien to us . Many, many questions need: to be answered before we are able to be fully open to what you say about the life of the Beloved.''2 What is to be the role of us who are called, consecrated, and sent to proclaim such "belovedness" in this deconsecrated world; of us whose specific task it is to offer radical eschatological testi-mony of the coming of the kingdom? 3 Peter, a designated, author-itative witness of that kingdom (realized 'in the presence and per-son of Jesus), reminded his early Christian community "to always be ready to give a reason for their hope" (1 P 3:15). What, then, would be the reason for our hope that the consecrated life will con-tinue to exert a positive influence on a heart-less culture, one that seems no longer to have experience of the "Holy"? The "reason" for my hope. for not just the survival bat the flourishing of consecrated life in North America escapes the concrete directions suggested by the many and various scientific analyses of consecrated life that appear fis part of a search for a definitive future, The "reason" for my hope springs from what I and many oth-ers have "seen and heard" (1 Jn 1:3) of the Mystery of God made manifest in the misery of the absolute poverty in one of our sis-ter cultures in Latin America, Peru. Montenegro, a densely pop-ulated pueblojoven or asentamiento humano (shanty town) situated about forty-five minutes by bus from Lima, owes its misery to both Shining Path terrorism and the disastrous effects of "fujishock" economics on those who have fled from terrorism in the Peruvian sierra during the last decade. No sociological anal-ysis explains why the pueblo children still danced for the fiestas in their school, Fey Alegria 37, and the sisters and the teachers and families stuck together in hope despite the extreme poverty and the designation of the zone as "red" during the darkest days of the reign of terror.4 One "reason" for hope, then, can be the simple fact that this pueblo and its fragile institutions have survived, despite the unholy One "reason" for hope, then, can be the simple fact that this pueblo and its fragile institutions have survived, despite the unholy cultural influences of terrorism and hunger. November-December 1997 Pelletier ¯ Misery Meets Mystery in Montenegro cultural influences of terrorism and hunger. Here is hard:evi-dence, provided by real people who survived' to live, instead of living to merely survive. The madres solteras (single mothers) who raise children of partners who abandon them for another; the youth who are old before they have a chance to be young; the knot of little children who play on the step of the mission-house door--none of these Montenegro dnawim have access to analyt-ical research charting their survival or demise. They simply live their reality, struggling to survive, struggling to find. meaning. Without the luxury of an education, they meet Mystery in their misery on Mystery's 6wn terms. Even though most of them will never really better their lot in life according to North American standards, they seem not to have lost. the reason for their hope. Yes, large numbers may eventually resort or succumb to every vice that a culture of absolute poverty provokes. Yet there :are those who do survive with their dignity as human beings intaci:. Who are they? How are they able to survive? What do they have to say to the religious missioned to the first world, who also seek to survive, but in a culture whose very richness impoverishes the attractiveness, the beauty, the dignity, and the grace of a way of life in love with Life itself?. Could the observation ofMircea Eliade, the famed scholar of religious anthropology, be true: that the evo-lution of modern cultures has generated an atmosphere of intel-lectual elitism in which detachment from the patterns of traditional religion severs Western culture from its core values and belief systems? 5 So what recourse do persons consecrated to the Holy have if they are to survive the consequences of Western culture's demise? The Word had a special word for the religiously lettered and learned Who came by night to ask him questions about signs seen hinting the advent of a new world within the world. To the Nicodemus-like, Jesus counseled that the lettered and the elite turn and become like a child. Anyone privileged to see, hear, and touch the children who, despite the misery of their absolute poverty and the scourge of terrorism, sing and dance in the desert cannot help marveling at the mystery of their "unreasonable" rea-. son to hope. What do they, the "little ones," the ones immersed in the misery of absolute poverty, have to say about the mystery of their survival? Could it be that their link to traditional popu-lar religion provides them with the treasure which cultures to the north have lost: a reason for hope?6 , Review for Religious Who are these ragtag "children of the dust" gathered on the luxurious slab of cement gracing the mission-house front door? From early in the morning until late in the night, this mob of ragamuffins never seems to wonder about "survival," despite the dubious nature of their next meal. They do not have time to worry. They are obviously too busy creatively constructing their own livable-in-the-now reality. The ever plentiful stones and rocks are transformed in,their imagination to sports cars and trucks. Rags and bits of scrap paper adorn a gringa-faced "Barbie" in highest fashion. So actively engaged in living life to the hilt, these tawny tots are too busy having fun to be concerned about surviving. Sure, they are hungry and ill clad. By our standards they are woefully abused by family systems that claim "the more I beat you, the more I love you." But they are too resiliently cre-ative to let abuse or malnutrition get in the way of living. The ".proper7 things they deserve as fundamental rights--healthcare, education, food--hardly get a thought. One hesitates to say it, but, to almost every visitor, these kids on the step are definitely having fun. Their joy, laughter, unsuppressible desire to befriend anyone, especially foreigners visiting the mission house, betrays the secret entry of Mystery into their absolute misery. Their grasp on an unseen reason for their hope renders ridiculous the first-world worries about where God and religion and the church might fit in a deconstructed culture. "Multiphrenia" is one malaise the Montenegrinos never get. The inner' chaos caused by too much input from too many conflicting media sources promoting ever changing values is a postmodern misery they miss.7 Take, for example, ten-year-old Lorenzo, a victim of his father's abuse. Every so often Lorenzo is whacked in the face. with an iron pipe for not bringing in his share of the family keep. How could little Lorenzo, every visitor's fast friend, keep smiling, jest-ing, and joking despite the ugly scarson his ever dirty face? The Mystery of God peeks through his misery in his nonconcern for predictable "survival." That unerasable smile insists that God's Mystery is manifest even in this most undeserved misery. Just what is it that keeps that smile on his face--and so many others like his!--in this desert valley of so many, many tears? Does his smile betray a reason to hope that we cannot, yet, see? These stepkids also deal with the reality of too few resources and personnel to assure them of a viable future. Most children are without parents until late in the night, when Mom or Dad or November-December 1997 Pelletier ¯ Misery Meets Mystery in Montenegro live-in mate come

Issue 71.1 of the Review for Religious, 2012. This was the final issue. ; Volume 71 2012 Editor Michael G. Harter sj Associate Editor Garth L. Hallett sj Book Review Editor Rosemary Jermann Scripture Scope Eugene Hensell osb Editorial Staff Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp e v i e w f o r r e l i g i o u s A Journal of Catholic Spirituality contents prisms 4 Prisms Ignatian spirituality 8 Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? We Are Sent Kathleen Hughes rscj explores the provocative parallels between the Four Weeks of the Spiritual Exercises and the four-part rhythm of the Eucharist as two ways we are caught up in the work of God in Christ, and two invitations to replicate the whole life, death, and rising of Jesus. This article was one of the keynote presentations at Ignatian Spirituality Conference V held in St. Louis, Missouri, July 21-24, 2011. 29 Without the Drama: The Transition from Third to Fourth Week Ronald Mercier sj explores how those who make the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius are invited to enter into a grand silence where they contemplate the empty space without answers that follows the crucifixion—the space that remains the context of our lives, the place of our ministries, and the space within which joy dawns for those who know the Risen Lord. Questions for Reflection 58 Finding or Seeking God in All Things: A Few Cautionary Notes Peter J. Schineller sj researches the phrase "finding God in all things," common in writings about Ignatian spirituality, and discovers that it is rare in the writings of Ignatius. He finds that phrases such as "searching for and seeking God in all things" more accurately describe the Ignatian approach. 2 Review for Religious sharing experience 69 The Warmth, the Will, and the Way Ben Harrison mc is discovering that it helps him be more consistent in his spiritual journey if he is attentive to the warmth of the Spirit's presence in his heart and to the vows as an expression of the will to move deeper in his relationship with God. 78 Getting with the Program A young man writes of his experience of coming to terms during the novitiate with his addiction to pornography. This article could be used profitably as a case study during a novitiate class or read as background for a community discussion. Questions for Personal Reflection and Group Study discernment models 86 Dialogue with the Radically Other: Models of Discernment in the Old Testament Ligita Ryliskyte md phd sje explores the rich imagery of the Old Testament and offers valuable paradigms to understand spiritual discernment as a dialogue with God. In this essay she describes four models of discernment that might be distinguished in Old Testament imagery. departments 100 Scripture Scope: Vocation and the Call to Discipleship: A Reflection on Mark 1:16-20 105 Book Reviews 71.1 2012 3 Review for Religious prisms 4 A wise man once said: "It's a shame to waste a good crisis." If that is true, Review for Religious is facing a moment of great opportunity. In recent years the number of subscribers has steadily fallen off, and the cost of publication has risen to the point that our future as a print journal is in jeop-ardy. The recent deaths of Fathers Fischer and Fleming have taken their toll. We have reached a critical point in our history. When my provincial assigned me to succeed David Fleming as editor, he gave me a specific mission: Assess the viability of the publication. So for the past year, the staff and our advisory board have taken that mission seriously even as we worked to meet our ordinary production schedule. While we all hoped to be able to keep this good work alive, the real goal of our discernment was not to save or to close the journal, but to explore ways to more effectively serve the church. In the past months we have consulted widely. We looked at the shifting demographics of reli-gious life and understood that younger reli-gious are getting more of their information on 71.1 2012 5 the Internet than through printed periodicals. We sorted through spreadsheets of detailed financial information. We looked hard at our available resources and realized that we could sustain publication of the journal in its present format for a maximum of three to five years. The hand-writing on the wall could not be clearer: Simply maintain-ing operations as they are will inevitably lead to closure. Maintenance, without change, is not an option. Part of our analysis took us back to look at our history. Our journal came into being in 1941 at a Jesuit theolo-gate in St. Marys, Kansas, where three enterprising faculty members—Augustine Ellard, Adam Ellis, and Gerald Kelly (later joined by Henry Willmering)—invited their students to edit and publish the papers they wrote as class assignments in what became the early incarnation of this journal which has served the church and religious life proudly for the past 70 years. Richard Smith, Daniel F. X. Meenan, Philip Fischer and David Fleming edited the publi-cation over the subsequent decades. Since Review for Religious was founded at a small theology school, we began exploring the idea that a theology center, rather than the confines of our office, would be a more logical site for the publication of this journal. As we realized that a network of theology centers around the world linked through the Internet could have great potential for producing articles and generating lively discussion, we began exploring that path. We contacted the moderators of Jesuit Conferences that have significant centers of religious formation in Africa, India, and the Asia-Pacific region—in parts of the world Augustine Ellard, Adam Ellis, Gerald Kelly, Henry Willmering Review for Religious Author • Title 6 where religious life is growing—to see if any of them would have an interest in assuming responsibility for the journal. As a result of our inquiries, we are engaged in a conversa-tion with just such a center about continuing the mission of Review for Religious. We are not looking to replicate the journal as it cur-rently exists, but are talking about re-envisioning and re-designing it with current and future generations of religious in mind. As a result of our discussions and discernment, we have determined that this copy of Review for Religious is the final issue that will be produced by our St. Louis office. Whether the journal remains as a print publication, or is redesigned for delivery on the Internet, or ceases publication altogether is yet to be determined. In the meantime, we are suspending publication and putting a moratorium on renewals or new subscriptions until our discernment is completed. To say that we have reached the end is premature. A hiatus or pause is a more accurate description. As Ron Mercier points out in his article in this issue, a rest is as important a part of a musical score as is a chord or a whole string of arpeggios. And such a time of waiting can be a rich moment. We are not sitting idly while the discussion goes on but are in the process of digitizing our entire collection. We plan to make every article, poem, and book review we have published available on the Internet. It should be an invalu- Richard Smith, Daniel Meenan, Philip Fischer, and David Fleming. 71.1 2012 7 able archive for anyone wishing to research the shifts in religious life during the past 70 years. I am grateful to our current staff: Mary Ann Foppe, who has been the office manager for the past 25 years; Judy Sharp, our receptionist, who has handled subscriptions; Rosemary Jermann, who has written the Bookshelf column; Garth Hallett sj, who has served as Associate Editor; Tracy Gramm, who has done layout and graphic design. I have appreciated Ed Hensell osb, Elizabeth McDonough op, Richard Hill sj, and Joseph Gallen sj, who have provided regular columns over the years, and Jean Read, Iris Ann Ledden ssnd, Regina Siegfried asc, Claire Boehmer asc, Joe Meek, and many oth-ers who have made major behind-the-scenes contri-butions. They have been an excellent staff. We are grateful to the countless number of con-tributors who have sent us manuscripts and poetry for our consideration. They helped us keep our finger on the pulse of religious life. And finally, we thank you, our faithful subscribers. We are grateful for your support, and we trust that we have been an important resource for you over the years. Please read the inside of the back cover of this issue. It contains details about how to keep informed about the progress of our discernment. We will notify each subscriber about the outcome of that discernment. Please pray that the Spirit will lead us to a good conclusion. Michael Harter SJ Rosemary Jermann, Mary Ann Foppe, Tracy Gramm, Judy Sharp and Michael Harter Review for Religious Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? We Are Sent I need to begin with a confession. I was given an assignment to speak about the Eucharist, particularly as it describes a way of life flowing from Weeks Three and Four of the Exercises. I am not an expert on the Spiritual Exercises, but I have been a student of the Eucharist for many decades, so I was happy to think about this topic. And, though the talk was still non-existent, a description had to be prepared for the program booklet. Many of you have prob-ably had the same experience. You make up a description of a talk right out of thin air, hop-ing to be sufficiently generic so you can talk about almost anything at all. kathleen hughes ignatian spirituality 8 Kathleen Hughes rscj, former professor of Word and Worship at the Catholic Theological Union in Chicago and former provincial of her order's United States prov-ince, is currently a mission consultant in the Network of Sacred Heart Schools. Her address is 541 S. Mason Road; St. Louis, Missouri 63141. 71.1 2012 9 But a funny thing happened to me on the way to the topic assigned. I took a detour. I stumbled onto what I regard as an amazing new insight about how the Eucharist and the Spiritual Exercises mirror each other. At first I thought I was the last to arrive. Then I checked with those who have far greater familiarity with the literature on the Spiritual Exercises, and no one had heard any reflection on such a topic. That, too, gave me pause and left me wondering how far out on a limb I was climbing. Nevertheless, here's the insight I want to develop in the first part of this talk: there seems to be a quite provocative parallel between the Four Weeks of the Spiritual Exercises and the four-part rhythm of the Eucharist. The gathering rites of the Eucharist include elements of praise and penitence, as are typical of movements in Week One of the Spiritual Exercises; the Liturgy of the Word is the gradual unfolding of the person and work of Jesus Christ, as occurs in Week Two; the Liturgy of the Eucharist, the celebration of Jesus' death for the life of the world, is the heart of Week Three; and the concluding rites of the Eucharist have an affinity with the rhythms of Week Four. In these pages I intend to develop this thesis in more detail, hoping in the process to give fresh insight into God's activity in these two parallel celebrations of the paschal mystery—these two ways we are being caught up in the work of God in Christ. Then I will move to a focus on the Eucharist itself, as it flows from Week Three, incarnates the intimacy of Week Four, and remains the abiding experience of consolation, chal-lenge, and invitation to faithful living, parallel to leav-ing retreat and picking up everyday life. Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 10 Part I: Parallels Overview First, then, before we look at the Four Weeks of the Spiritual Exercises and the four parts of the Eucharist in more detail, let me offer an overview of the resonances I've discovered between them. Both the Eucharist and the Spiritual Exercises are a series of movements or stages that, negotiated with grace, realize the Christian ideal of identification with Christ. Both are invitations to conversion; both, at their heart, are offers of holi-ness and transformation. Both the Exercises and the Eucharist have a basic psychological rhythm that facili-tates growth in the spiritual life. The Exercises and the Eucharist as we know them only gradually evolved to their present form. The Exercises began as jottings in Ignatius's personal notebook—conso-lations, desolations, graces received—and this collec-tion of insights developed into a practical manual as Ignatius gave them to oth-ers and learned from their experience. They remain a core series of spiritual exercises that are endlessly flexible as enfleshed in the lives of individuals. The Eucharist, too, is the result of a gradual evolution over time around the core of readings and the breaking of bread, making every age and every human commu-nity a fresh inculturation of a basic pattern. Happily, in our day the basic four-part structure of gathering, listening, responding, and sending has been recovered in the liturgical reforms of the Second Vatican Council. Both the Eucharist and the Spiritual Exercises interrupt our ordinary time with extraordinary grace. 71.1 2012 11 Interestingly, both the Exercises and the Eucharist are filled with words, indeed with dialogue, and with spaces of silence. Both also make appeal to all of our senses and stir up mystagogical insights in those who are attentive. Both the Eucharist and the Spiritual Exercises interrupt our ordinary time with extraordinary grace; they help us to make sense of our life as it is unfolding before the living God. And both the Eucharist and the Exercises send us to live, in deed, what we have just experienced in this time of encounter with the divine. Finally, both these patterns of prayer follow, for most of us, familiar and predictable dynamics and so, for each, we need the grace to pay attention, to move beyond the familiar in order to get inside the mysteries. The First Week and the Gathering Rites of the Eucharist We come to retreat or to Eucharist just as we are, and we bring our history and our particular world with us into this sacred time and place. We come, sometimes breathlessly, from the work we have just left behind and the preoccupations that fill our minds and hearts. We come always with unfinished business and with distrac-tions, even burdens, of body and spirit. We come with our crosses and our inexhaustible needs. We come because we are drawn to a time and space of intimacy and prayer, of encounter with the Lord who will tutor our hearts, of transformation to new and deeper life. We come to be nourished. We come remembering God's goodness and God's fidelity to us, no matter our own response. We come hoping to touch our finger to the flame once again, placing ourselves, for this span of time, on holy ground. God's unconditional and ever-faithful love perme-ates our awareness in Week One. Each one of us has Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 12 been blessed with divine life; God's creative activity has showered each of us in unique ways and has supported and sustained us throughout our lives. In face of the immense goodness of God, we acknowledge our inade-quate response; we know that sin has hindered our rela-tionships with self and others and, above all, with God. Week One provides the opportunity to recognize sin as our failure to respond with love to God always present, to express our own sorrow and repentance, and then to know God's ever-greater love, mercy, and forgiveness. We reflect on our lives in light of God's boundless love for us, knowing that God wants to free us of everything that gets in the way of a loving response. The focus is less on particular sins than on our relationship with God that has been damaged, perhaps even shattered. Yet it is a relationship always available, for God longs for intimacy with us far more than we could ask or even imagine. Our personal history gives us hope: God is filled with mercy and compassion, slow to anger, full of kindness. God's response to our repentance is mercy and forgiveness. By the end of the First Week, we know ourselves as sinners, loved and rescued by a God who is so much greater than our hearts. These same heart movements are present in the gathering rites of the Eucharist. We generally begin the celebration with a hymn of praise and thanksgiving. We are then invited into a time of silence before the liv-ing God, and we cannot but realize our unworthiness and our experience of sin. In the language of the new Missal we own our complicity in sin "through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault," and we join with one another in begging for mercy and for-giveness: "Lord, have mercy." Then the Gloria is our hymn of praise after the words of absolution: "May 71.1 2012 13 almighty God have mercy on you, forgive you your sins, and bring you to life everlasting. Amen." We begin the Eucharist knowing ourselves as loved sinners, disposed to open our hearts to the word proclaimed in our midst. There are two additional striking parallels between the First Week of the Exercises and the gathering rites of Eucharist. The first has to do with the cross of Christ, for the cross is prominent at the beginning of both experiences. The retreatant is invited to make a first meditation before the cross; similarly, when we gather for the Eucharist, the entrance procession places the cross at the very beginning of the celebration. There is nothing like the cross of Christ to sharpen our focus, to bring us to the sober reality that relationships have consequences, that the paschal mystery of Jesus' life, death, and rising is what has made it possible to draw near to the throne of grace. And here's a second intriguing possibility with the Eucharist. There is a presidential prayer at the conclu-sion of the entrance rites, another at the preparation of the table and the gifts, and a third after Communion. These are all, essentially, prayers of petition; they each ask for a specific grace that is dependent for its focus on the place of the prayer in the rite. We really could think of these prayers as "preludes" that name and ask for a specific grace as we move from one week to the next, from one part of the Eucharist to the next. For example, the opening prayer for today's liturgy, the Seventeenth Sunday, Year A, from icel's Missal of 1998, reads: God of eternal wisdom, You alone impart the gift of right judgment. Grant us an understanding heart that we may value wisely the treasure of your kingdom Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 14 and gladly forego all lesser gifts to possess that kingdom's incomparable joy. We make our prayer through Our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son Who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit God for ever and ever. Amen.1 What a perfect presidential prayer to open our hearts to the Word of God; what a perfect prelude to move to Week Two of the Exercises. The Second Week and the Liturgy of the Word The parallels between the Second Week of the Exercises and the Liturgy of the Word are easily dis-cernible. Both focus on the scriptures, and both invite decision; both are grounded in the Gospels and in the Mystery who is Christ; both the Spiritual Exercises and the Liturgy of the Word, over time, offer an intimate encounter with Jesus of Nazareth—healing, teaching, sharing meals, welcoming sinners, going about doing good, spending the night in union with his Abba, gath-ering disciples and forming their hearts. We reflect on scripture passages, in retreat as at Mass, one after another, not in order to know the scriptures better but to discover ever more fully the One whom they disclose to us. During the Second Week of the Exercises, like Martha's sister, Mary, the retreatant sits at the feet of Jesus, the teacher, drawn to his person, absorbing his attitudes and values, his choices, his preaching of the dream of God for the world, for humankind, for each of us. The Second Week, of course, is not full only of the consolation of spending time with a dear friend. That 71.1 2012 15 dear friend of ours also reveals to us the cost of dis-cipleship, the misunderstandings, the disappointments, the gathering storm of criticism and anger. We take in the whole of the life of Jesus Christ and are drawn to know him more intimately, to love him more ardently, and to follow him more faithfully. We choose to be dis-ciples of the perfect disciple. Empowered by the love of God experienced in Week One and by Jesus' friendship, which deepens for us in Week Two, we choose an ever closer relationship with him, no matter what. Loved sin-ners become loving servants, embracing and following Jesus, setting our faces, with him, to Jerusalem. It has been written that during the Second Week "We find ourselves drinking in the experiences of Jesus, so that we begin to assimilate his values, his loves, his freedom. This style of praying provides the necessary content of decision-making or discernment, which forms an essential part of the Second Week and is meant to be an abiding part of a Christian's life that is shaped by the Exercises."2 Of course, those statements also describe a regu-lar pattern of solitary prayer in daily life that reaches its summit in the Eucharist. God speaks to our hearts, opening up for us the mystery of redemption and salva-tion and offering us spiritual nourishment; Christ him-self is present in the midst of the community through the Word proclaimed.3 The cycle of readings, highlighting first one evange-list's portrait of Christ and then another's in the three-year cycle, invites our reflection on the life and ministry of Jesus, his proclamation of the Good News, his say-ings and parables, his teachings and miracles, and, espe-cially during Lent and the triduum, how his face was set to Jerusalem during his last days on earth. The Gospel is the highpoint of the Liturgy of the Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 16 Word, and we mark it with various signs of reverence for the book and with the tracing of the cross on our forehead, lips, and breast, praying that our mind be opened, that our words be true, and that our whole being be exposed to the consolation and the challenge of a Gospel way of life. The homily follows. The General Instruction of the Roman Missal describes the homily as a necessary source of nourishment of the Christian life.4 In fact, for a majority of Christians it is often the only source of spir-itual nourishment in a busy week. The Second Week of the Exercises illuminates the challenge to those who give the homily in the Eucharist. The point of the hom-ily is identical to the grace sought in Week Two of the Exercises, namely, to enable the assembly to know Jesus more intimately, to love him more ardently and to follow him more faithfully. Nothing less! Not entertainment. Not exegesis. Not personal self-disclosure. Nothing less than knowing, loving, and following Christ, choosing his choices, becoming gradually and almost imperceptibly more like him, putting on his mind and heart. Just as one chooses discipleship at the end of Week Two, so too there is a choice at the end of the Liturgy of the Word. As we prepare to move from the Table of God's Word to the Table of the Lord's Supper, we join ourselves to Christ and ask that we too be transformed every bit as much as the bread and the wine, that we and they may become for us and for our world the Body and Blood of Christ. The Third Week and the Liturgy of the Eucharist The focus of Week Three is both the Last Supper and the Passion. So, too, these two themes are conflated in the Liturgy of the Eucharist: "the Sacrifice of the 71.1 2012 17 Cross and its sacramental renewal in the Mass, which Christ the Lord instituted at the Last Supper and com-manded the apostles to do in his memory, are one and the same, differing only in the manner of offering, and . . . consequently the Mass is at once a sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving, of propitiation and satisfaction."5 The first meditation of the Exercises in Week Three is on the Last Supper in its entirety—including the preparations, the choice of place, the arrangements for the meal, the assembling in the upper room, Christ's washing of the apostles' feet, the supper itself, Christ's giving of his body and blood in Eucharist as the ultimate expression of his love for them, and his final words, his last will and testament, that they continue this same action in his memory. Much of this finds a resonance in the Liturgy of the Eucharist. There is, of course, first the preparation of the table and the gifts, the preparation of the altar itself and then of the offerings of bread and wine. There is the washing of the hands of the presider, a ritual of cleansing and interior purification in readiness for all that will follow. There is the prayer over the gifts, a simple and focused petition—a second "prelude," if you will, asking in a variety of ways that the gifts we have placed on the table will become holy and that we our-selves will be caught up in this action and be made holy to the praise and glory of God. Then the great prayer of praise and thanksgiving, the Eucharistic Prayer, begins. We tell the story of Jesus' life, death, and rising. We enter into Christ's liturgy, the endless self-giving of Christ into the hands of the One he called Abba, from whom he receives back his life. Our worship is an offering of our whole selves with and in Christ to God. That is our participation in the paschal Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 18 mystery of Christ's obedience unto death, our identifica-tion with Christ in his radical obedience to God. Have you ever used one of the Eucharistic Prayers for your meditation during Week Three? The Eucharistic Prayer is addressed to God the Father. Could we not think of it as a colloquy with the One Jesus called Abba, our own intimate conversation with God, as we ponder the mystery of the Passion? By turns, the Eucharistic Prayer "collo-quy" offers thanksgiving to God for the whole work of salvation realized in Christ; it implores the action of God's transforming Spirit; it tells the story again of the night before Jesus died when he offered his body and blood, gave the apostles to eat and drink, and left them a command to perpetuate this mystery; it recalls the events that fol-lowed the supper, especially the blessed Passion of Christ together with his victory over sin and death; it makes an offering to God not only of the spotless victim but of our-selves so that day by day we might be perfected through Christ the mediator and be brought into unity with God and with each other when God may be all in all.6 It is a perfect prayer; it is a perfect condensed statement of what we believe and what we long for; it is a colloquy, if you will, that gathers up and gives expression to the faith of the community in Jesus' salvific death and rising and our par-ticipation in that mystery. There is no better word at the end of the Eucharistic Prayer, or at the end of our Third Week meditation on the Passion as we dwell in the silence of God, than the word "Amen." So be it. Week Four and the Communion and Concluding Rites We are ready for Week Four—Jesus' resurrection and his apparitions to his mother, to the women, to the disciples, to Mary in the garden. Always the message is 71.1 2012 19 the same: do not be afraid; peace be with you; go now and tell the good news; go now to feed my lambs. And as peace is the gift of the Risen One, we beg that same peace for the whole human family, and we ask for mutual love among ourselves. We approach the table of the Lord and receive the one Bread of Life, which is Christ who died and rose for the salva-tion of the world. Our Communion makes us one with the Risen Christ, and the last presidential prayer, the prayer after Communion, is a final "prelude"—a peti-tion that we might go forth and live, in deed, what we have just done in word and ritual action. "Please make this Communion take!" this prayer seems to beg. We become what we eat. Through the Communions of our lifetime we are gradually being transformed into God. We know that we ourselves and our world have been radically changed by Jesus' resurrection, and we embrace his commission to become the Heart of God on earth. In contemplating the love of God in the conclud-ing exercise of Week Four, we pray an intimate prayer of thanksgiving to the One who has shared his life so completely with us that we are filled with gratitude and with a desire to make a generous return of love. "Take, Lord, receive," we say, and in so doing we express our availability before God for whatever we will face, rely-ing simply and completely on God's grace. We know ourselves as blessed and sent. Thus far I have been developing the ways that the Eucharist and the Spiritual Exercises mirror and some-times illuminate aspects of each other. As a transition to the second part of this reflection, I suggest pausing over the words of the "Anima Christi" using David Fleming's translation. It was David who said that this prayer is a summary of the dynamics of the whole movement Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 20 of the Exercises, and he also described the prayer as a summary of the transformation wrought through the Eucharist. Jesus, may all that is you flow into me. May your body and blood be my food and drink. May your passion and death be my strength and life. Jesus, with you by my side enough has been given. May the shelter I seek be the shadow of your cross. Let me not run from the love which you offer, but hold me safe from the forces of evil. On each of my dyings shed your light and your love. Keep calling to me until that day comes, when, with your saints, I may praise you forever. Amen.7 Part II: Living the Eucharist David Fleming also called the "Anima Christi" a summary of the living of the Fourth Week in the everyday, so it is to that topic we turn, the living of the Eucharist. Many years ago I read a book by Gregory Dix called The Shape of the Liturgy, a very long, very erudite history of the Eucharist by an Anglican clergyman and liturgi-cal scholar. At the conclusion, around page seven hun-dred something, the author shifts from liturgical history, archeology, and philology to spirituality. He quotes the words of Jesus at the Last Supper, "Do this in memory of me," and then poses an intriguing question: Was ever another command so obeyed? Dix paints an extraordinary picture: Century after century, spreading slowly to every continent and country, to every race on earth, this action of Eucharist has been carried out in every conceivable human circumstance and for every conceivable human need, from the heights of 71.1 2012 21 power to places of poverty and need, for royalty at their crowning and for criminals going to the scaffold, for a bride and bridegroom in a little country church, for the wisdom for the Parliament of a mighty nation, for a sick old woman afraid to die, for Columbus setting out to discover the New World, for a barren couple hoping for a child, by an old monk on the fiftieth anniversary of his vows, and on and on. Dix lyrically enumerates these and scores of other instances in which the Christian com-munity has been faithful to Jesus' command, "Do this."8 Over the centuries the Eucharist has been celebrated by innumerable millions of entirely obscure faithful women and men like you and me, people with hopes and fears and joys and sorrows and sins and temptations and prayers every bit as vivid and alive as yours and mine are now. Week by week, on a hundred thousand succes-sive Sundays, faithfully, unfailingly, the followers of Jesus have done just this for the remembrance of him.9 This is an extraordinary picture of the sacrament that constitutes the community, of the event that binds us together, one with another and with Christians of every age, place, race, tongue, and way of life. The Eucharist has been like a wave of grace rolling over the community again and again across the centuries of Christendom, hollowing out spaces for the divine in the midst of the everyday. Was ever another command so obeyed? But after pondering Dix, I realized that when I con-sidered that Last Supper of Jesus and his friends, there was another question on my mind. When Jesus said "do this in remembrance of me," what did he mean by the this? Surely not just the Jewish pattern of the meal, though we know a lot about Jewish rituals, the blessing of bread, the number of cups, the style of blessing said over both. Surely the this is something more. What are Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 22 we being asked to do? to be? to embrace? to celebrate? What commitment do we make when we say "Amen"? Scripture supplies two directions toward an answer: one in the Synoptic accounts of the supper and Paul's First Letter to the Corinthians, and the other in the Gospel of John. Recall the words of Paul describing the Last Supper: I received from the Lord what I also delivered to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it, and said, "This is my body which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me." In the same way also the cup, after supper, saying, "This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me" (1 Cor 11:23-25). Do this in remembrance of me. But what is the this? Have you ever considered that the Last Supper was precisely that—it was the last. The Last Supper was the last of a whole series of Jesus' meals recorded in the Scriptures. Jesus never played the pious ascetic, keep-ing away from celebrations. He loved a good feast. He used that image of feasting as a metaphor of the reign of God—a great banquet. It was said of him, "This man is a glutton and a drunkard." An even more shocking accusa-tion was whispered behind his back: "This man sits down at table with sinners, with the morally dubious, with the outcasts of society, with those living on the fringes." On nearly every page of the Gospels there is a meal or a reference to food. Jesus calls out to Zacchaeus, "Get down from that tree. I'm coming to your house for What commitment do we make when we say "Amen"? 71.1 2012 23 lunch." There is the story of Simon who threw a din-ner party but was an inattentive host, and of the woman who slipped in to minister to Jesus as he sat at Simon's table. There is the story of Peter's mother-in-law who is cured only to get up and wait on them. There is the Syrophoenician woman who would not take no for an answer, who spoke about crumbs that fell from the table and who expected—and received—more than crumbs from this man. There are the feeding miracles that tell us something of the utter lavishness of the banquet and that everyone will receive enough and there will still be something left over for another day. There are parables of feasts, of great abundance, of jockeying for places at table, of appropriate attire, of filling the room with those drawn from the highways and the byways. Even the risen appearances of Jesus include meals. "Peace be with you," Jesus says. "What's for dinner?" On the shore, in the upper room, on the way to Emmaus, they recognize him in the breaking of the bread. How do you recognize someone? Even at a distance, you rec-ognize the timbre of a voice, or a particular gesture, or the slight tilt of the head so characteristic of an indi-vidual. The disciples recognized Jesus for what was most characteristic of him: the way he broke the bread. What is the this that we are to replicate? It is the whole life and ministry of Jesus at table. Scripture scholars refer to this as Jesus' ministry of table fellow-ship. To share food, in Semitic times, was to share life itself. And Jesus shared life with an astonishing assort-ment of people. Everyone was welcome to sit with him at table, to tell stories and to break the bread. Jesus' ministry of table fellowship is a ministry of universal reconciliation, no exceptions. The Last Supper reca-pitulated the attitudes and values of Jesus, who opened Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 24 his table and his heart to everyone, who offered hospi-tality to all, who was himself at home with all manner of people, who knew the human need for nourishment of body, mind, and spirit and who was always present to the other—welcoming, reconciling, offering life. Do this in memory of me. The Gospel of John offers a second answer to the question "What is the this?" In John there is a very dif-ferent institution narrative. It is the account of the foot washing. We know the story so well. Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, rose from supper, laid aside his garments, and girded himself with a towel. He poured water into a basin, and began to wash the disciples' feet, and to wipe them with the towel. Peter resisted this tenderness until Jesus pressed: "If I do not wash you, you have no part with me." Peter relented in typical Peter fashion: "Not my feet only but also my hands and my head!" When Jesus had com-pleted the washing and resumed his place, he said to them, "Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord; and you are right, for so I am. If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have given you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you" (Cf. Jn 13:1-15). You should do as I have done. In other words, "Do this in memory of me." I had an experience when I was studying at the University of Notre Dame that colors my understand-ing of the washing of the feet after the manner of Jesus. Notre Dame has a reputation for the excellence of its liturgical studies program and, at least when I was there, for the perfection of its liturgical celebrations: every 71.1 2012 25 minister rehearsed; every detail on a checklist; every liturgy perfect. And, during the sacred triduum, the lit-urgies were even more perfect! It was Holy Thursday and time for the foot washing. Twelve people moved forward, probably having prepared for the foot wash-ing by carefully washing their feet! Then, seemingly from nowhere, a very unkempt man started up the aisle, staggering a bit, perhaps under the weather. It was one of those stunning moments. Time stood still. Then the deacon walked down the aisle to help the man for-ward and assist him in taking off his shoes and socks. What is the this? Tender and loving care for the other; accepting our mutual vulnerabilities; choosing to open our hearts to all, even the one staggering into our life and upsetting its plans and perfections. Foot washing is not just a way of life but an attitude of heart, a kneeling before the other in reverence. Foot washing is embrac-ing a way of service after the manner of Jesus, simply, generously, not counting the cost. Do this: Embrace my attitudes and values as your own. Love those I love, and be my heart to them. Welcome the stranger, the one on the margins, the disenfranchised. Become vulnerable with one another. Kneel in reverence, especially before those whom soci-ety shuns. Nourish one another's bodies and spirits. Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep, both here at home and half a world away— those in Norway who are paralyzed by a massacre they Foot washing is not just a way of life but an attitude of heart, a kneeling before the other in reverence Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 26 could never have imagined, those who are starving from the drought in Africa, those who are terrified of nuclear contamination in Japan, those who are caught up in trafficking around the globe or denied asylum here at home, those who have lost the ones they love and all they owned in fire, flood, tornado, or earthquake. Make a habit of roaming the globe in prayer so that you do not remain distant from the joys and pain of the world. Send those waves of grace once again across continents and cultures to bathe our world in the love and mercy of Eucharist. Do this in memory of me. Conclusion Week Three invites us to experience the Last Supper, to place ourselves there in the upper room, to look around at the faces, to listen to the words, to pon-der them in our hearts as we watch the immense tender-ness of the Lord with those he loved even to the end, whose hearts he was tutoring even on the night before he died. And we have stayed with him, watched and prayed with him, and accompanied him as he gave up his life. Then we have simply dwelt in silence. That same intimacy and presence to one another marks Week Four, a time of tenderness and affection with the risen Jesus who shares his love and his joy with us but does not let us cling to him. He sends us as apostles, empowered by his Spirit, to continue his sav-ing presence, to be his heart on earth. And day by day, week by week, the Eucharist con-tinues to draw us into these mysteries. The heart of the Eucharist is Jesus Christ. The heart of it is the cel-ebration of Jesus' life, death, and rising every time we gather—and the merging of our daily living and dying with his and with one another—for the life of the world. 71.1 2012 27 The heart of it is joining ourselves to Christ, the perfect sacrifice, to the praise and glory of God. The heart of it is begging that the Spirit will transform each one of us just as really as the bread and wine so that we become more and more Christ's Body in truth, not just in name. The heart of it is learning over and over again to say "Amen" to all of these realities and—at least some-times— actually meaning it. Meaning "Amen," meaning yes I will try to live, in deed, in the coming days, what we have just enacted in word and ritual action. I conclude with a favorite reflection of mine on the word "Amen." Be careful of simple words said often. "Amen" makes demands like an unrelenting schoolmaster: fierce attention to all that is said; no apathy, no preoccupation, no prejudice permitted. "Amen": We are present. We are open. We hearken. We understand. Here we are; we are listening to your word. "Amen" makes demands like a signature on a dotted line: sober bond to all that goes before; no hesitation, no half-heartedness, no mental reservation allowed. "Amen": We support. We approve. We are of one mind. We promise. May this come to pass. So be it. Be careful when you say "Amen."10 Notes 1 Cf. Sunday Celebration of the Word and Hours (Ottawa: Canadian Conference of Catholic Bishops, 1995). This book contains the Sunday collects prepared by the International Committee on English in the Liturgy for the Missal of 1998, since withdrawn. Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 28 2 David L. Fleming sj, "The Ignatian Spiritual Exercises: Understanding a Dynamic," in Notes on the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola (St. Louis: Review for Religious, 1981) 11. 3 General Instruction of the Roman Missal, 2003, §29, paraphrase. 4 GIRM, § 65. 5 GIRM, § 9. 6 GIRM, § 79. 7 David L. Fleming sj, The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius. A Literal Translation and a Contemporary Reading. (St. Louis: The Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1978) 3. 8 Gregory Dix, The Shape of the Liturgy (London: Dacre Press, 1945) 744-5, passim. 9 Ibid. paraphrase. 10 Barbara Schmich Searle, "Ritual Dialogue," Assembly 7:3, February, 1981. Obedience You have had my yes for years– and I have had yours since the sun, the seashells, and the storms at sea. But now, ah . . . you and I are more than yes. As time moves with, within, and around, this yes of ours takes on wings, takes on colors I never imagined, challenges that strengthen and soften me, glory that stills me, stirs me, extends and opens me. It becomes a murmur of love that we share. Love that frees me and compels me to choose you again and yet again . . . that I might respond as I wish to respond . . . openly, knowingly, even a little mysteriously . . . as the bush in the desert responded to flame. Kimberly M. King rscj 71.1 2012 ronald mercier 29 Without the Drama: The Transition from Third to Fourth Week of the Spiritual Exercises S travinsky's "Rite of Spring" caused a furor when it was first performed in 1913, but the more I listen to it, the more I think it expresses something important, and not only from a musical point of view. At the tail end of the piece, the "Sacrifice," Stravinsky tries to cap-ture the human spirit in its "pagan"—pure—form. You might want to find a recording of it and play it before you read further. Cacophony—there's no other way to describe it! Bad sound. It assaults the senses. It builds to a crescendo and with the violence of spirit that leads to the sacrifice of a human, a woman who dances herself to death for the Ronald Mercier sj is associate professor of theology at Saint Louis University and rector of the community where Jesuit scholastics pursue the study of philosophy and theology. This article was originally given as a keynote presentation at Ignatian Spirituality Conference V on July 22, 2011, in St. Louis, Missouri. Comments can be addressed to him at Bellarmine House of Studies; 3737 Westminster Place; St. Louis, Missouri 63108. Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 30 sake of the community. It is violence that can kill and wound and send to hell, to use Ignatius's words from the Incarnation meditation. In the ballet that goes with the music, there is a frenetic dance that is almost a form of madness. No wonder people were so challenged by the music; this is not about some nice ethereal enjoyment, but is a revelation of what can shape the human heart and actions. This revelation opens to our fears but not to our hopes. Curiously, the music ends with a bang, a loud discor-dant chord that leaves us waiting for something more. We would like some kind of resolution at this point, but we are left with utter silence after that dramatic end. We wait, but the music just ends. Or does it? For me, this piece leads to a reflection on the transition from the Third to the Fourth Week in the Ignatian Exercises, a movement out of a murderous drama into a disorienting grand silence within which the Fourth Week dawns. I would like to invite you to sit with Ignatius in what we would name "Holy Saturday," a place he sketches as the space for contemplation within which we experience Resurrection. My thesis is simple: Without the grand silence of Holy Saturday, the "seventh day" for Ignatius, we do not experience the joy and freedom of the Fourth Week. Waiting in the transition—a transition into, not out of, emptiness—allows for creation of the space into which the Risen Lord comes, if we let the quiet ripen. The music of Stravinsky captures the movement of the Third Week, a drama of human making. We walk with Jesus as he experiences being sacrificed for "the good of the people." Curiously, Ignatius invites us to experience the Passion, but he does not describe the gore that would have been standard fare in the spiritual-ity of his time. No doubt he assumed that people knew 71.1 2012 31 the specifics of the passion, crucifixion, and death from the religious imagination of his time. I wonder, though, whether that is all. It strikes me that we are invited into two spaces: the fullness of the world upon which the Trinity gazes in the Incarnation mediation, but also the reality of the Trinity's desire effected through what happens in these moments. In this transition, we fulfill the movement of the Incarnation meditation. Ignatius certainly invites us to "consider what Christ our Lord suffers in His human nature . . . [and] to strive to grieve, be sad, and weep" (SpEx §195). We "must be with the Lord in his suffering, [and] follow him unto his death," lest we be "simply spectators at a Passion event which may be very touching, but which in no way dis-turbs the egotism of our lives,"1 as Gilles Cusson so nicely puts it. We experience with Jesus what human egotism can do, the dramatic clash that seeks sacrifice to maintain some order. Ignatius's contemplation of the Passion has little to do with Mel Gibson's hero worship; we con-template one who embraces utter powerlessness, not "muscular humanity." Yet, Cusson also says that we need to attend to Ignatius's Fifth Point, "how the divinity hides itself; . . . it could destroy . . . but does not do so" (SpEx §196). What is God about in Christ? What goes beyond the "work of our hands," the murderous sacrifice, and actu-ally effects the will of the Trinity? Is God violent? Is We contemplate one who embraces utter powerlessness, not "muscular humanity." Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 32 this the "divinity [who] hides"? Or is the violent god our god? What occurs when our dramatic violence ends? For me, personally and as a director, this question is never academic. The temptation to remain specta-tors or to wonder at the horrors of the Passion—and so to remain distant from it and from the Resurrection— always presents itself as a path of light, as "really feeling bad" for Jesus, and perhaps knowing real (even mur-derous) anger toward those who create perverse tor-tures for him. The experi-ence of the Fourth Week then somehow appears too remote, not surprisingly, and not only because by that time we know the exhaustion of having given ourselves so radically to prayer. But if we remain spectators of the Passion, what also becomes remote is the real joy of the Fourth Week, a joy so different from the transient happiness that we may whip up but never suffices for the long-term journey. And the Fourth Week is really for the long haul, not transient at all. What alternative remains? Consider for a moment where Ignatius leads us. As he did in the contemplation on the Incarnation, he places us with the work of the Trinity and with Mary. This gives us our transition point and deserves some pause. Notice how he frames our prayer at the end of the week, the time of transition: One should consider as frequently as possible . . . that the most Sacred Body of Christ our Lord remained If we remain spectators of the Passion, what also becomes remote is the real joy of the Fourth Week. 71.1 2012 33 separated from the soul, and the place and manner of his burial. Let [the exercitant] consider, likewise, the desolation of our Lady, her great sorrow and weariness, and also that of the disciples (SpEx §208, Seventh Day). Two dimensions frame the time after the death of Jesus on the cross, two movements that invite us into a depth within which resurrection happens: the experi-ence of death in Jesus and its impact on those (like us) who love him. Resurrection, Cusson rightly suggests, never becomes a topic for consideration, but encounters us in and through the one whom we love and who has conquered death, a "confirmation from above surpass-ing all human hope."2 Let us stay, though, for a moment with the two aspects Ignatius gives us not so much as a conclusion to the Third Week as the door through which the Third Week becomes, or opens to, the Fourth Week. We have in the Christian tradition a powerful sense that the Paschal Mystery—the death, coming to the dead, and Resurrection of the Lord—never constitutes the past, something complete and over, but, rather, remains the context of our lives, the place of our ministries, the space within which joy dawns for us and for all who know the Risen Lord. Two things, then, shape this contemplation, which really becomes the shape of "the seventh day," a con-templation of the Passion as a whole. First, Ignatius begs us to consider the fullness of the death of Jesus because, without an experience of that fullness, we really cannot complete the journey of the Third Week (and of the Incarnation) or comprehend the fullness of the ways in which Jesus' ministry touches and shapes our lives and our world. We need to ponder, prayerfully, what it Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 34 means for Jesus to "remain separated from his soul," to know death, not just to "be killed." Let me suggest that this consideration never rep-resents some thought exercise or parlor game. In our culture we often trivialize death and, in fact, avoid the topic completely or paper it over with euphemisms. We do not say that people die, but that they "pass away." We make the reality so antiseptic, so unreal, that we actually generate a fear of death that drives us even to try to con-trol it, like some unruly passion. Humans have always feared death, as the social critic Ernst Becker makes clear. In our modern North American culture, though, we have created a kind of nightmare; we rarely encoun-ter the reality of someone's dying. Even worse, people have to die not freely as Jesus did, but alone, caught up in our medicalized model. Alternatively, we can make death into a mere video game: how many can we kill? By contrast, Ignatius invites us to a thoroughgoing realism. In Jesus' death, we contemplate the fullness of his human death, freely embraced for us, the fullness of the trajectory of the Incarnation. We are invited to consider especially his embrace of abandonment. Hans Urs von Balthasar, the great Swiss theologian and pro-foundly Ignatian thinker, asks us to ponder just what this means, as a path toward hope: The Redeemer showed himself therefore as the only one who, going beyond the general experience of death, was able to measure the depths of that abyss.3 Think about that with me for just a moment. For Balthasar (and here he places himself in the whole strand of Christian mystics) we desire to shield our-selves from death. We may have "the general experience of death," but we seek to hold it at bay, often at great cost. No one wants to die, of course, and from time 71.1 2012 35 immemorial we have created lovely myths of "afterlife" as ways of avoiding the fullness of what we would expe-rience in death, so that we do not really die. Instead, Ignatius invites us, in the wake of the cry by which Jesus freely gives up his spirit and accepts death, to consider what it would mean for someone freely and fully to enter into the realm of Hades, of Sheol, in which, as the psalmist says, "no one can praise You." In Jesus, God goes fully to claim the reality of human death and dying as God's very own. Balthasar uses the image of the abyss—a wonderful image—for this. We need to ponder, not morosely but in faith, the full tra-jectory of the Third Week. Ignatius places us there and asks that during the Seventh Day—however long it might be—we continually call that reality to mind and keep it before us. He invites us there in place of repetitions or Applications of the Senses, because in pon-dering the fullness of the death of Jesus, in letting it "ripen to fullness," as it were, we begin to grasp the fullness of what it means that he dies for our sake, that he goes where we would not go. If, as David Fleming, John Futrell, John English and many others suggest, the Last Supper sets the tone for the Third Week, here we know what it means to "be broken and poured out," even to the fullness of death itself. We have been praying for the grace of freedom throughout the Exercises, and in a sense here we encounter freedom in its fullness. Balthasar notes what freedom—in its purest form, free from all stain of sin—would mean: "And precisely in that did his mortal anguish and God-abandonment differ radically from the habitual anxiety of the sinner." 4 Jesus freely—and with-out defense—walks the way ahead of us, embraces our path. Jesus claims the fullness of death as a space within Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 36 which to meet us—thus, the implication of the seventh-day exercise. We can—and do—often hurry by the real-ity, or simply marvel at the wreck of a corpse in the Pietà. Ignatius, according to Balthasar, invites us to let death be full, that we might know freedom with Christ, freedom for our mission ultimately, freedom to love "even to death itself." No masochism or delectatio morosa marks this moment, but only a profound invitation to explore what we fear with the One who has gone the way before us. For Ignatius, that remains key. If Resurrection cannot grasp the fullness of what death means, if it can-not meet us in the anxiety that would hold us bound and create the kind of craziness that marks our death-obsessed culture, it remains but a "nice idea," easily dis-pensed with, perhaps. For Balthasar, Jesus delves into death as abandonment, freely, without losing hope, but relying completely on the God who alone can overcome death. Imagine "separation of soul and body" in its totality, without the experience of Resurrection that often shields us. Jesus embraces that. This descent remains but part of the story for Ignatius, since he invites us to place ourselves with Mary and the disciples in their desolation—an impor-tant context. The imagery of that placement reveals a deliberate quality in two ways: it prepares us to encoun-ter the Risen Lord and accept our mission. In one sense, of course, we explore the same space as previously, explore what it means for Jesus to have died—but now from the perspectives of those left behind. Again, Ignatius invites us to contemplate with Mary—and to some extent with Mary Magdalene—to share space and time with women who also embrace the "empty space" without defense, freely. The sinlessness of Mary parallels Jesus' own condition, and invites us 71.1 2012 37 to imagine how she, whose heart knew only openness, would experience the "separation" of soul from body. In her once again, Ignatius asks us to confront death as death, in its fullness in Jesus, in one whom we pas-sionately love. While I will focus on the encounter with Mary, the mother of Jesus, as a basic form of the Resurrection con-templations, I do not mean to suggest that one must force people to engage that path. Eventually the pattern of the Exercises does lead us there, but as John English suggests in Spiritual Freedom,5 a directee may find it difficult to enter into the purity of Mary's openness to encounter the Risen Lord; a person may find more fruitful prayer with the grief of Mary Magdalene, or the guilt of Simon Peter, or others. Still, the fullness of that openness to the Risen Lord brings us back to the full "yes" of Mary, mother of Jesus, as a paradigm of freedom. We have probably all known a parent who has lost a beloved child. As I write this I cannot help but think of the parents of a young Chinese student who failed at university and chose suicide in the face of despair. I cannot begin to imagine the grief of soul such a moment would entail for those parents; nor can I imagine the added burden of feeling guilt for having laid on a child expectations that he could not fulfill. That empty space of a dead child shocks us; "it should not happen," we say quite rightly. Parents should die before their children do. The empty space becomes almost too much to take in, though with Michelangelo's Pietà we catch a glimpse of how a face might appear when gazing on that emptiness. Yet, for the director at this point in the Exercises, especially in the face of what happens in the transition, an important distinction remains. Monty Williams, in a work in progress that he shared with me, advises that we Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 38 note two different paths as one encounters fear, notably the fear of death. There are two ways of being present to our fears. We could look at them and wonder how we can be so stupid, and then make the plans . . . to ensure those mistakes never happen again. . . . The other way . . . is to experience the amazement. . . . The more we ponder . . . it, the more we are filled with a sense of wonder—which gives no answer. That wonder, that sense of amazement, is our first awareness of the presence of God in the space we have created by looking at our fears. As Williams frames it, two choices remain. We can panic and move into flight or analysis or simply an excess of emotions to make us feel better. Or we can be attentive, in the face of such fears, to an empty space without answers—a much harder place to be. When Ignatius invites us to contemplate, to recall Mary, all of those spaces we have known in the Second Week come to mind. Mary remains for us always the one who attends, who does not withdraw, even in the face of the horror of the slaughter of the innocents, but who pon-ders. The path of our entry into the Seventh Day parallels Mary's path, and a director looks at whether the exerci-tant gets caught up in his or her own pain or can ponder the empty space with Mary—that dreadful emptiness the church hints at in stripped altars and empty tabernacles after the Good Friday service. With Mary, we hear the invitation in freedom to know our beloved Jesus as dead. A terrible space, but not a maudlin one! We hear the call to compassion, to attentiveness, to let an empty space open. In essence, Michelangelo's Pietà invites us not to wild grieving but to face the reality of Mary holding her dead son. Attentiveness is a state of waiting, but for what? 71.1 2012 39 I can't help but remember Mary Oliver's powerful poem "The Uses of Sorrow," which captures so much of what I think Ignatius presents to us in constructing a place for prayer: (In my sleep I dreamed this poem) Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this, too, was a gift.6 The poem admirably catches the difference between panic/analysis and attentiveness as ways of responding to the human—and here divine—reality of death. For us the path takes time; Ignatius invites us on the seventh day to recall this to mind again and again, but the full process may well be the journey of our lives and our dying. However, contemplating the loss of Jesus is but one dimension. With Mary—and with the disciples—we are invited to ponder the world in which, as Cleopas said, "we had hoped" but which is now a space of desolation. We face the fullness of what Ignatius means when he invites the retreatant to see and consider the Three Divine Persons. . . . They look down upon the whole surface of the earth and behold all nations in great blindness, going down to death and descending into hell (SpEx §106). The reality of human violence is seen in its full-ness in this moment, especially when, with the disciples, we see that violence is also part of their lives—in their abandoning their Master. With Mary and them, the full brutality of violence in the name of God, yet murder-ous of God, comes home to us in all its savagery. No doubt they had seen or heard of crucifixion before. This Roman "tool" helped maintain fear in the populace by destroying its memory of the one killed, lest anyone else Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 40 attempt to do what the crucified one had done. We can all rationalize human cruelty to suit our purposes. Here, though, their Master, Lord, Mentor, the one who healed, raised from the dead, preached Good News—the one they loved—becomes the victim of such cruelty. With him, the hope he had proclaimed also becomes a victim, exactly as the Romans would have desired. Hope is too dangerous a drug to a people fac-ing death. Is the reality of what Cleopas proclaimed— that "we had hoped"—also dead? With Mary and the disciples, we gaze on the empty space in the wake of the cross, and we know the dying of our hopes, of the ways in which all of our plans and expectations go to the cross with Jesus. Our history, our world, hangs in that balance. As director, how often have I sat with people who, in the wake of Jesus' death and burial, have to encounter again their own history of violence—received, experienced in others, commit-ted! The call to attentiveness in this space where our wounded history is made so evident places the past and the future in the balance. If in the first movement with Jesus and Mary we know the fear before death, in this second movement perhaps we face the fear of living in a world mediated by violence, a violence that we can usually hold at bay or ignore by switching the televi-sion channel. Yet, in this transition place, we face the brokenness and "poured-out" quality of our world, and we hear the call not to stronger forms of violence or retribution but to attend in that quiet space and know the fullness of a hope that might have died too. So many people live in this space. It is not theoretical. So, for me, the power of Stravinsky's piece, build-ing to that awful crescendo, that cacophony of death, followed by nothing, silence, lies in wanting some reso- 71.1 2012 41 lution other than the sacrifice. He captures well what those first disciples must have been going through on their "seventh day," after the terrible dramatics of human violence, cruelty, power; now Mary and the others know an empty silence made all the more desolate by what had come before. Building better plans, creating monu-ments, assigning guilt or blame—all of these would have tempered the grief. Instead, we hear the invitation to silence, to attentiveness. It may be that real forgiveness, hope, and resurrection can occur only in such silence. Ignatius places us before those realities that so easily move us away from attentiveness—fear of death and fear of violence or rejection—as a space within which some-thing very different—freedom—can arise. This experience could well represent a kind of "downer" for us, but need it be so? The sense of the deaths we experience—whether the physical death that Jesus freely embraces or the death of our illusions about the world and our patterns of dealing with it—create, as it were, a wasteland, an emptiness before which we stand and pray with Mary and the disciples. Its all-encompassing nature seeks to enlarge our freedom by placing before us our fears. Facing the wasteland yields fruit not in darkness or desolation (though we do indeed pass through these) but, as Antonio Valentino noted in a Directory written in the first generation after the death of Ignatius, aims at perfection in prayer and work, holding always God before one's eyes with gentleness and consistency, and remembering God whenever we think, speak or act.7 If we are moving toward the Contemplatio here as a mode of engaging the world, then this transition that "clears the ground" can yield an abundant harvest. We are left waiting for God's action—not ours. Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 42 I do not use the imagery of "clearing ground" acci-dentally. I find myself touched by the way in which one deals with one sweep of contemplation, which clears, seeds, and bears fruit in ever deeper ways. Think through with me the extraordinary introduction to the Fourth Week that piggybacks on what we have seen. As Cusson mentions, when Ignatius presents the medita-tion on the first resurrection appearance (SpEx §299), he offers a first point, nothing else; the simplicity of the perspective shines through: "He appeared to the Virgin Mary." Ignatius sees no need for second or third points, as are given in all the other meditations. It is a unique tableau.8 Ignatius does complete the sweep from where we have been: His soul, likewise united with the divinity, descended into hell. There he sets free the souls of the just, then comes to the sepulcher, and rising appears in body and soul to His Blessed Mother (SpEx §219). We have before us the same matter as in the con-templations on "the seventh day" of the Third Week; the setting does not change. What happens arises from within where we find ourselves as we attend to the empty space at the end of the Third Week. Our entry into the Fourth Week comes not because we will our-selves to joy. Rather, in the space that death and vio-lence have laid waste, Resurrection dawns like light and, with it, love, joy, and hope as the fruit. We do not change spaces for Resurrection, for the Fourth Week; rather, we extend the Third until it bears fruit. As director, I cannot overemphasize how hard it is to keep people focused at this point; exhaustion has set in. The Fourth Week regularly gets short shrift, as does Resurrection in so much of Christian life; yet, as I pray with the transition from Third to Fourth Week, I 71.1 2012 43 realize how crucial that transition point is to our ability to be in and to serve a broken but risen world. Ignatius leads us to the "hell" which Jesus has entered freely and fully, with all those who have gone before—and with us eventually—and then moves to Mary, in her home and oratory, exactly the order that repeats the end of the Third Week. I would like to move in three points—Jesus' apparition to Mary, Jesus' rising "from the dead," and the gift of joy to a world that killed and can kill still. They are related, but quite distinct too. Think of how redolent Jesus' apparition is for Mary. Ignatius does not describe it much, except for a clear allusion. He asks us to "see the arrangement of . . . the place or house of our Lady. I will note its different parts, and also her room, her ora-tory, etc." (SpEx §220). In §103 we were asked "especially to see the house and room of our Lady." The parallelism is almost exact, and, of course, David Fleming in Like the Lightning alludes to the Annunciation contemplation.9 This is not pious drivel, as some are tempted to say; this really is a new Annunciation, but one that asks Mary—and us—to go on mission for the Trinity with the Risen Lord. After all the Sturm und Drang of the Third Week— the drama of our human violence and blood-lust, even the drama of the Last Supper that begins the Third This really is a new Annunciation, but one that asks Mary—and us— to go on mission for the Trinity with the Risen Lord. Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 44 Week—this dawn of the Fourth Week, of a new world, is so undra-matic. Mel Gibson would have a difficult time with it. We would be tempted to make it dramatic, and certainly the Miraflores altar-piece does so, with Jesus showing his wounds and with Mary por-trayed as quite the medieval lady. Ignatius's description, though, is so different. Certainly, as he notes in the fourth point, the "divinity here manifests itself so miraculously," though in the fifth point the man-ifestation is as the consoler, the one who brings joy in the glory of the Resurrection. What are we to make of the apparition as "con-soler"? By the way, Ignatius gives only this contemplation in the Fourth Week, though we find a number of other texts arranged from §299-312 (in the section on the Mysteries of Christ's Life), with an ever wider circle of people let in on the Resurrection. In the Fourth Week itself, one contemplation alone pre-cedes the Contemplatio, again with Mary. If we take a step back, Mary represents the free per-son who has tasted the fullness of the passage of Jesus, both into death and at the hands of a broken, murderous world. If the darkness that John evokes in the Gospel stands as a hallmark of the Passion, Mary knows that darkness fully. As we wait with her, we hear the invita-tion to know that darkness, to let our own hopes and dreams die, to recognize the fullness of what death, as God-forsakenness, means. Mary roots us in a barren 71.1 2012 45 landscape without familiar landmarks. Stark—not dra-matic. Quiet. As long as we cling to our own artifacts, the land remains cluttered, and we are unable to receive. In essence, Mary descends into a kind of hell as well, the fullness of the First Week's hell, which is not of her doing, but which is the fruit of the world we have created. The more I ponder and pray with these texts, however, the more they strike me as a new "Incarnation," but with a different order and intent. In the Incarnation medita-tion, we move from the work of God, who ponders the broken, murderous world and chooses to enter it, invit-ing Mary—and us—to share in the work of the Trinity here now. With Mary we have been placed in a God-less world, the fullness of hell. We gaze, we ponder with her, in the freedom of those who have elected to follow Jesus. Mary—and we—know what God's heart would have felt in the acute desire to set people free. We now move from the order of "this world" to an encounter with the Trinity as we know the fullness of the desire of the Trinity in the Incarnation prayer, now effected by the Risen Lord. Again, I want to stress the point: Ignatius places us with Mary as the archetype of the person of the Exercises, the free person. While in later contempla-tions we are indeed shown the rest of the Gospel story, here he asks us to share in the fullness of what freedom The Apparition to Mary Reverses the order of the Incarnation meditation From the Trinity To a Broken World To revelation of the Trinity From a Broken World Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 46 means, freedom at the intersection of our engagement with a broken world, and we wonder at the dawning of a world shot through with Resurrection. The transition of this time represents not a movement from Third Week to Fourth Week, as if we could leave the former behind as just a bad memory; rather, the transition is the on-going space of discipleship. We, like Mary, remain in a broken world, but the transition into the Fourth Week recasts the meaning of the world in a dramatic way, so that we can accept the call to serve a world still broken. Contemplation constitutes the basic hallmark of this freedom; the encounter with the Risen Lord that Ignatius sketches out occurs as an offer of new life in the midst of the contemplation of the fullness of death and sinful violence. These two elements of death and life form a diptych, as it were, for our lives and our prayer. We encounter here not merely the Risen Lord but, with Mary, the pattern of what we shall know as we await that ultimate coming of Christ to the world, and we receive a mission to act upon hope. Into that space, the risen Lord comes, not just as resuscitated—"I'm back"—but as a living proclamation of a new world, God's plan for the ultimate healing and completion of the world God so loves. From the broken world, we encounter the divinity made flesh again for us, but now glorified and risen. If Christ performs "the office of the consoler," as Ignatius says, this consolation does not simply cause a "feeling good" or even a happi-ness, but a revelation of a new world and the empower-ing invitation to dwell in that new world and extend it through time and space. That power is "joy." Joy in this case is not an affect, or even a spiri-tual movement, for Ignatius. In fact, he distinguishes between the two realities: 71.1 2012 47 as soon as I awake [I will] place before my mind the contemplation I am to enter upon, and then . . . strive to feel joy and happiness at the great joy and happi-ness of Christ our Lord (SpEx §229). Happiness we know as an affective movement, a passing reality; we feel happy when we experience cer-tain realities. We can know happiness but still be alien to joy, since happiness comes and goes, depending on the experience we feel. Happiness has an object, and in this case Ignatius does want us to evoke within ourselves the experience of happiness; the encounter becomes the cause of our happiness. Joy, however, pertains to a very different reality. Joy—and this is Christ's joy, of course, a gift of the Holy Spirit—intends not a movement of the heart, a feel-ing, but a disposition, a way of being; it is the hallmark of those who have encountered the risen Lord in the midst of surrounding darkness. Joy makes possible the freedom to go on mission into the Fourth Week—our ordinary time. That light dawns in the Resurrection, not apart from but in the midst of the darkness which Mary—and we—have known. G.K. Chesterton's lament about "joyless Christians" captures something very important here: Christianity satisfies suddenly and perfectly man's [sic] ancestral instinct for being the right way up; satisfies it supremely in this; that by its creed joy becomes something gigantic and sadness something special and small. The vault above us is not deaf because the universe is an idiot; the silence is not the heartless silence of an endless and aimless world.10 The joy we experience in the presence of the Risen Lord does not suddenly wipe away the reality of the grief we know at the experience of the brokenness of Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 48 the world and its impact on the vulnerable; rather, such joy places it all in context, allows us to see the world as it is, in the context of God's proclamation of new life and hope in Christ. The way Ignatius ends the Exercises with Mary and this twofold contempla-tion seems to suggest that this joy becomes our "new normal," what God intended in creation and effects through the Incarnation, ministry, and Passover of the Word. We often emphasize the continuity/discontinuity of the Risen Jesus; he is like but different. But is it not really also the world which is continuous/discontinu-ous? In a great line from "Lion in Winter," Eleanor of Aquitaine says, "In a world where carpenters get resur-rected, everything is possible." Exactly—and such is our hope and the cause of our joy. As contemplatives moved to action, we in the Ignatian tradition live in the intersection of the two parts of the diptych, of Holy Saturday and Easter, but with joy as the hinge, something into which we grow. The encounter with the Risen Lord in the midst of a broken world becomes the reality of our lives and a point of conversion into this "new world." In that respect, we are unlike Mary but more like the others who encounter the Lord in a gradual way, but who nevertheless grow into a joyful engagement with the world. However, we can-not separate this encounter from the work which serves life and just peace; we grow in joy and hope only if we place ourselves at the service of justice, as it were, as the thirty-second General Congregation of the Society of Jesus suggested. Yet, we are no longer simply disciples, but apostles, those sent as the Word was sent into the world, but now into a world transformed. This "new normal," a joyful realm, disorients in many ways. Please excuse me as I take a bit of a detour 71.1 2012 49 into a Byzantine theme, that of the "Harrowing of Hell," an ancient icon in the East that depicts a scene sketched by a homily from the second century. I ask you to pon-der it with me for just a few moments. We have here one particu-lar rendition of the icon, but a powerful one with three signifi-cant movements. One of these captures the Contemplation for the Fourth Week as given by Ignatius, namely that the Risen Lord sets free the souls of the just held bound before Christ's Resurrection. For Balthasar and oth-ers, this moment of encounter with the Risen Lord has become the deciding moment for them, the one in which heaven—and the second death—actually open. In that sense, we have a key moment of election again, a confirmation to "fol-low" but now in a different way—to eternal life for them. Yet this Risen Lord calls us to proclaim eternal life and freedom in this world. Second, and this evokes the reality of La Storta, the risen Christ carries the cross, but as a tool through which to break open the gates of Sheol. This Christ on mission invites us to the imagery of the Third Week, but now as a call to freedom, not to death or destruction. The order of the world is profoundly inverted here, and violence gives way to freedom. No wonder the thirty- Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 50 second General Congregation could so freely embrace being "under the banner of the cross" as a mode of identification. This rising Christ changes all the imag-ery of violence, death, and hopelessness we would have taken for granted. One finds joy even in the cross—how odd—but, again, joy is not simply a moment of happi-ness but a consistent mode of being. Again, we cannot separate encounter with the Risen Lord from presence to those who know Holy Saturday and its pain or loss of hope. Last, though, for the East—and for Ignatius, I think—the implications of this little icon and of the work of Christ show free-dom in an even bolder way. A second-century homily proclaims, "I did not create you to be held captive," as does the Office of Readings every Holy Saturday. Do we ponder, though, the implications of that little line, the heart of the link between the Third and Fourth Weeks? The dynamic of the Third Week—from the human point of view—reveals the inevitability of betrayal, duplicity, shame, violence, grief, blood-lust. Not an appetizing menu, to be sure. Ignatius would ask us to contemplate the recreated world in which such patterns have lost their power forever, not just for a moment; we know their power, but as something that has passed away, both from the world and from our lives. If a counterpart to the contemplation on the Incarnation in the Second Week is the Two Standards meditation, perhaps this "diptych" does something Joy is not simply a moment of happiness but a consistent mode of being. 71.1 2012 51 similar. In the Two Standards meditation, Satan calls his demons and "goads them on to lay snares for people and bind them with chains" (SpEx §142). Christ bids, attracts, graces, to a very different world, of poverty, bearing insult and humiliation freely as a means of free-dom (SpEx §146). We have seen that first standard lived to its full-est in the Third Week; now we see Christ who in his revealed divinity, as the fullness of the revelation of the Trinity, continues to serve, to free, to attract, to bid, but now as having conquered all freely and lovingly. Do we not know here the prospect of a whole new world unbound or in the process of unbinding, a process to which Christ missions us? Does Christ not call us in this contemplation with Mary to gather companions in the work of dwelling in this contemplative yet active space? The full import of what has been "the normal" becomes ever clearer to us, even as we enter more fully into com-panionship with Mary in this contemplation. The chal-lenge to us, however, never degenerates into hopeless self-scrutinizing or, even worse, scrupulosity. We do not get forced back into contemplating our sins, as too often happens when people gaze upon the cross, or into the violent guilt or shame of the Third Week. Rather, aware of the Third Week and its full impact on the one whom we love and on the world Christ so loves, we hear the invitation to explore contemplatively a dawning world, one which opens, I think, to the Contemplatio and to our role in extending Christ's joy. James Alison, the British Catholic theologian, has written movingly on this, inviting us to consider how our cultures shape our imaginations through the pat-terns of interaction—rivalistic patterns—which for us constitute "the normal." In Christ, and I think in Mary Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 52 and the disciples, God gives us a dramatically differ-ent pattern of interaction, one that creates relationships touched by joy, not by violence or rivalry or fear. In the complementary contemplations we are given through-out the Fourth Week, we encounter many such persons, wounded in and by the Third Week, even agents of the violence of the Third Week, with whom and in whom we now encounter the pattern of joy and hope. These reflections lead me to ponder the meaning of the "Rules for Thinking with the Church" (SpEx §352-370). They are usually given as a form of Counter- Reformation ecclesiology, a guide on how to engage the debates of the mid-sixteenth century. The text contains all kinds of very context-specific allusions—echoes of debates on predestination, sacraments, authority, and the like that helped tear the church apart. We realize that the inability to attend to what the other was saying represented but one more kind of violence in an already violent age. Ignatius, of course, never had shied away from a fight. One has only to remember how ready he was to dispatch the Moor who had shown insufficient defer-ence to the Blessed Virgin, his Lady. He certainly would not be the first choice as a poster boy for pacifism. Yet, think with me for a moment about the Rules, written at a time when everyone wanted a good fight and looked, all too often, for occasions to pick a fight or score a point. Ignatius's presentation strikes me as curious in that regard, strangely pacific, to use Alison's invitation to a radically different imagination, a con-version of imagination, where our normal expectation is no longer violence or the violent god but rather of a world ordered to and by peaceful relationships. We find here none of the grand drama of the instructions to 71.1 2012 53 the Cardinal Legates to the various Diets and Councils. Instead, we find a man desperate to preserve the unity of the community, to avoid the kinds of clashes that mark his age. Perhaps when we look at the Rules for Thinking with the Church, the metaphor that I have been using— of having had the earth scorched around us and entering a new world—could be helpful. We tend to bring with us the imagery and imagination to which we have grown accustomed. We bring the patterns of guilt or shame or blame or grief or violence that we have learned only too well from the world we have known as normal. Yet, the totality of the presence of the Risen Christ to Mary— and to us—challenges any return to those spaces to which we have grown accustomed. Certainly, if Christ has "harrowed hell" and broken dominant patterns, we are in need of "a way," of his way. Might not the Rules for Thinking with the Church be Ignatius's way of inviting us to turn from the slavish obedience so alien to the freedom of the Fourth Week and to become attentive to the community of people elected in grace, graced by Risen Life, empowered by saints, who could sketch out for us and for our imagi-nation a path with and to Christ? We stand in need of a community of faith, the Church militant in the original Spanish text, which can model for us the new life revealed in and through the Risen Lord. While the Rules invite a kind of docility in seeking a way of peace and renewal of imagination found in the community of the faithful, they do not require checking one's mind at the door. At times we can, like Ignatius, grieve because of a church that shows the marks of the violence and domination of those who killed the Lord. Nevertheless we wait in the hope of encountering Christ in this com- Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 54 munity, in the Holy Saturday-Easter Sunday diptych, still confident that we will contemplatively learn a way forward, not in spite of but in the pain. In a similar way, Ignatius needed the community to foster conversion out of scruples and into Christ. Still, a real encounter as is experienced in the tran-sition opens a path to community. Rooted in a new experience of the world, it is a community of peace, joy, hope, creativity. This, of course, has none of the "grand drama" of the Third Week that would thrill Mel Gibson, but it has the quiet quality of a son meeting a grieving mother who has been wounded by violence but, in joy, is experiencing the possibility of new life, the opening of heart and imagination. Quiet, not dramatic in the ways we are used to, but nonetheless a powerful and creative stance. The difference between the drama at the end of the Third Week and the quiet dawn of the Fourth invites us to know in its fullness what the Two Standards means and what Christ offers: not a crusade of our own, but an allowing of new possibilities to dawn in our age. We have seen such dawns, and their ecclesial power touches deeply. I think of Jean Vanier's L'Arche com-munity embracing the handicapped, those rejected by the world. There is the hospice movement, which rose from Dame Cecily Saunders's refusal to allow cancer patients for whom medical drama could do no more to simply go away and die. Those who serve refugees and bring a moment of tenderness and hope to fragile lives similarly stand at the confluence of this Paschal diptych. Easier, I suppose, would be to follow the temptation to take up arms and fight back or condemn, but we are invited to a very different path, not of moralism but of an embrace like that of Mary by her Son. 71.1 2012 55 We began this talk with Stravinsky's musical image of primal humanity and its lust for sacrifice, a lust that seeks "salvation for the people" in a woman condemned to die by dancing madly. The music crashes to a dra-matic conclusion followed by silence. I would like to end with a different dance, one described by Sydney Carter's words applied to the Shaker hymn "Simple Gifts," here the "Lord of the Dance." Perhaps this could evoke something of the transition to a dance that is joyous, inclusive, expansive. May this be our prayer and our path. I danced on a Friday when the sky turned black— It's hard to dance with the devil on your back. They buried my body, and they thought I'd gone, But I am the Dance, and I still go on. Dance, then, wherever you may be, I am the Lord of the Dance, said he, And I'll lead you all, wherever you may be, And I'll lead you all in the Dance, said he. They cut me down and I leapt up high; I am the life that'll never, never die; I'll live in you if you'll live in me— I am the Lord of the Dance, said he. Dance, then, wherever you may be, I am the Lord of the Dance, said he, And I'll lead you all, wherever you may be, And I'll lead you all in the Dance, said he. Notes 1 Gilles Cusson, Biblical Theology and the Spiritual Exercises (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1988), p. 299. 2 Cusson, p. 303. Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 56 3 Hans Urs von Balthasar, Mysterium Paschale: The Mystery of Easter (Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B. Eerdmans, 1990), p. 168. 4 von Balthasar, p 169. 5 John English, Spiritual Freedom: From an Expertience of the Ignatian Exercises to the Art of Spiritual Direction (Guelph: Loyola House, 1973), p. 247. 6 Mary Oliver, Thirst (Boston: Beacon Press), p. 52. 7 Martin E. Palmer, S.J., On Giving the Spiritual Exercises: The Early Jesuit Manuscript Directories and the Official Directory of 1599 (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1996), p. 79. 8 Cusson, p. 303. 9 David L. Fleming, Like the Lightning: The Dynamics of the Ignatian Exercises (St Louis, Institute of Jesuit Sources, 2004), p. 77. 10 Gilbert K. Chesterton, Othodoxy (Garden City, NY: Image Books, 1959), p. 160. Questions for Reflection 1. Where have I embraced the emptiness of death and how has it enabled me to experience the joy of the Risen Lord? 2. Do you have any favorite music, artwork, or poetry that helps you enter into the sacred silence discussed in this article—or that helps you understand other moments in the Spiritual Exercises or in the Gospels? 71.1 2012 57 Dolor 5: At the Foot of the Cross Giving birth is contracting to sleep with death. It is an agreement to pass on everything that has been fed, fondled, fiercely treasured, looked forward to as one looks for the first hibiscus every spring. It is a signature and seal in pledge that one will leave someone something. It holds the possibility—tormenting as tarantula's tricks— that the loved child may pass first, cursedly, of illness, mishap, quick step in the wrong place, by fate or by murderous hatred heaped upon the great. The blood and wash of afterbirth foretell that every holding close lets loose. Small fingers, small toes enlarge as mothering bellies pull back to size and shape. Flowerings green up. They will, they must, brown down with wintering. And every footfall tells an end to every earthly good, each breath started with a slap, each name begun so well that slips into what's next. Pamela Smith sscm Review for Religious 58 peter j. schineller Finding or Seeking God in All Things: A Few Cautionary Notes "T o find God in all things" is a commonplace of Ignatian spirituality. Books and essays on Ignatius and Jesuit spirituality have highlighted the phrase as a hallmark of that spirituality. However, in an essay entitled "The Ignatian Charism and Contemporary Theology," the late Cardinal Avery Dulles wrote that "to the best of my knowledge the expression 'finding God in all things,' does not appear verbatim in the writ-ings of St. Ignatius."1 He admits that we do find "similar expressions" in the writings of Ignatius, and adds that "it seems evident that God can be found in all things." Dulles's observation makes me wonder and leads me to the unanswerable question of whether Ignatius deliberately avoided the phrase "find God in all things." Ignatius does write in many places that we should seek Peter J. Schineller sj is the archivist for the New York Province of the Society of Jesus. He resides at America House, 106 West 56th Street, New York, NY 10019. 59 71.1 2012 and serve God in all things; but, as we will see, except for one place, he does not use the phrase "find God in all things." Jerome Nadal, one of the early companions of Ignatius, clearly believed that Ignatius had the gift or charism to "feel the presence of God" and that this experience should likewise characterize Ignatius's fol-lowers. He writes: "I shall not fail to recall that grace which he had in all circumstances, while at work or in conversation, of feeling the presence of God and of tasting spiritual things, of being contemplative even in the midst of action: he used to interpret this as seeking God in all things."2 Note well that Nadal says Ignatius interpreted this experience as seeking God in all things. So too, Pedro Ribadeneira, also an early compan-ion of Ignatius, reports that "we frequently saw him taking the occasion of little things to lift his mind to God, who even in the smallest things is great. From seeing a plant, foliage, a leaf, a flower, any fruit, from the consideration of a little worm or any other animal, he raised himself above the heavens and penetrated the deepest thought."3 And, in the Autobiography of Ignatius, Luis da Camara, who wrote down the words of Ignatius, states: "At whatever time or hour he wanted to find God, he found Him."4 (To be precise, da Camara says that Ignatius could find God at all times, not that he found God in all things.) So we ask: might there be some wis-dom or insight—or caution—in the fact that Ignatius only once uses the phrase "find God in all things"? The Sole Text and Its Context In the long letter to Antonio Brandão subtitled "Instructions given by our father Ignatius, or at his Review for Religious Schineller • Finding or Seeking God in All Things 60 direction . . ." we read the advice given to scholastics: "the scholastics cannot engage in long meditations . . . they can practice seeking the presence of our Lord in all things; in their dealings with other people, their walking, seeing, tasting, hearing, understanding, and all our activities. For his Divine Majesty truly is in every-thing by his presence, power, and essence. This kind of meditation—finding God our Lord in everything—is easier than lifting ourselves up and laboriously making ourselves present to more abstracted divine realities."5 Again, a caution. This letter was not written by Ignatius, but at his direction by Juan de Polanco. Further, before he says "finding God in everything," he says the scholastics must "practice seeking the presence of our Lord in all things." Finding that presence is not auto-matic— and, perhaps, not so easy as we might think! In the Constitutions of the Society of Jesus, we read that Jesuit novices "should often be exhorted to seek God our Lord in all things . . . loving him in all crea-tures and all creatures in him" [§288]. Again, we see emphasis on the element of search. So too, in the Contemplation to Attain Love in the Spiritual Exercises, we read: "Here it will be to ask for an intimate knowledge of the many blessings received, that filled with gratitude for all, I may in all things love and serve the Divine Majesty" [SpEx §233]. Ignatius wants the retreatants to love and serve God in all; he does not write that they are to find God in all things. I wonder if the rea-son might be that Ignatius wishes to safeguard the Divine Majesty, the ever-greater God. Might it be that he fears that we will believe that we can capture or contain or iden-tify the ever-greater God in any one thing or in all things? In addition to frequently encouraging that we seek or serve God in all things, Ignatius does say that we 71.1 2012 61 can and must "find the will of God." Thus the Spiritual Exercises are a way of preparing the soul to rid itself of attachments and "of seeking and finding the will of God in the disposition of our life for the salvation of our soul" [SpEx §1]. And Ignatius most frequently ends his letters praying for the grace to "know God's most holy will and per-fectly fulfill it." Or, "may God in his goodness give us his abundant grace to know his most holy will and entirely to fulfill it." Even as Ignatius urges us to seek and find the will of God, he emphasizes the method and the search. He never claims that seeking and finding the will of God is easily done. It demands prayer, reflection, seeking, mortification, time, and effort. Today's Background, Context, Horizon In an obvious oversimplification, we might say that in our age we find two extreme tendencies: 1) the skepti-cal, secular way of underbelief and 2) the less critical way of overbelief. These correspond to two rival "isms" in our globalized world, spoken of by Fr. Adolfo Nicolás, supe-rior general of the Society of Jesus, in a major address on higher education: 1) an aggressive secularism and 2) a resurgence of various fundamentalisms.6 We might look at the cautious and critical way of Ignatius in light of these two tendencies. 1. The skeptical and secular viewpoint. Many today, including Christians, experience the distance, absence, Seeking and finding the will of God demands prayer, reflection, seeking, mortification, time, and effort. Review for Religious Schineller • Finding or Seeking God in All Things 62 or otherness of God. Rather than finding God in all things, they do not find God anywhere in their experi-ence. Or God is edged out by many possibilities, alter-natives, and options, by many "things" that are not God. They live in a world come of age that no longer "needs" God and are skeptical of those who find, describe, and talk of God so easily. They are critical of claims or interpretations that seem to make God into one thing among many. This objectification of God, they find, entails a loss of God's otherness and transcendence. 2. The less critical fundamentalism or overbelief. At the other extreme are the many believers who see God at work in every event. God is close and at hand. Some Christians seem to think they have a lock on God, clearly grasping and knowing the divine intentions and will for the world and for humankind. Statements to that effect indicate a temptation to reduce God to our size, to capture and lay hold of God. In a general way, two of today's thinkers reflect these two tendencies. The first is the critic George Steiner. In My Unwritten Books, a sequel to his book Real Presences, which points us to various signs of the transcendent, Steiner writes that he feels strongly the absence of God—a powerful experience of emptiness. "Awesome is the God who is not. . . . I strive to be with His sovereign absence."7 Steiner finds himself groping for and seeking God more than believing in and finding God. He adds that to be great, literature need not believe in or affirm God, but at least must grapple with the question of God, the search and debate over the reality of God. From an explicit Christian perspective, we might also listen to James Gustafson. In an article entitled "The Denial of God as God,"8 Gustafson writes that "the history of our religion is the history of human 71.1 2012 63 attempts to manage and manipulate the awesome power of God, who is finally beyond our capacities to know fully, to capture in human thoughts and deeds. . . . It is the history of efforts to control the times and places of his presence." Gustafson asserts that we overlook this awesome reality of God: "how we want a God we can manage, a God who comes when we beckon him, a God who permits us to say that he is here, but not there; a God who meets our needs on our terms; a God who supports our moral causes and destroys the forces we think are evil; a household God and a kitchen God." Then, drawing from the thought of Martin Luther, he challenges us not to try to manipulate or reduce God, but to "let God be God." Ignatius's Balance Surely Ignatius is not guilty of this reduction or denial of God. He had a strong sense of the immen-sity and majesty of God (he loved stargazing), as well as the closeness of God (recall his meditation on the Incarnation and birth of Jesus Christ in the Spiritual Exercises [§101-117]). But can this be said of all his followers? Might some be at times guilty of oversimpli-fying, reducing, identifying God with their own prefer-ences and thus not "letting God be God"? To put this more boldly; if we think it easy and pos-sible to find God in all things, might we end up by not finding the true God—the transcendent God—in or above any things? Emphasizing the finding of God in all things could become misleading and wrongheaded because it misses or misinterprets the special presence of God in some particular times, places, events, and things. Might this approach be similar to the positive emphasis on the generous and widespread presence and Review for Religious Schineller • Finding or Seeking God in All Things 64 offering of God's grace to all persons. If that view, good in itself, is pushed to the extreme, if all is grace, then we no longer distinguish between grace and non-grace, between grace and nature. Or, if all ground is seen as holy ground, then we might overlook or undercut the special presence or intervention, the special rev-elation of God. If we hold that everything i s sacred and noth-ing is profane or secular, then we could also hold the reverse, that nothing is sacred. Ultimately, it seems important and necessary that we maintain the distinction (not separation) of sacred and secular, of grace and nature, of the God who is in all things and yet above all things. Ignatius also writes of one other thing that Jesuits should seek in all things—namely, greater abnegation and continual mortification! "The better to arrive at this degree of perfection which is so precious in the spiritual life, [the] chief and most earnest endeavor [of the Jesuit candidate and those in formation] should be to seek in our Lord his greater abnegation and continual mortifica-tion in all things possible; and our endeavor should be to help him in those things to the extent that our Lord gives us his grace, for his greater praise and glory" [General Examen of the Constitutions of the Society of Jesus, §103]. While the seeking of mortification does not pre- If we think it easy and possible to find God in all things, might we end up by not finding the true God— the transcendent God— in or above any things? 71.1 2012 65 clude the effort to seek, find, and serve God in all things, surely it derives from a very different, and more sober perspective. It offers a balance to an overly posi-tive, totally one-sided incarnational spirituality. Ignatius is reminding us that the God or Christ that we seek and serve in all things is the Christ of the cross (abnega-tion and mortification) as well as the Christ of glory who comes with power. Thus Ignatius can write regard-ing the qualifications of the rector of a college, that he should "be a man of great example, edification and mortification of all his evil inclinations" [Constitutions, §423]. The ideal superior is one who both practices mortification and seeks to find God in all things! Living with and Maintaining the Tension Deus Semper Major—God Ever Greater—is the title of the monumental work of Erich Pryzwara sj on Ignatius of Loyola.9 The God of Ignatius, the God we seek, find, love, and serve is ever greater, always more. God is in all, but also always above all. Ignatius had the ability to keep seemingly opposing tensions or ten-dencies in view—prayer and action, contemplation and action, the local and the universal, trust in God and trust in our talents and efforts, and obedience and free-dom. In these reflections we are pointing to 1) the ten-sion between the God in all things, and the God above all things and 2) the possible tension between seeking God in all things, and finding God in all things. It seems best and most creative to hold on to both elements of these two tensions and not eliminate one or the other. In one tension we hold that God is in and also above all things: incarnate, indwelling, working in the world, and yet, in keeping with the fourth part of the Contemplation to Attain the Love of God, above Review for Religious Schineller • Finding or Seeking God in All Things 66 and beyond, the source of all. In the second tension, we maintain both the seeking for and the finding of God. St. Augustine writes that we would not seek God unless we had already found (and been found by) God. So I am simply suggesting that rather than conflate the two, or eliminate one or the other, we place a bit more emphasis on the seeking and searching, and less on the finding, in accord with Deut. 4:29: "from there you will seek the Lord your God, and you will find him if you search after him with all your heart and soul." A Caution and a Challenge Does this mean we should not use the phrase "find-ing God in all things"? No. It is in common use and does reflect the way Ignatius was interpreted by his contem-poraries even if Ignatius was normally reticent in using it. At the same time, we should use the words carefully and with awe, recalling that God is always greater and beyond. We dare not think we have captured God. We can preserve and use "finding God in all things" if we emphasize the search, the process, the prayerful effort of trying to find God in places and events around us. Two final cautions: Meister Eckhart said that "Foolish people deem that they should look upon God as though he stood there and they here. It is not thus." God is ever greater, ever here, and ever beyond. We might recall, too, the words of Fr. John Courtney Murray when he saw a poster to be used at a demonstration. Expressing the spirit of the times and a commitment to faith and justice, the poster read: "God Is Other People!" Murray is reported to have said "They forgot the comma after the word 'other.' It should read: 'God is Other, People!' " Probably the strongest challenge now is to seek and find God in the cities, in the world of technology and 71.1 2012 67 computers. We should not seek to find God only in sun-sets and stars and in the least of the sisters and broth-ers, but also amid skyscrapers and elevators, amid steel and concrete buildings, amid asphalt streets, on subways and in airplanes—wherever God seems to be edged out, overlooked, or denied. If the challenge seems daunting, we might be consoled by the words St. Augustine attri-butes to God: "you would not search for me unless you had already found me." And, we might add, we would not search for God "unless God had already found us." Notes 1 Avery Dulles sj, "The Ignatian Charism and Contemporary Theology." America (26 April 1997): 16. 2 Monumenta Historica Societatis Iesu, Mon. Nadal, iv, 651. 3 Monumenta Historica Societatis Iesu, Vita Ignatii Loyolae, in Fontes Narrativi, iv, 742. 4 Ignatius of Loyola, Autobiography, §99. 5 Ignatius of Loyola: Letters and Instructions, (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 2006), p. 342. 6 Adolfo Nicolás sj, "Challenges to Jesuit Higher Education Today." Conversations on Jesuit Higher Education 40 (Fall 2011): 9. 7 George Steiner, My Unwritten Books, (New York: New Directions Books, 2008), p. 209. 8 James Gustafson, "The Denial of God as God." Criterion (Autumn 1977): 6-9. 9 Erich Przywara sj, Deus Semper Major: Theologie der Exercitien (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 1940). Review for Religious 68 In Distressing Disguise for Agnes Gonxha Bejaxhiu he's a lonely old man dandruff dusts his faded black shirt some polyester blend shiny, holding odors of sweat and cigarettes and left-overs some of which remains on the front of his trousers the purple around his neck shabby, soiled, worn-out even burned a little in one place careless as he is with his smokes over my head his palsied hand trembles and to my ears come mumbled words of grace while my heart strains to see Him, to see His true face, here before me in distressing disguise. Sean Kinsella Winter Sunset At exactly five-fifteen p.m. the over-ripe sun paused a second on the town's rim, all the horizon's color sealed in its neon pulp. I could hardly stop gazing, sure it would burst and spill red-orange juice, winter's redemptive blood, across the Western sky. Patricia Schnapp rsm The Warmth, the Will, and the Way The dilemma is that I am not making very steady progress on my spiritual journey. This leads me to think that I need more consistency. Since I already live "a stable way of life" as a member of a religious order, my basic direc-tion is set. I see that this way of life is leading me where the deepest currents of my heart want me to go. But despite that general clar-ity of direction, I find myself dawdling along, sometimes going backwards, often wandering off to explore some curiosity, rarely totally focused on the path, much less on the goal, of this particular journey on which the Way is also the End. We often pray that the Holy Spirit will fill our hearts and "enkindle in them the fire" of 71.1 2012 sharing experi-ence 69 ben harrison Ben Harrison mc is a Missionaries of Charity Brother. He has worked in formation and has journeyed, in the U.S. and Europe, alongside homeless people, prisoners, addicts, and other people on the margins of society. His email is . Review for Religious Harrison • The Warmth, the Will, and the Way 70 his love. Once on a retreat I was complaining to the director that I didn't feel any sense of God's presence, and he assured me that I wouldn't be feeling the absence if there weren't a kind of presence; the longing itself was a sign of the Spirit's presence. If I could welcome that longing as a warming presence rather than endure it as a chilling absence, it would help to enkindle the fire of his love. When I speak of this warmth of heart I am not talk-ing about seeking emotional experiences in prayer but rather of finding that sense of inner presence that is so important in the prayer of Eastern Christianity. My mind and the actions it inspires range all over the place, but if I am attentive to that warmth in my heart, the inner pres-ence not only influences my thoughts and feelings but also anchors my actions and desires. This sense of warmth, then, helps me to be more consistent on my spiritual way. I frequently have very good insights, and for a long time I thought that they could keep me centered. I often thought, "Oh, what a brilliant idea! If I can only remember that every day, I will be set for life." And so I would make a note and stick it on the door, or I would write a prayer and say it every morning, until it became so routine that what I was saying didn't even register. Soon I would have another brilliant insight with life-changing potential. Such thoughts are like matches that provide real fire, but only for a few minutes. Then, unless the match is touched to a candle or to a heap of kindling, it is spent. I need something more reliable than insights. I need something more reliable than insights. 71.1 2012 71 Perhaps the secret is to do what would be done in a cottage in the woods: continually add fuel to the fire, a log at a time, to keep it burning. Then, late at night, bank the coals, rake them together in a little pile so that the heat will not dissipate. A few glowing embers will remain in the morning, upon which new kindling can be placed and fresh wood arranged so all is ready to warm the beginnings of the new day. That way the hearth never grows cold. I am discovering that this warmth of heart is a sign of the Spirit's presence with me, abiding in me, direct-ing me toward the goal. But there is something else that seems to be essential in order to deepen that presence and strengthen God's claim on me—what I would call will. The desire is there: the forward impulse, the yearn-ing for the heights, the longing to surrender my being to the One Who Is. What is the difference between this desire and will? To wish for something is to entertain a desire for it; to want it is to own that desire; to will it is to act on that desire, to put it into operation. Will has about it an element of determination. And it is not something I can drum up within myself. It has to be given. St. Paul says, "work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for God is at work in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure" (Phil 2:12-13). Will and the Vows As I think about my vocation, I would say that my will is expressed, above all, by the vows. My vows are the way I demonstrate to myself, to God, and to oth-ers this desire to belong totally to him. The Latin verb for will is volo, velle, and the Latin verb voveo, vovere means vow or wish. Though etymologically the roots of volo and voveo do not seem to be related, there is, Review for Religious Harrison • The Warmth, the Will, and the Way 72 to my mind, a consonance of meaning. The vows of religious life are a way of making concrete the double-edged desire that is God's desire for me, expressed in a call—a word spoken silently in the heart—that awakens a reciprocating desire in me. His desire to give himself completely to me sets that very same flame alight in me so that I desire to give myself irrevocably to him. The gentle fire of the Spirit's warmth that God enkindles in my heart is drawing me, slowly but surely, toward the blazing glory at the heart of God, and my vows repre-sent the power of that attraction and my determination by God's grace to reach that goal. I see the vows of religious life as the embodiment and expression of the will to be united with God and to give myself to him totally in a particular context, in response to his gift of himself to us in Christ. This is so whether we are speaking of the monastic vows of obedi-ence, stability, and conversion of life or the evangelical counsels of poverty, chastity, and obedience (or, for that matter, similar sets of vows or promises: those of priest-hood or sacramental marriage, of virginity or service, of oblate-hood or lay association). From primitive times a vow was a solemn promise to make some gift or sacrifice to a divinity as an earnest of a good requested or in thanksgiving for a boon received. Although on a literal level this sounds like a type of bargaining or commerce, I can also see it as a way of demonstrating to myself and my God how important something is to me, how sincerely I desire it, how des-perately I need it, how serious my intentions are. The medieval king might have prayed, "Lord, defend us from the threat of these brutal enemies and I will build a church for your glory." Or a mother may pray, "Lord, if you spare my daughter from this dread disease, 71.1 2012 73 I will do everything I can to support research for its cure." Or a widow may say, as one I know did, "Lord, if I am spared from this condition leading to blindness, I will never use my eyes to take pleasure in what is not good and pure." Thus we see how a vow is an expression of a wish for some good for oneself or others. The Italian word for such a commitment is impegno, which can be translated as "pledge." Literally, some-thing given in pegno is pawned. By the vows I am putting the treasure of my earthly life in pledge for a higher good. I am putting my security, my posterity, and my liberty in pawn for something I need more urgently. What is it, in this case, that I need so urgently? I need the grace to live up to this persistent impulse to give myself—an impulse that God has placed in my heart. I know that the faith, hope, and love in me are too weak and faltering to do the job, to get me where I yearn to go. And so I pledge what I have to him and entrust my poor being to him, not to pay him for what he freely gives, but to show him (and myself) that I am serious about following him and that I trust him with this pre-cious but paltry gift of my life, trust that he will keep it safe and see it redeemed and restored in his own time. Pledging my life to him, I am confident that he will give me the grace I need to live each day. In the world of commerce, one pawns something of value for ready money—something that has value but is not spendable, for something that can be spent. The ready cash makes it possible to buy what is needed today. Another word for this ready cash is currency, also called fluid or liquid assets. All these words—"current," "fluid," "liquid"— suggest an action of flowing and remind us of the Spirit, that spring of living water that flows forth from the heart of Christ. Review for Religious Harrison • The Warmth, the Will, and the Way 74 Thus, when I make my profession of vows, I am proclaiming my faith in God and my desire to belong to him. The vows that I pronounce represent the totality of my gift of self. In the institute to which I belong, we profess the evangelical counsels—the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. These three vows are an apt symbol of the totality of my life. By dedicating to God all that I have, all that I love, and all my choices and decisions now and in the future, I am effectively giv-ing him all I am. This triad of the evangelical counsels reflects a totality of being, as do many similar triads. I have no trouble, for example, in seeing parallels between the vows and St. Ignatius's prayer surrender-ing "my memory, my understanding, my entire will." The traditional baptismal formula asks us to renounce "the world, the flesh, and the devil." Scripture tells us that we are to love God with our whole heart, soul, and mind (Mt 22:37). The magi brought the treasures of the nations—gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Micah tells us that our sole obligation is "to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God" (Mi 6:8). It is easy to see how the three evangelical counsels reflect the three theological gifts of faith, hope, and love. And finally, without putting too fine a point on the comparison, I suggest that the vow of poverty is descriptive of my relationship with the Father, without whom I am nothing and have nothing; chastity reflects my relationship with the Word, the Son, who is friend, Savior, and Bridegroom of souls; and obedience is the domain of the Spirit, who prompts the content of obe-dience and makes possible its practice. The act of making vows is thus a statement of my desire to surrender myself absolutely to the Absolute, to dedicate myself to his way and consecrate myself to his 71.1 2012 75 purpose. The mutuality of giving to which God invites me does not mean a mere absorption in each other. Though I would be content to lose myself in God, he seems to want more for me than that. God wants me to share his love for others and so, by my self-offering, he unites me to his own mission—his out-pouring, in-gathering action of universal love. Thus I am given to the particular apostolates and ministries of the institute in which I live my vocation. Sometimes vows are spoken of as sacred bonds. Bonds are something that we feel gripping us, holding or securing us. If bonds are involuntary we feel them as a constraint, an injustice. If they are desired, we feel them as a comfort, a belong-ing, an embrace. I suppose anyone who makes vows feels them sometimes as a restriction and some-times as a liberation. But part of the radi-cal nature of such a commitment is the protestation that one is willing to pay the price, that one values the liberation of giving oneself more than the security of having oneself. It is a recognition that dying to self is the road to life and that the cross shared is the victory won. Like the fox in Antoine de Saint-Exupéry's The Little Prince, I want nothing more than for the Little Prince to tame me, so that "the wheat, which is golden [like your hair], will remind me of you. And I'll love the sound of the wind in the wheat." The act of making vows is a statement of my desire to surrender myself absolutely to the Absolute. Review for Religious Harrison • The Warmth, the Will, and the Way 76 Consistency in the Way Returning, then, to my original point, I am saying that two things will help me to find a salutary consis-tency in my spiritual journey: the abiding warmth of the Spirit's presence in my heart, and the will—the determination—to yield to the relentless attraction of Jesus drawing me, and all, to himself. God's love for me in Christ arouses a reciprocating love in me. I give my poor self to him in pledge, not because I have to but because I want to, and he gives me, in return, the wherewithal to make the journey: the daily bread, the water from the rock, and the yearning for home—for the harbor—at the heart of God. Perhaps the greatest indication of his love that God has given me, from my point of view, is not his love itself for me (of which I can scarcely conceive) but my love for him, which is a sweet hunger, a soothing need. Nor is my love for him something that I can claim or that I often feel, but rather an occasional glimpse of light; a fitful melting of joy; a momentary, faint intima-tion of promised ecstasy. It is to the memory of those rare moments of tender quickening, of nostalgia for the unknown, that my will clings during the long periods of dryness, confusion, and loss. It is will that keeps me walking on the way when even the cherished memory fades and all I have left to fall back on is the Spirit's quiet presence in my heart. Indeed, it is all up to God. It is he who supports the journey from behind with his warm abiding. It is he who lures me from ahead through that hunger in my heart. And it is he who strengthens me on the way by the will to journey on. Each day's reminder of that will at work in me is the comforting burden of the vows, by which I experience within myself the debt of love, the 71.1 2012 77 yoke of gratitude, the claim of oneness by which I know that I am his. Being as I am, the fact that I do not manage to live my vows wholeheartedly is not surprising. But it is important that I feel the rub and the pinch and the chafe of them against my stubborn self. As my need and desire for God become stronger than all lesser needs and desires, so the bonds of my belonging to him will grow stronger than all my resistances. At the point that I can give myself without reserve, I will be free. And how do I dare to think that I will reach that point? St. Paul tells us that if God has gone so far as to give his Son for us, "will he not also give us all things with him?" (Rom 8:32). And Paul says further, "I am sure that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ" (Phil 1:6). I trust that God would not have put this desire in my heart, and that of my companions on the way, if he didn't intend to give us the grace to see it through. Home Walking the Labyrinth at Chartres Home. Is it where I begin or end or at the middle stillpoint? Am I at home on the way? Here I am, Lord. Never far from the beginning always approaching the end continually circling the center. Eugene Cartier Review for Religious Getting with the Program P robably one of the most important graces of my novitiate was coming to realize that I had an addiction. It was a painful and embarrassing experience, and yet I have no doubt that it was the best thing that has happened to me in a number of years. During my novitiate I started accessing pornogra-phy online. It was a development I was so ashamed of that I was afraid it would herald the end of my journey into religious life. Previously I had bought magazines and sought out sexually stimulating images in films or through image search engines on the Internet. My behavior began to take root at an early age in romantic fantasy. I would fantasize about being with a girl and wooing her in some exotic setting. Even though I was sexually inexperienced and naive and did not know what adults did together between the sheets, I would some-times escape into this fantasy when I went to bed. 78 A young man writes of his experience of coming to terms during the novitiate with his addiction to pornography. He has requested that the article be published anonym

Issue 67.1 of the Review for Religious, 2008. ; Mission Praye~r Consecrated Life Spiritual Supports QUARTERLY 67.'I 2008 Review for Religious fosters dialogue with God, dialogue with ourselves, and dialogue with one another about the holiness we try to live according to charisms of Catholic religious life. As Pope Paul V! said, our way of being church is today the way of dialogue. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-633-4610 ¯ Fax: 314-633-4611 E-Maih review@slu.edu ¯ \Veb site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McD6nough OP ¯ Pontifical College Josephinum 7625 North High Street ¯ Columbus, Ohio 43235 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2008 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distrihution, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such perntission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. Editor Associate Editor Canonical Counsel Scripture Scope Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Eugene Hensell OSB Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp Paul Coutinho sJ Martin Erspamer OSB Margaret Guider OSF Kathleen Hughes RSCJ Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Terry Steib SVD QUARTERLY 67.1 2008 contents prisms 4 Prisms 13 23 mission Conversation: A Brave New Way of Mission James P. McCloskey CSSP envisions creating an experience of "common ground" among people of goodwill within religious congregations about the many issues that cause division. Personal/Group Reflection Questions An "Asian" Meditation on the Gift of Mission James H. Kroeger MM reflects on the "mission motive" mentioned first by the Federation of Asian Bishops Conference: a deep sense of gratitude to God. prayer A Dream, Ash Wednesday, .and the Word Godelieve Theys OCSO shares a dream that has profound implications for finding God's Word alive and powerful, having always new things to say. Pedagogy of Prayer Jghn Carroll Futrell SJ reviews many aspects of our Christian prayer and suggests practical ways of making our lives more prayer-filled. Personal/Group Reflection Questions Pray Passionately Brendan Kneale FSC addresses the need to bring to our prayers a passion of the sort found in the wording of many Psalms. Revie~v for Religious 54 6O 67 consecrated life 0 The Institute of Impracticalities: The Financial Support of Monasteries Clifford Stevens cautions that, as soon as the mere support of the monastery becomes the primary concern, "practicality" takes over and Divine Providence goes right out the window. Enclosure and Other Ways to Widen One's Horizons M. Regina van den Berg FSGM argues that the experiences that travel and the media make possible are often escapes from reality, while the limited environment of the enclosure can widen our horizons. Religious Brotherhood Today Anthony Malaviaratchi CSSR sets. forth the challenges facing religious brothers' congregations, especially within the South Asian context. 74 85 spiritual supports Room for Sacramental Reconciliation? Vincent Genovesi SJ presents a solid theological and pastoral response to the questions raised about the usefulness or necessity of the rite of reconciliation. Personal/Group Reflection Questions Mentors Mentored: Spiritual Companionship with a Saint Lou Ella Hickman IWBS shares her experience of choosing St. Edith Stein to be her mentor as she mentors others on their spiritual journey. departments 89 Scripture Scope: Reading the Sermon on the Mount 94 Canonical Counsel: Personal Records of Community Members 100 Book Reviews 67.1 2008 prisms As we move eight years into the 21st century, we could well take stock of how we are measuring up to the vision and mission set before us by John Paul II's apostolic letter "At the begin-ning of the new millennium." As the pope noted, we are not in the peren-nial process of inventing a new program each year or even each century. The program consists in the plan found in the Gospel and in the liv-ing tradition of the church. "It has its center in Christ himself, who is to be known, loved, and imitated so that in him we may live the life of the Trinity and with him transform history until its fulfillment in the heavenly Jerusalem." But this Gospel program has to be translated into pastoral initiatives that are adapted to the circumstances of each local church and each local religious com-munity. That is the action call as we begin anew with the favor of another year. Where do we begin? There can be no other beginning than the challenge issued by Vatican II's Lumen gentium, chapter 5: the universal call to holiness. All our pastoral planning, all our religious renewal efforts, all our peace and jus-tice endeavors are measured by the clarity of our focus on holiness. In the way we live and in what we do, the question is most realistic and practical: Do we want to become holy? Is that our desire for others? There can be no growth in holiness without our entering more fully into a learning how to pray. While a widespread interest in spirituali- Review for Religious ties and spiritual practices is a contemporary phenomenon, the foundation remains a personal prayer life. Prayer, even in its most contemplative and cloistered forms, opens our hearts simultaneously to the love of God and to the love of our brothers and sisters. It is our Christian prayer that enables us to be shapers of movements and events in our local situation and sometimes even more widely in the world. It is prayer that roots us in the truth that "without Me, you can do nothing" (Jn 15:5). When we pray, we acknowledge the primacy of Christ and, in union with him, the primacy of the interior life and of holiness. Prayer itself needs to be nourished consistendy with a listening to the Word of God. As we continue to steep ourselves in Scripture, we find ourselves warming to the passion of sharing the Good News. This passion leads to a new sense of mission--mission not reserved to specialists or to lands different from our own. Yet witnessing to our faith vision must happen within a context of sensitivity to the differ-ent religious and value paths of our fellow citizens and to the diversity of cultures present within our own country in which the Christian message is expressed. In challenging all of us ordinary Christians, the pope writes: "A new apos-tolic outreach is needed which will be lived as the everyday commitment of Christian communities ahd groups." As Vatican II's Gaudium et spes §34 says, "The Christian message does not inhibit men and women from building up the world or make them disinterested in the welfare ofotheir fellow human beings: On the contrary, it obliges them more fully to do these very things." Review for Religious is privileged to play its part, through its many authors, in sharing insights and encouraging practices for this Christian mission. David L. Fleming SJ 67.1 2008 mission JAMES P. Mc CLOSKEY Conversation: A Brave New Way of Mission Ensnarled in traffic on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, I began to listen to a radio talk pro-gram more intendy than usual. I'was searching for words of consolation on a long and tedious drive. What I found was a fascinating--and stirring--discussion about reconciliation. The topic was abortion, but the focus of the discus-sion was the search for "common ground." The hour-long program was a recapitula-tion of meetings that occurred during the past year. The meetings were organized by women who had opposing positions on the issue of aborti6n. Representatives of both groups described themselves as feminists. The partici-pants in the year-long discussion were women accustomed to the public forum. That is, they were intelligent and articulate spokespersons James P. McCloskey CSSp writes from Congregazione dello Spirito Santo; Clivo di Cinna, 195; Roma 00136; Italy. Review for Religious for "pro-life" and "pro-choice" positions. During the year there had been unsuccessful attempts by some to cancel the series of meetings, angry leaks to the press about the discussions, and genuine fearfulness on both sides. But the meetings took place. And the result was extraordinary. Women who did not accept the position of other women who, in their opinion, allowed the law to regu-late their bodies listened nevertheless with compassion as their colleagues recounted their religious-faith con-victions, their differing understandings of the human person, and ~their simple--and different--biological beliefs. Other women, who could not theretofore abide the notion that females could terminate what they believed to be a human life within them, responded with empathy towards women whose scientific and human-istic principles were simply different from their own. In the end, members of neither group changed their positions. But also, in the end, members of both groups grew in respect and compassion for their "opponents." They achieved a form of "common ground" that will serve as the basis for future relationship and conversa-tion between them. Not for discussion of abortion do I raise this exam-ple, but as a way of envisioning and creating a similar experience of "common ground" among p~ople of good-will within religious congregations that were founded for mission and for service to the poor. The existence of multiple cultures within congregations, mirroring the multiple cultures within the Catholic Church, is evident. These cultures are related to the different languages, tribes, national identities, and ages within the congre-gations, but they are not confined to them. The social scientist Edgar Schein defines culture as "the deeper 67.1 2008 McCloskey * Conversation: A Brave New Way of Mission level of basic assumptions and beliefs that are shared by members of an organization, that operate unconsciously, and that define in a basic 'taken-for-granted' fashion an organization's view of itself and its environment."1 In Schein's view the most useful way to think about culture is to imagine it as "the accumulated shared learning of a given group, covering behavioral, emotional, and cogni-tive elements of the group members' total psychological functioning.''2 Since the publication of Schein's work, the under-standing and perception that most members of an orga-nization share the same cultural viewpoint has moved toward an awareness that many organizations contain multiple cultures or subcultures. Noting that some orga-nizations may have only fragmented, disjointed cultures, Joanne Martin has asked whether culture needs to be something internally consistent, or whether it can be inconsistent and expressive of difference. Can it incor-porate confusion, ignorance, paradox, and fragmenta-tion? What are the boundaries around culture, and how do cultures change?3 By multiple cultures within a religious congrega-tion, I mean the presence of differing and sometimes opposing worldviews under the umbrella of having been founded for a single purpose and with a single Rule of Life. Similarly, among Catholics in general, some define themselves as God's "pilgrim people," a term that implies moving towards the kingdom of God but not yet achieving it. Others think of the church as the kingdom of God here on earth. These different understandings translate into different understandings of morality, sac-ramental life, liturgy, and hierarchy. They are some-times called differences of "style," but they are more profound than that. Review for Religqous In religious missionary congregations, founded for "the spread of the gospel to those who have not yet heard it," it is no wonder that multiple cultures are the order of the day. On a large scale, those differences are racial, linguistic, ideological, generational, and ecclesi-astical. We make national and tribal attempts at "enculturation" of the life of our congregation and its values within a particular set-ting, translating ideals into prac-tice- often with success but not always. Within our congrega-tion's American subculture, mul-tiple differences of culture, are often experienced just as acutely and intensely as in international subcultures. Even in the "real 'life" of persons in one community, such as the same parish or school, different worldviews emerge that challenge common living. Recently, in a community-room conversation, a priest said, "It is impossible to be both Republican and Spiritan." He said it with the force of true conviction, and the Republican Spiritans in the room grew silent and began to seethe. In one prov-ince there are celebrations of the Tridentine liturgy, and there are those who question whether the celebration of daily Eucharist is ideal--or even spiritually healthy. The understanding and perception that most members of an organization share the same cultural viewpoint has moved toward an awareness ,that, many organizations contain multip!~e cultures or Subcultures. 67.1 2008 McCloskey * Conversation: A Brave New Way of Mis~ion There are liberals, conservatives, social activists, phi-losophers, and papists. A morley--and gracedmcrew! Undercurrents of cultural difference emerge in quiet discussions concerning the role of lay associates in the congregation; concerning the rising influence of the "southern" provinces, where candidates are many and new energy and vitality overshadow the elders of the "north"; and concerning members who choose to live and work in "untraditional" settings, interpreting "mis-sion" in a different way. Undercurrents rise to the sur-face during provincial elections or national assemblies, when stakes are high and the level of well-being is at risk. Sometimes an "elephant in the room" is studiously ignored during discussion of clergy sexual abuse, sexual orientation, financial accountability, or institutional assessments. In congregations with a missionary orientation and an international membership, the formal "cultural" training of members tends to be thorough and highly professional. Degrees in cross-cultural communica-tion, missiology, and anthropology abound. Experts in interreligious dialogue, ecumenism, and international development are fairly commonplace. Candidates in for-marion spend a period of ministry in another cultural context before definitive commitment, and most new members are assigned to countries not .their own. It is usual for members to achieve fluency in a second or even a third language. .Why, then, do we often find it difficult to talk among ourselves? Is it simply the human condition that the "traditionalists" will oppose the "progressives," that tribal alliances will win out over competence in choosing leadership, and that "turf wars" will decide who controls property and finance? We opted for more. Review for Religious And we know that the divisions are sinful reminders of our weakness. And so what is the solution to the dissolution? The solution is a simple one--a commitment to sustained and deliberate conversation for the purpose of achiev-ing "common ground." Following the model employed by the pro-life and pro-choice advo-cates, it is imperative to establish "rules" for dis-cussion. It is urgent to listen with care and real empathy. It is important to proceed with respect and humility. No one We know that the divisions are sinful reminders of . our weakness. person fully embodies the congregation's ideal mem-ber. Together, the members bear worldwide witness to the values espoused by its founders. No one perspective is to be eliminated or misjudged. The effort to engage in this conversation is fearful and intimidating. But it is the only way that differences can be respected--and, ultimately, that the persons expressing those different opinions will be respected and loved. The meaning of "mission" has changed since the foundation of the Spiritan congregafon in the 18th cen-tury. Far from an imposition of a foreign culture upon a people, mission is no less than sustained, purposeful, and respectful dialogue. It is a commitment to remain at the table, conversing honestly until the Spirit speaks. W-hat greater witness to the "mind of Christ" is possible than the example of a community determined to "linger at the table" and fully invest itself in genuine, honest conversation--for mission? 67.1 2008 McCloskey ¯ Conversation: A Brave New Way of Mission Notes t Edgar Schein, Organizational Culture and Leadership (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1985), p. 6. 2 Schein, Organizational Culture and Leadership, 2nd edition (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1992), p. 10. 3 Joanne Martin, Cultures in Organizations: Three Perspectives (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992), p. 4. 2o o Personal/Group Reflection Questions Where does my sense 6f mission come from--directly from God, from superiors, from the community in which I live? What give me a continuing sense of confirmation and support for my mission? When do we talk about our mission-~our individual ministries or our corporate ministry together? What makes this conversation helpful? What makes it painful and contentious? Review for Religious JAMES H. KROEGER An "Asian" Meditation on the Gift of Mission ~/~y mission? This perennial, persistent question mits of a variety of valid responses. Asking why is fundamentally a question of "mission motivation." Why evangelize? Why be Jesus' disciple? Why concern yourself?. What ends does mission really serve? The bishops of Asia continually grapple with these questions as they explore the evangelizing mission of the church on this vast continent of four billion people, where less than three percent of the burgeoning masses are Christian. Although these leaders of the church in Asia have elucidated several reasons for engaging in mission, what is striking is the "mission motive" they James H. Kroeger MM has since 1970 served mission in the Philippines and Bangladesh. Currently he is professor of Mission Studies and Islamics at the Loyola School of Theology; Ateneo de Manila University; Katipunan Avenue, Loyola Heights; Quezon City 1108; Philippines. jkroeger@admu.edu.ph 67.1 2008 Kroeger * The Gift of Mission mentioned first during the fifth plenary assembly of the Federation of Asian Bishops' Conferences (FABC). Collectively they forcefully asserted: "We evange-lize, first of all, from a deep sense of gratitude to God, the Father 'who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing' (Ep 1:3) and sent the Spirit into our hearts so that we may share in God's own life. Mission is above all else an overflow of this life from grateful hearts transformed by the grace of God" (FABC V). The Asian bishops vigorously affirm: "That is why it is so important for us Christians to have a deep faith-experience of the love of God in Christ Jesus (Rm 8:39), that love which has been poured forth in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who has ,been given to us (Rm 5:5). Without a personal experience of this love received as gift and mercy, no sense of mission can flourish" (FABC V). Note some of the words and phrases that the FABC uses to describe this motive for mission: "gratitude to God," "grateful hearts," "spiritual blessing," "given to us," "love received as gift and mercy." Indeed, mission is viewed as a gi~, graciously given, gratefully received, and generously shared. Gratitude is a powerful motive for energetic evangelization. The Image of Gift All cultures and peoples give gifts, particularly on special occasions and at significant life events: birthdays, weddings, holidays, anniversaries. Gifts bond people together, they express gratitude and appreciation. Gifts are chosen personally and carefully, to please each recip-ient. Often gifts-are exchanged at the same moment, further cementing families together, and friends too. Asians have elevated gift-giving into an art. What would Chinese celebrations and the Lunar New Year Review for Religiot~ be without generous gifts offered in red envelopes (ang-pao)? In Korea the ritual celebration of one's sixtieth birthday (hwangap) is an occasion for lavish gifting. No Filipino feels comfortable without bringing some pasa-lubong-- large or small--when returning home. Probably it is the experience of giving and receiving gifts--so deeply human--that prompted Asia's bishops to see gratitude for abundant grace received as a fit-ting image and motive for mission. This gift image expresses Christian thankfulness for God's unique, gra-tuitous, gift--Jesus the Son. Each day in the Eucharist, a Greek word that means thanksgiving (eucha-ristein), we say "we do well always and everywhere to give you thanks." Frequently in the Mass the Prayer over the Gifts refers to the "holy exchange of gifts." To help in grasping the deep meaning in the image of mission as gift, this "Asian" reflection now presents three interrelated moments of what might be termed "gift missiology." Three "R" words capture mission-as-gift: Recognize, Receive, and Reciprocate. Recognize by being profoundly aware of the uniqueness of God's gift. Receive by personally appropriating God's gift. Reciprocate by sharing God's gift with others. :The first moment in hppreciatin g "gift missiology" is ~to become deeply conscious of th~ depths of God's love. Recognizing the Gift The first moment in appreciating "gift missiology" is to become deeply conscious of the depths of God's 67.1 2008 Kroeger ¯ The Gift of Mission love, the love of the Trinity. The mission decree of the Second Vatican Council (Ad gentes) noted: "The pilgrim church is missionary by her very nature. For it is from the mission of the Son and the mission of the Holy Spirit that she takes her origin, in accordance with the decree of God the Father. This decree [divine plan] flows from that 'fountain of love' or charity within God" (AG §2). Mission originates in the centrifugal love of the Trinity; our missionary God shares of his essence which is love. God the Father gifts us with his incar-nate Son and the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. One can receive no greater gift. Prayer and contemplation facilitate a depth-awareness of this great gift. The New Testament is replete with expressions of God's magnanimous generosity. Paul reminds the Romans: "Adam prefigured the One to come, but the gift considerably outweighed the fall . Divine grace, coming through the one man Jesus Christ, came to so many as an abundant free gift. The results of the gift also outweigh the results of one man's sin . Jesus Christ will cause everyone to reign in life who receives the free gift that he does not deserve" (Rm 5:15-17). As one con-templates God's profound generosity, gratitude wells up in_the heart, leading one to proclaim "Thanks be to God for his inexpressible gift" (2 Co 9:15). Recognizing God's gifts also means being pro-foundly aware that we do not earn or merit the gifts; they come from God's generosity, as Paul explains to the Ephesians: "This was to show for all ages to come, through his goodness towards us in Christ Jesus, how infinitely rich he is in grace. Because it is by grace that you have been saved, through faith; not by anything of your own, but by a gift from God; not by anything that you have done, so that nobody can claim the credit. We Review for Religious are God's work of art" (Ep 2:7-10). Paul encourages the Romans to humbly receive God's gifts: "I want to urge each one among you not to exaggerate his real impor-tance . Our gifts differ according to the grace given us" (Rm 12:3-8). As Jesus prepares to leave his disciples, he promises them: "I shall ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate to be with you forever, that Spirit of Truth. ¯ ." (Jn 14:16). Jesus' prom-ise is fulfilled at'. Pentecost: God's generous gifts are for all peoples, whatever their religious, ,ethnic, or cultural background. "They were all I ~ filled with the - Holy Spirit .The Spirit gave them the gift of speech [to] proclaim the marvels of God" (Ac 2:1-12). The early Christian community--and our church today--have been assured of God's continuous generos-ity: "You will not be without any of the gifts of the Spirit while you are waiting for our Lord Jesus Christ to be revealed" (1 Co 1:7). Paul notes that all gifts have one source: "There is a variety of gifts but always the same Spirit . All these are the work of the one and the same Spirit, who distributes different gifts to different people just as he chooses" (1 Co 12:1-12). God's generous gifts are for all peoples, whatever their religious, ethnic, or cultural background; thus, "the Holy Spirit came down on all the listeners . All were astonished that the gift of the Holy Spirit should be poured out on the pagans too" (Ac 10:44-45). Peter proclaims God's graciousness in Jaffa, saying: "I realized 67.1 2008 Kroeger * The Gift of Mission then that God was giving them the identical gift be gave to us when we believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, and who was I to stand in God's way?" (Ac 11:17). Mission originates in this profound consciousness of what the Father has graciously wrought in Christ Jesus and their Spirit, continually manifested in the church. St. Th~r~se of Lisieux expressed her awareness of God's gift when she concluded: "My vocation is Love! In the heart of the church, my Mother, I shall be Love. Thus, I shall be everything." Receiving the Gift A transformed consciousness that fully appreciates God's graciousness will receive the gift of faith with a joyful heart. One need only recall how this precious gift has been given and received. One could ask: Why of the four billion people in Asia have I been privileged to receive the gift of Christian faith? Who were God's instruments in transmitting the gift to me? What price did my parents or the missionaries have to pay so that I would have this great treasure? Who are the holy people in my life who have helped me appreciate God's gifts? Reflecting on these questions will facilitate a more per-sonal reception of God's gifts of grace. When Jesus engages the Samaritan woman at the well, he challenges her to have a deeper appreciation of the gift being offered: "If you only knew the giJ~ God is offering and who it is that is saying to you: Give me a drink, you would have been the one to ask, and he would have given you living water" (Jn 4:10). Writing to the Corinthians, Paul invites them to a more profound awareness of the gift of being a Christian; he says: "People must~ think of us as Christ's servants, stewards entrusted with the mysteries of God. Review for Religious What is expected of stewards is that each one should be found worthy of his trust . What do you have that was not given to you? And if it was given, how can you boast as though it were not?" (1 Co 4:1-2,7). Both the Samaritan woman and the Corinthian community are to appreciate that, since they have been recipients of God's gifts, they themselves are now able to be gifts to others. Precisely because one is loved, has experienced God's love, and has thus become lovable, one can reach out to others with the gift of love. This is the transformed ° - consciousness that God's gifting creates in receptive individuals. One is reminded of what the Asian bishops have said: "Without a personal experience of this love received as gift and mercy, no sense of mission can flour-ish" (FABC V). A deep reception of God's Trinitarian gifting will result in a further gift: a personal vocation to minis-try. This was the "conversion" experience of St. Paul; the Lord affirmed: "This man is my chosen instrument to bring my name before pagans and pagan kings and ¯ before the people of Israel" (Ac 9:15). Paul personally owns this gift: "I have been made the servant of that gospel by a gi~ of grace from God who gave it to me by his own power" (Ep 3:7). Paul celebrates God's choice, noting that: "God never takes back his gi)~ or revokes his choice" (Rm 11:29). Reception of God's gift is a continuous, ongoing '~ A deep reception of, -God's Trinitarian gifting will result in a further gift: a personal vocation to ministry. 67.1 2008 Kroeger ¯ The Gift of Mission process. Paul reminds his beloved Timothy (and us) to keep growing in receptiveness (appreciation, personal-ization, appropriation) of God's gift: "You have in you a spiritual gift which was given to you when the prophets spoke and the body of elders laid their hands on you; do not let it lie unused. Think hard about all this, and put it into practice" (1 Tm 4:14-15). Reciprocating God's Gift The New Testament passage that best captures this third moment of gift missiology is: "What you have received as a gift, give as a gift" (Mt 10:8). The logic is simple: if one truly appreciates a gift, one wishes to share it with others. The desire to gift others is the best and clearest manifestation of authentic gratitude. The New Testament letters of James and Peter add further insight: "Make no mistake about this, my dear brothers: every good gift, everything that is perfect, is given us from abtve; it comes down from the Father of all light" (Jm 1:16-17). "Each of you has received a special gift, so like good stewards responsible for all these different graces of God, put yourselves at the service of others . . . so that in everything God may receive the glory." (1 P 4:10-11). Pope John Paul II'S 1999 apostolic exhortation Ecclesia in Asia (EA) provides several insightful per-spectives on how the church in Asia is to "reciprocate" (return, repay) the gifts it has received. "The church's faith in Jesus is a gift received and a gift to be shared; it is the greatest gift which the church can offer to Asia" (EA § 10b). "Blessed with ~the gift of faith; the church [is to become] a community aflame with missionary zeal to make Jesus known, loved, and followed . The great Review for Religious question now facing the church in Asia is how to share with our Asian brothers and sisters what we treasure as the gift containing all gifts, namely, the Good News of Jesus Christ" (EA §19a & c). "Only if the people of God recognize the gift that is theirs in Christ will they be able to communicate that gift to others through proclamation and dialogue" (EA §3 If). The perspective of "mission as gift" contains sev-eral insights on the approach or manner of mission in Asia, which is necessarily dialogue. Christians treasure the gift of their trinitarian faith, offering it freely, even enthusiastically, to others. The gift is offered with a sincere heart, yet all evangelizers know that people are free to accept or reject the gift. The dialogue partners, such as Muslims and Buddhists, also have gifts to offer: the riches of their faith and their personal "God experi-ence." Thus, a wonderful exchange of gifts can result. All people who ha~e the gift of faith need to collaborate so that through sharing their gifts they can" enrich the poor and needy in their midst. The Asian bishops were indeed most perceptive in their reflection on a renewed motivation for mission, listing gratitude first among several possible motives. Recall what they said: "We evangelize, first of all, from a deep sense of gratitude to God. Mission is above all else an overflow of this life from grateful hearts trans-formed by the grace of God . Without a personal experience of this life received as gift and mercy, no sense of mission can flourish" (FABC V). Paul's well-worded exhortation to his co-evangelizer Timothy provides a fitting conclusion for these reflec-tions on the gift of mission (gift missiology). In Paul's words, Christifins can find a reprise Of their recognition, reception, and reciprocation of the gift Of faith. Paul writes: 67.1 2008 Kroeger ¯ The Gift of Mission "Fan into a flame the gift that God gave you when I laid my hands on you .Never be ashamed of witness-ing to the Lord . Bear hardships for the sake of the Good News . Accept the strength that comes from the grace of Christ Jesus . Proclaim the message and, welcome or unwelcome, insist on it . Do all with patience . Make the preaching of the Good News your life's work, in thoroughgoing service" (2 Tm 1:6, 8-9a; 2:1; 4:1,5). Mary Keeping Shabbat There would be nearly nine months ahead Of seventh-day worship in synagogue, Sitting with her sisters and her mother In the women's rows, opposite the minyun Of their men, her secret blossoming within her, Thrusting against the homespun of her gown. She hugged its warm folds, the warm hand Of her mother covering her own. For Jews Seeking signs to believe in, or to disbelieve, The signs were there every Shabbat - seventh- Month, eighth-month - that a daughter of righteous Parents was boldly with child, Her Joseph betrayed! Her betrayer someone here among us! Watch where She turns her eyes. But she only turns her eyes To heaven, while saying her Shabbat prayers, Singing the Shabbat psalms, a bright-haired Mary, keeping Sunday in her womb. Nancy G. Westerfield Review for Religious GODELIEVE THEYS A Dream, Ash Wednesday; and the Word In my fifty years of living in a Catholic mon-astery, an important element of my religious development has been to pay close attention to dreams. My daily life involves prayer, ritual, music, liturgy, silence, study, and work, while my nights, more than sleep, are often filled with religious imagery, prayer, and music as part of dreaming. In the Christian tradition there is a long, often neglected history of dreams pro-viding spiritual insight. John Sanford captures this in his book title: Dreams: God's Forgotten Language. Clearly much of the modern world has forgotten the significance of dreams~ as car-riers of spiritual teachings, and unfortunately, even in religious tradition, we often leave these divine messages of the night unattended. Godelieve Theys OCSO.came from Belgium in 1962 to help found her new Cistercian home at Redwoods Abbey; 18104 Briceland Road; Whitethorn, California 95589. prayer 67.1 2008 Theys ¯ A Dream, Ash Wednesday, and the Word It was in a dream that St. Joseph was warned by an angel to take the holy Child out of Israel for protection from a king who would kill the newborn King. Joseph knew the power of dreams and followed the instruction provided in the night. Where are we in our willingness to listen and follow the dream messengers? Growing older as I am, I recently recalled a dream in which I was told, "You should at least write a book to serve human-ity." This made little sense to me at the time. I did not see myself as an author, and I had no desire or inten-tion to write for others until recently. In the past year I was so deeply moved by a specific dream that I now find myself creating material that seems to want to be shared widely. Though I am not writing a book, I still hope that my experiences may help others realizer that dreams can give'insight into the mysterious reality we call the religious or the spiritual. Religion, while in gen-eral being about dogma and tradition, is also personal, being about the soul's movement towards God. Key to monastic living is to find the divine in all of life's experi-ences. Like St. Joseph, we are called to listen to angelic voices in the night, to listen to dreams as insights into religious living. Last year during Lent I had an indelible dream. For much of this year I have been trying to hear fully the message that it offers. The dream has changed me and continues to do so. The dream was this: It was Ash Wednesday. I was aware that the morning liturgy mate-rial was already typed, but that the evening material was not. I left the church and went for a morning walk outdoors, as I often do. There I saw something alive on the ground. I bent down and touched it. It was the Word for the evening liturgy, alive under my hand. I was moved to tears. It was a numinous experience. I Review for Religious wondered what to do? Should I keep this living Word with me until after lunch, protecting the Word so that it would not be destroyed or die before it was typed for the evening service, or should I return immediately to the community and get it typed right away? I was per-plexed. I awoke singing the refrain of the song "Deep Within." My words were: "Deep within I will plant my law, not on stone, but in your heart. Follow me, I will bring you back; be my own, and I will be your God." I could not recall making any decision. Besides the music, the thing that jumped out for me in the dream was the breathtaking feeling that in touching the Word I was experiencing the living pres-ence of God. In the dream ~- - - this experience of God . ¯ in the Word comes after I leave the church and take a walk amid some of nature's beauty. For me this confirms the church's i'~ life and traditional struc- ', tures and also my rela- , tion to our monastery's natural environment. Going outdoors, as in my dream image, reminds me of the evolution of consciousness itself. Awareness develops through our contact with the: outside world, through relationship with the world around us. Living in the heart of a forest, I am blessed in knowing the world as divine creation. For years I have walked daily in the beauty of our landscape to be restored. Walking and attending to nature is a way of quieting the mind and refreshing the soul. The wonder of the natural world offers my constant .mental activ-ity the opportunity to be touched by the realm of the In touching the Word I was experiencing the living presence of God. 67.1 2008 Theys ¯ A Dream, Ash Wednesday, and the Word senses. In this dream of finding the Word alive, on the ground before me, my senses seem to come fully alive and open me to the deeper experience of this religious moment. Might the Word be more available than we imagine if only we were more attuned to this possibility? Seeing with our eyes, hearing with our ears, touching with our hands---how much of life are we missing and how much spiritual potential lies undiscovered simply'because we are not aware? This dream calls me to greater attention because in it I saw the Word, alive, under my hand. I felt its pulse. It was like a little bird that could' not fly and was waiting perhaps for me to pick it up, hold it gently, quench its thirst, that it could recover its strength and fly again. It was truly an experience of the sacred to feel this life under my hand, to feel the living substance of it. In that moment there was an immediate relationship between God's Word and me. Eros, relatedness, was involved. I was deeply moved; my heart was touched to the point of tears. The Word needs to be seen, to be heard, to be spoken, to be listened to, and to be fol-lowed so that its message can get through and heal the depths of the heart. It is important to me that this Word was found, not only outdoors, but also on the ground, on the earth in front of me--not above, not in the air, not transcendent. Here a divine Word was putting itse!f right in front of me, like something that was lost. There it was, all by itself, needing my help, needing me to keep my eyes open or miss a divine manifestation. Iv am reminded of the story of the rabbi who was asked, "How is it that God doesn't speak to people as he did in the past?" The rabbi answered: "Because no one bows low enough any-more." Bowing low is a gesture of humility that we may Review for Religious lack. As modern people we seek the spiritual above and beyond, outside the world of matter, and perhaps are not humble enough to see what is right before us. But, returning to the dream, what is before me is the Word. Living in a contemplative community, I am regularly in touch with the Word of God in Scripture-- and in the Rule of St. Benedict as well. These are important for my daily life. In this tradition there is nothing more powerful than the teaching in the opening verse of St. John's Gospel: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." Before the evangelist, the prophet Isaiah told us: "The grass withers, the flower fades, but the Word of God will stand firm" (Is 40:58). And Jesus himself said: "Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away" (Mt 5:18). In reflecting upon the Word as it comes in the dream, I am reminded that there are many words--vol-umes upon volumes filled with them--and there is the Word. This dream clearly reflects the power of the Word. As Heidegger said, "language is more than little puffs of breath." Words are wellsprings of energy, giving us the power to communicate with one another, to share our thoughts, feelings, and experiences. Words bring us into relationship with the world around us and with our inner world as well. They put us in touch with our past, lead us into the future, and help us realize actual Words bring us into relationship with theWorld around Us and with, our inner world as well. 67.1 2008 Theys ¯ A Dream, Ash Wednesday, and the Word situations and attitudes in the present. They tell us what is in our mind and heart. Words both wound and heal. They are not only expressions of our conscious life, our ego identity, but also of our unconscious, as it comes through in dreams. They often have deeper meanings than what they stand for in ordinary life. They are chan-nels to our deeper and truer identity. Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, now Pope Benedict XVl, in his book Salt of the Earth reminds us that "the word revealed in history is definitive, but it is inexhaustible, and it unceasingly discloses new depths. In this sense, the Holy Spirit, as the interpreter of Christ, speaks with his word to every age and shows it that this word always has something new to say.''1 The Holy Spirit, as the interpreter of Christ, who is God's definitive Word, "always has something new to say," but are we prepared to listen? Listening to my dream, I return to Ash Wednesday and sense the meaning of Lent, a meaning that tells me that, through deeper listening and closer attention to both dreams and daily life, we might come to greater awareness of the Word as it reveals itself to us. Nonetheless, I can-not help wondering why the Word, as it comes in this dream, does not address itself direcdy to me. Why does it not communicate what it expects me to do? I do not know what choice I made about taking care of the Word I was holding. It was only when I woke hearing the song "Deep Within" that I came to sense the message of the Word in this dream, the message of "Follow me." Turning.to the Gospels, I think of Jesus saying "Follow me" in several instances. The words of the song in my dream return: "Follow me, I will bring you back; be my own, and I will be your God." The Word will bring us back, will reveal our true selves, if only we are Review for Religious willing to follow the path of Jesus, the path of becom-ing a new being, with the only true name we have: I am. To follow Jesus as the enlightened one coming out of his baptism as the Son of God, the Beloved, involves living in relationship to the Word. We must entrust ourselves to the flow of life and consciously live the seasonal changes from death to new birth. Like the day that flows into night, we are always in transformation. Nothing remains static. Laziness, not striving to be con-stantly awake, locks us into one place and we stagnate and decay. Commitment to following the Word leads into the paschal mystery, the cycle of life, death, and resurrection. We are to let go of our attachments, not only to material possessions, but also to family, profession, social group, community, even to institutional religion. Like the rich young man who asked Jesus what he must do to have life, we must let go of what we have or who we think we are. We are to sell all and follow the path that leads to greater life, and, as Thomas Merton said when he was at Red, woods in 1968, "we have to stand on our own two feet." Along the same line, Elizabeth B. Howes wrote: "To sell all., means to renounce that right to choose the specificity of one's own desire and to let oneself be molded by the Patterning of the moment. Through such conscious choice, we give back to its true owner what we have been given. It is as if our life were on loan. We either take it and run away to shape it as we will, or we turn it back to its Source in a volitional act of choice, which makes us co-creators with the process of God.''2 To follow God's law planted in our heart is to find our true identity and to know the sacredness of the liv- 67.1 2008 ing Word, as in the image of my dream. This journey of which I write is the task of our lifetimes. Notes ~ Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Salt of the Earth (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1987), p. 62. 2 E.B. Howes, Jesus' Answer to God (San Francisco: Guild for Psychological Studies Publishing House, 1984), p. 89. Longing for Easter Give us Easter, the brilliant wine of the Kingdem, the days when He might appear at any moment and we in his presence become speechless with joy, shy with wonder. Give us Easter, when we can forget (not from shame) the dark pain that went before, or see it as one sees, from the bright rooms of home, the troubled road by which one traveled back Give us Easter and spring and the words of songs we always hoped to learn Give us always Easter. Kate Martin OSC Review for Religious JOHN CARROLL FUTRELL Pedagogy of Prayer HTan persons grow only through their relation-ips to the realities that enter into their self-awareness. This is a matter of integration, of becoming more and more whole rather than more and more dis-persed. Integrated selfhood is achieved only by free commitment to a life-meaning. People actualize their personal identity by faithfully choosing all their lives to express their identity in an authentic way. ~: The total human development of persons gifted with Christian faith calls them to integrate into their growth their relationships with other persons, with themselves, with things, and especially with God. Graced confessing that Jesus is Lord is recognition that the central rela-tionship of their life is their personal relationship with God. To bring this relationship into self-awareness is to pray. I shall suggest in this article a pedagogy of prayer. I shall offer reflections on what prayer is. Then I shall make some practical remarks on how to pray. Finally John Carroll Futrell SJ has written for this journal about ten times, beginning in 1958. His address is 3601 Lindell Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63108. 67.1 2008 Futrell ¯ Pedagogy of Prayer I shall respond affirmatively to the question "Can we pray?" What Is Prayer? When we pray we meet God. Perhaps the best description of prayer is that it is a loving, personal encounter with God. C.S. Lewis remarked: "Prayer is either a sheer illusion or a personal contact between embryonic, incomplete persons (ourselves) and the utterly concrete Person." Our problem is to verify this encounter. Encounter may take many forms. Close friends can encounter each other by talking or being silent, or even when they are physically far from each other, because they are always in personal commu-nion. It takes two to make an encounter. I can reach out to you, but, unless you receive me and give yourself to me on the personal level, we can have no true encounter. When you reach out to God, God is there to receive you. This loving personal encounter is prayer. God is present, whether we "feel" that presence or not. We know this is true because God has revealed it to us. We know it because we have the gift of faith. The Holy Spirit present in us enables us to confess that Jesus is Lord. We must insist with faith on the fact of God's constant, transcendent, loving presence, even when we feel nothing but dryness. Our own coming to encounter God is the human dimension of prayer. Prayer as a human activity is mak-ing ourselves present to the presence of God within us, so that we can recognize God's presence in everyone and everything around us. Prayer requires of us the labor to get ourselves together, body, feelings, imagination, intelligence, will, desires, place, time, environment--so Review for Religious that we can truly be present to the presence of God in loving, personal encounter. Our essential praying, then, is accomplished by the will to pray even in the midst of distractions or of total dryness. If we have the sincere desire to pray, then, at the bottom of our heart, deep within us, there is a loving encounter with God, even though it is not consciously felt at the top of our head. St. Paul put it perfecdy in his Letter to the Romans: The Spirit too comes to help us in our weakness. For, when we cannot choose words in order to pray properly, the Spirit expresses our plea in a way that could never be put into words, and God, who knows everything in our hearts, knows perfectly well what the Spirit means. (Rm 8:26-28) A problem for many people attempting to verify the encounter with God which is prayer is that they begin with their own idea of good prayer, as determined by lack of distractions, no dry-ness, a continuous feeling of consolation. A false notion of prayer makes true prayer unverifiable. The problem here may be that we are seeking God for ourselves rather than for love of God. Instead of welcoming God's personal presence personally, we turn God into an 0/~ect, a thing we can acquire to fill a need. Prayer must be openness, listening, welcome. Prayer leads us from self-centered need to other-centered love. This passage from need to love is illuminated by reflection with Freud on human growth toward matu-rity as a movement from need to desire2 As infants we all begin as quivering bundles of needs. We relate to Prayer must be openness, listening, welcome. 67.1 2008 Futrell * PedagoG of Prayer all the realities that come into our awareness--espe-cially our mothers--as objects there to satisfy our needs. Need seeks self-satisfaction, the absorption of the other into myself. Freudian body imagery is revealing. Need means self-affirmation of my own bodily presence only; this annihilates all that is not myself by consuming it bodily. As long as I am operating chiefly from my need, I affirm myself only as an object, a needy body-thing, just as I affirm others only as objects to satisfy my needs. Freud shows that it is in passing from need to desire that we come to human maturity. In his terminology, when I desire another person, I affirm the reality of the other as a subject, as a free mysterious person, with inalien-able rights and always beyond adequate representation in concept or image. In desire we recognize what is not ourselves and affirm its free otherness. It is only in affirming others as persons that we realize ourselves as persons, as free subjects open to personal relationships. VChen we pass from need to desire, we can say, "It is now for the first time that I truly experience myself as a person, for it is only in your presence that I am." The poet e.e. cummings put it perfectly: "i am through you so i." When we apply this Freudian model to prayer, it is dear that in its initial stages prayer would reflect as in a mirror the emptiness of our need for God. From expe-riencing this need we shall pass gradually to the desire for God in God's infinite otherness. Even on the human level, desiring the other as unique and thus infinitely different from me is the greatest love. "I love you" becomes "You exist!" To love others is to will their pres-ence as irreducible to me. In recognizing their unique-ness, I recognize an absence in their very presence, the inalienable freedom of their otherness. Review for Religious Thus, desire--love--is not a static, finished thing. It is an ongoing living thing. Because of this fascinating and wonderful presence-in-absence, even a moment of intense personal union opens upon a new frontier, a beckoning from beyond towards deeper union. Another person remains an unfathomable secret. I cannot know this secret through thought or images or even bodily union. I can know another person only through love. In The Art of Loving (chap. 2), Erich Fromm points out: "In love, I know you, I know myself, I know every-body-- and I 'know' nothing. I know in the only way knowledge of that which is alive is possible for man--by experience of union--not by any knowledge our thought can give." The only way to full knowledge lies in the experience of love. This experience transcends thought; it transcends words. Thus, if I can have no full knowledge of God in thought, if theology is at best negative, then posi-tive knowledge of God can be achieved only in the act of union with God. In prayer we know God by lov-ing God, by welcoming God's gift to us in the loving experience of God's presence-in-absence. Prayer always remains desire, opening ever more widely toward ever fuller union, as St. Teresa of Avila and St. John of the Cr6ss powerfully attest. Ren~ Voillaume insists that we will be less satisfied with ourselves in prayer the more closely we approach God. This lack of satisfaction is a part of prayer, a proof of unfulfilled desire, which can only grow with growth of love. Far from satisfying thirst for God, prayer increases it. Pierre Teilhard de Chardin wrote: God does not offer himself to our finite beings as a thing all complete and ready to be embraced. For us he is eternal discovery and eternal growth. 67.1 2008 Futrell * Pedagogy of Prayer The more we think we understand him, the more he reveals himself as otherwise. The more we think we hold him, the further he withdraws, drawing us into the depths of himself. The nearer we approach him through all the efforts of nature and grace, the more he increases, in one and the same movement, his attraction over our powers, and the receptivity of our powers to that divine attraction. (The Divine Milieu, pp. 119-120) As St. Thomas Aquinas put it, "by prayer we render ourselves capable of receiving." St. Gregory of Nyssa pointed out that the more we make progress, the more we discover that God infinitely transcends all that we can ever know of God. "To find God is to seek God without end." Thomas Merton noted that "progress in prayer is a continual burning of bridges behind us." Prayer, then, is faith, openness, listening, welcome, surrender. It is not through speculation or through study of theories of prayer and of love that we learn to pray and to love God, but only through the exercise of prayer and of love. We must sweep away all preconcep-tions and simply listen to God. Jesus told us in a parable what our attitude should be when we pray. We should be the good soil that nurtures the seed planted in it by the Divine Sower, accepting the word with faith. Just as we find Christ in the Eucharist under the appear-ances, so we must seek the reality of encounter with God under the words and gestures of our prayer. The soil where the word is sown is the heart, the center of our person. If we do not receive God here, our prayer is marked by boredom and routine and falsehood. We must be present to our own heart, where God is seek-ing us in spirit and in truth. All of our authentic prayer begins in our heart, in the activity of the Holy Spirit in our hearts.2 Review for Religious We have nearly two thousand years of reflection on the experience of Christian praying. The great masters of prayer always have seen as true prayer the "interior understanding and relish" that is born of the Holy Spirit's illumination of our spirit. This prayer may be very dry. Our prayer may often be quite simple: just a period of repeating the same thing to God over and over until it becomes part of us. Prayer can be a tor-ment until we are transformed into what we are say-ing. Christians who really pray have always known that "by their fruits you shall know them." The criterion of good prayer is not sensible consolation, but whether we continually live a more loving life by the power we receive even in very arid prayer. When we seem lost in our own confusion, distracted, and hardly present to God except in a prayerful word or two, there still may be in us, through the Holy Spirit's presence, a desire that we eventually experience as power, strength to serve God and our neighbor with our whole being, no matter what the cost. Thomas Merton's teaching on prayer emphasizes that the Holy Spirit is .seeking us in our hearts, where we come to ourselves. It is difficult to enter into the silence of our hearts, the place where no one else can enter, where we must put off our masks and no longer hide.3 This is where God calls us: "Give me your heart, your very self." Here we allow God to judge us, God who invites us to a full life. Here we learn to be at home We have nearly two thousand years of reflection on the experience of Christian praying. 67.1 2008 Futrell ¯ Pedagogy of Prayer with God, beyond our emotions and our intellectual life. We learn to overcome our fear of what is there and our temptation to go back to what is familiar. God is at home where we are truly ourselves. Merton put it, "Prayer does not consist in an effort to get across to God, but in opening our eyes to see that we are already there." The good that we seek through prayer is not the self-satisfaction of a "successful" prayer according to our own idea, but the formation of an attitude of total surrender to God in every detail of our daily life. This good God gives, through the more or less active coop-eration of our effort to pray. This is the pearl of great God is always calling us, speaking to us in all the events of our daily lives. price always to be sought in prayer. It is this which transforms us in Christ and prepares us always to say yes to the Word of God calling us at every moment of our lives. Brother David wrote, "Only life lived to the full measures up to the task of contemplation" (Gratefulness, p. 64). A life of ongoing prayer will draw us deeper and deeper into the presence of God, until we shall experience it in situations that do not immediately suggest God's presence. Then we are praying always, even though our conscious attention is elsewhere. This is what the masters of prayer mean by finding God in all things. God is always calling us, speaking to us in all the events of our daily lives. God comes to us in every situation we face: in our work, in our play, in the people we meet, in all our duties. All of these serve as invitations to welcome God here and Review for Religious now, to let God challenge us to live our Christian life perfectly. If we understand prayer this way, there are never places where prayer is impossible. Perhaps we need to change our way of understanding prayer. Louis Evely has said, "We're not asked to choose between God and world, but to discover God in the world and reveal God to it." It has been well said that there are no part-time human beings or part-time Christians Or part-time con-templatives. When we confess that Jesus is Lord, no sin-gle moment of our lives is outside this relationship.4 We can live prayer at all times, whether formally praying or not. What are we really seeking at all times during our life? What is our basic operational orienta-tion? What is our heart's treasure? This may be other people, egoism, money, pleasure, popular success, or it may be God. Whatever it is, it pervades all our actions, rules our individual choices and our spontaneous actions and reactions, constructs our world, without our being conscious of it all the time. If my basic existential ori-entation is to God, I am praying always, always having a loving personal encounter with God. Thomas Merton summed it up perfectly: "If I find God I will find myself, and if I find my true self I will find God. And the only one who can teach me to find God is God's self. So pray for your own discovery." How to Pray Since prayer is a loving personal encounter with our forever faithful God, our human effort during any period of our life must always be to make ourselves present to God: to enter into our own faith experience of the Spirit of the risen Jesus at the bottom of our heart, where God touches our life. This is the meaning 67.1 2008 Fuvrell ¯ Pedagog~ of Prayer of all human prayer, whatever the method or style. The criterion for judging which method or style to use is simple: "Does it work?" Does this method at this time bring us into God's presence? Is it enabling us to live a life of love for God, other people, and myself?. A particular method of prayer may meet this crite-rion for years. But normally there will be times when a method is no longer right for us. Then we must experi-ment with various methods. We must be open to all pos-sibilities: God can use anything as a way to encounter us. Our part is to discover a way of finding God now. It may be a hope-filled darkness in which we wait willingly for subde energies of faith and love to return. The best prayer for me now may be meditation on the revealed truths of faith. People sometimes reject this method as "talking to myself." Well, why not talk to ourselves if God, who can make use of anything, is there and listening attentively? At times the best prayer may be lectio divina: slow thoughtful reading of Scripture or of other spiritual writings, stopping sometimes where we experience some heartfelt understanding. God works with us incarnationally, and so the method of prayer that works usually fits our temperament and cultural climate. Some older persons may be drawn to slow recitation of the rosary or to reading set prayers reflectively. The method for other persons_ may be singing or playing a guitar or adopting various body positions. The criterion always is "What works?" The great contemporary master of prayer Brother David Steindl-Rast OSB proposes two excellent ques-tions for evaluating our current method of prayer: (1) Is my prayer truly an expression of my prayerfulness, gratefulness, sorrow, compassion, and so forth? and (2) Does my prayer make me more prayerful? Review for Religious Two millennia of Christian experience show that it is fairly normal for people to be led gradually from more active methods of prayer to quieter, more passive methods. The way of praying may become simply enter-ing into a deeply felt attitude and resting in it: being thanks, being open, being praise, being begging when we feel our radical poverty deeply. In this prayer, when we become aware of our mind or imagination running off in various directions, we simply let those distractions fall as we keep coming back to our deep attitude of being. The Psalms fit this form of prayer because they express deeply felt attitudes, often in just a line or half line. Just a few verses of a psalm may help for days or even weeks. For persons who are feeling far from God and overwhelmed with cares and anxieties, the first few lines of Psalm 40 can be of great help: I waited patiently for the LORD; he inclined to me and heard my cry. He drew me up from the desolate pit, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure. He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. Stop at words or phrases. Let them sink in, and let your own thoughts rise. Stay there until you feel that the Holy Spirit is leading you to the next word or phrase. Another important form of. prayer to learn, consider-ing our tendency to rush on, is repetition: coming back to interior movements we experienced during previous periods of prayer and letting the Spirit deepen these movements and draw us closer to God and away from what holds us back. There are times when we should simply "plough the rock until it bear." 41 67.1 2008 Futrell * Pedagogy of Prayer In Christian prayer there is no method more central than contemplation of t, he life of Jesus in the Gospels. In Christian prayer there is no method more central than contemplation of the life of Jesus in the Gospels. This contemplation can take many forms and range from fairly discursive reflection to simple presence to Jesus in a scene. The proof that our method of contem-plation of Jesus is right for us right now is the experi-ence of being more and more transformed into him in our daily living with and love of other people. We must be ready to recognize when the prayer to which God calls us now is simply to enter into the void and wait in darkness for God. We realize that for us at present God is nowhere else than in this purifying empti-ness. A Jesuit friend of mine once told me that the only way he had been able to pray for weeks was to stand holding his arms up in supplica-tion. There were no thoughts, no images, not even a deeply felt attitude-- nothing. Yet he knew that this body prayer of emptiness was what God wanted of him then, beyond any thought or feelings. Even in desolation we are called to pray by "remembering consolation." W-hen darkness overcomes us, our prayer must be a faith that remembers what we saw, felt, hoped, and loved when we were filled with light. It can be helpful to think about prayer as a place. Sometimes it is a garden, beautiful, full of flowers, sweet scents, and birds singing and fountains play-ing. Sometimes it is a mountaintop, where we would Review for Religious like to pitch a tent and stay. Sometimes it is a desert. Sometimes it is a "blah" place, where all we can say is "God, here I am in my blahness." Sometimes it is a rock that we cling to with bloodied hands. And sometimes it is an empty tomb. For me, sometimes, it is a boat, when I feel as exhausted as Jesus was when his disciples woke him to calm the storm. Then all I can say, before falling asleep, is "Jesus, I'm with you!" A friend of mine, a sister, returning very blue and worn from a day of apostolic work, composed a beauti-ful prayer out of this feeling of prayer as a place: Dear God, tonight I'm tired and discouraged. I want to just give up and walk away. I'm in the basement and I want to go to the attic. In the basement, I'm lonely. In the attic, I'm alone, all one. In the basement, I crouch in the dark damp coal bin and dig up bones from the past. In the attic, I quiedy open the trunk lid and think about the treasures of the past - some painful, some joyful - but treasures nonetheless. Rain in the basement beats me to the cold hard concrete and I feel suffocated. Rain in the attic has a restful pitter-patter, pitter-patter, as it softly sings, "I love you, I love you, I love you." In the basement, I'm closed off. The windows are darkened and covered with weeds. I cannot see the sun when it does shine forth. In the attic, there is no way to keep out the warm sun of your love as it shines through the leaves on the trees. It makes delightful patterns for my enjoyment. And so, dear God, I ask you to take me from the basement to the attic. I ask for aloneness, I ask for treasures, I ask for soft soothing rain 67.1 2008 Futrell ¯ Pedagogy of Prayer and warm loving sunshine. I ask to feel your love. I do believe., help my lack of belief. Prayer Flows out of Life Situations Whatever method of prayer we use, as body-per-sons in space and time, we must seek to compose our-selves interiorly and, if possible, to choose a place that will help us to be present to the presence of God. We know that our body conditions the state of our con-sciousness. And so it is vital to take the time, perhaps a long time, to compose ourselves before praying: to enter into a deep silence of the body and imagination and feelings. Methods like the Additional Observations in the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola (§§73-86) or the preparations in the old meditation books or yoga or transcendental meditation or Zen or Sadhana can be helpful. The great 19th-century master of prayer Theophane the Recluse described prayer truly as "stand-ing before God with the mind in.the heart." If we are to pray, we must commit ourselves to make time for it: time to calm ourselves down, time to allow God to rise up in our awareness, to become God for us. We must discern the rhythm of prayer that we need at this time in our lives, and we must be faithful to it even when we do not feel like praying. We know that our most essential duties are not always those that we feel like doing. Nevertheless, we do fulfill them because of the importance they have for us, their priority in our lives. The operational proof of what our priorities are is the quality time that we give to them, not what we may verbally affirm about their importance. Time is the most precious possession of human beings, and what we do Review for Religious with our time is the behavioral proof of what we value in our lives. If we really put a high priority on prayer, we regularly give quality time to it. As in human love, there can and should be steadfastness even when we feel dull and lack spontaneity. And, of course, both love and prayer seek imaginative ways to transform routine and revivify themselves. Can We Pray? If we exercise our faith and our creativity and our common sense, we can pray. We can bring ourselves and take time and wait to encounter God. We can look to see whether our hearts have left space for God to come and meet us. For two thousand years the purpose of Christian asceticism has been to make space in our hearts for God to encounter us there. The difficulty of prayer is that it is the entrance into the bottom of our hearts. It places us before the wall of grace and the invisible. This involves going out of our selfish self, which makes prayer so diffi-cult. It is a true purgatory--a purification. This difficulty is overcome only by the Holy Spirit. To consent to pray is to consent to place ourselves before this wall and to wait with faith and hope for God to lower the wall. The lowering of the wall is the progressive coming of God to our deep self. Here only God can overcome. To believe that we have solved the problem ourselves is to show that we have lost the batde. Here, truly, we gain our life only by losing it. Our prayer should lead us to the still point of our being, the root of our existence, the center of our awareness of our unique individuality, where we are touched by the divine creative act and where, in silence and in darkness, we understand that God is God. At this point of our dependence upon God, we find God 67.1 2008 Futrell ¯ Pedagogy of Prayer in a presence that is absence, in an emptiness that is filled with God, in the knowing that is not knowledge but love. This, I think, is the command of God to the psalmist: "Empty yourself out and see that I am God." Descend to the depths of your own being, to the very point where you spring up out of my creative love, and there you will find me. Here God's presence is felt as breaking in on us, breaking down the wall of selfish self-love that limits our encounter with God. We see that this same wall keeps us from truly loving others as Jesus commands us to do, and that it keeps us from hearing and respond-ing to God's word in all the events of our lives. In this prayer we become filled with the light of the Spirit of the risen Jesus, who will illuminate all our experiences and will bring us at last to find God in all things. Often in this prayer we encounter God in his breaking in on us, and we feel no need or inclination to speak, because everything is understood in love. We simply surrender to God in his transforming action on us. But this is not a prayer of inaction. At no time do we feel more fully alive. For some people this is the habitual form of prayer. For others it happens only rarely. In all our prayer we should be listening to God, ready to welcome him, as God sometimes welcomes us, in a moment of great clarity or great joy.5 Notes i For this insight I am indebted to Jesuit psychoanalyst Dr. Denis Vasse, of Lyons, France. 2 "To cqntemplate means raising our eyes to a higher order that challenges us to measure up . Only the heart is high and deep enough to hold this vision." Brother David Steindl-Rast OSB, Gratefulness, the Heart of Prayer (New York: Paulist Press, 1984), p. 64. 3 "The heart in biblical culture, and also in a large part of other cul- Review for Religious tures, is that essential center of personality in which the person stands before God, as the totality of body and soul, as T who is thinking, will-ing, and loving, as the center in which the memory of the past opens up to planning of the future . The significance [of] the heart., reaches the sanctuary of personal self-awareness in which is summarized and condensed the concrete essence of the person, the center in which the individual decides upon himself, in face of others, the world, and God himself." John Paul II, Audience at the Gemelli Clinic, 28 June 1984. 4 "Work should not make us stop praying. But when my work becomes my only prayer, it won't be prayer much longer. Its weight will pull me off center. We can hear it quickly when a clothes dryer spins unevenly. Why can't we hear it when our lives do the same? It may be time to stop and reload. It may be time for nothing but prayer, time to disengage ourselves, to find our center, and to re-engage ourselves from the heart. Then our work will truly be prayer, It will be contemplation in action." Steindl-Rast, Gratefulness, p. 195. 5 Listen to C.S. Lewis, Till We Have Faces, near the end (p. 307): "He is coming . The air was growing brighter and brighter., as if something had set it on fire. Each breath I drew let into me new terror, joy, overpowering sweetness. I was pierced through and through with the arrows of it. I was being unmade. I was no one . The earth and stars and sun, all that was or will be, existed for his sake. And he was coming. The most dreadful, the most beautiful, the only dread and beauty there is, was coming . I cast down my eyes." Personal/Group Reflection Questions 1. Have I had the experience of trying to teach someone to pray? What did I find to be helpful in teaching someone to pray? What obstacles did I experience? 2. What is my favorite way of defining or describing Christian prayer? 3. How do I respond to Brother David Steindl-Rast's question, "Does my prayer make me more prayerful?" 67.1 2008 BRENDAN KNEALE Pray Passionately of we look at Roman liturgical practice as a form f prayer, it does not seem to encourage pray-ing passionately. Of course, there is a good reason for this--the litur~.¢ is a public, not a private, form of prayer. It expects us to bring to its formalities and rituals a preparation of intense personal prayer. Some devout Catholics, perhaps, find rich emotional con-tent in Gregorian chant if they bring to it a suitable background. Also, the Roman Liturgy does include an extensive use of the Psalms, which are full of passion-ate prayers that any of us can find to be deeply mov-ing. Consider such passages as these used in the official Liturgy of the Hours: Cry out with joy to the Lord, all the earth . . . For you my soul is thirsting--my body pines for you . . . My soul shall be filled as with a banquet., my soul clings to you . . . Brendan Kneale FSC, a retired professor from Saint Mary's College of California, is now on the staff of De La Salle Institute; 4403 Redwood Road; Napa, California 94558. His email address is bkneale@dlsi.org Review for Religious Let the faithful rejoice in their glory, shout for joy., let them praise his name with dancing. Tremble, 0 earth, before the Lord . I bow down before your temple, filled with awe. The Lord's voice flashes flames of fire. He sends fire and brimstone on the wicked. No one can escape his hand. Praise him with full voice . Ring out your joy to the Lord. There are dozens of passages like these. The Liturgy cites, also, some of the strong language of St. Paul, who certainly expressed himself with passion. We have intimations of how emotional and intense Christ's own prayer was, notably in the garden and on the cross, culminating in: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Likewise, when he declared that he came to "cast fire on the earth." He no doubt was reflecting the strong feelings of his previous prayer. At Pentecost the Holy Spirit communicated himself with the symbolic "sound of wind and tongues of fire." This ought to stir our emotion, as when we sometimes refer to "fire in the belly." It did so, surely, for canonized saints, many of them known for the intensity of their prayer life. Here, however, it seems fair to ask, "Where is the passion in the wording of the Our Father, the arche-typal prayer Christ left us?" Answer: It is certainly there for people who have no "daily bread," and for those of us acutely aware of our need for a. ~'supersubstantial bread." Similarly, if we are full of-faith and devout sen-sibilities, we will experience a yearning, in the words of the Our Father, for "forgiveness of sins" and a fear of being "led into temptation," and for a strong desire to be "delivered from evil." The same goes for other seem-ingly bland prayers of our tradition. If we but bring our 67.1 2008 Kneale ¯ Pray Passionately true situation to such prayers, they will become quite passionate. In older terminology, it is with "fervor" that we should pray. Later Traditions Many modern religious orders have a community spirituality which translates into language that seems at best to be sentimental rather than passionate. An example can be found in English translations of 17th-century texts on prayer. When one of its masters, St. John Baptist de la Salle, wrote "The Method of Mental Prayer," his language in translation was made to sound pallid. Thus, in English versions, we find him frequently urging us to pray with "sentiments of faith." It does not seem adequate to translate the French sentiment into a mild, neutral, and comfortable English word like "senti-ment." In fact, bilingual dictionaries would have allowed translators to use much stronger alternatives. The question arises: How does one bring passion to prayer? Soldiers in any kind of combat do not have to ask that question. Neither do we--if we let ourselves realize how abruptly death may come for us, if we really think about the greatness and goodness of God, if we realize our guilt, if we are at all sensitive to our inner longings, if our mortality weighs down on us as it should, if we are sensitive to our capacity for the infinite, if we admit a yearning for communion with the saints, if we feel deeply the needs of those for whom we pray, if we are persons of genuine loyalty, if we are aware of our past ingratitude and our utter vulnerability. In other words, as the masters of prayer have always taught, we must prepare for our prayer by realizing how desperate our condition and situation is, how great and good God is, how important prayer is, how linked we Review for Religious are to our fellow human beings. Many such deep con-victions are acts of faith and stem from insights aris-ing- out- of experience, meditation, and study--and, of course, from grace. "The Holy Spirit prays in us." We become a version of "deep calling on deep." After the effect of "cool" literature on prayer, one suspects that the rise of devotion to the Sacred Heart and other devo-tions helped compensate for prayer's lack of warmth, and even coldness, in this world of ours. It is evident that passion invigorates prayer, but also the converse holds. Prayer can stir spiritual pas-sion, which then often takes the form of zeal for various charitable works and also for personal discipline. Unfortunately, sen-timent and shallow many of us, since genuine emotion depends on deep convictions and full realizations about serious things. Where do deep feeling, passion, and genuine love come from? The source is true faith, real conviction, theological insights, realizations stemming from deep meditation--that is, things deep in the mind. There is always, however, a danger of self-deception and of artifi-cially stirred-up shallow feelings, ephemeral sentiments. St. La Salle, mentioned earlier, was a man of feeling. He lived in times when emotions were intense over serious internal church struggles. And he had his own battles with civil authorities and with incomprehension by his contemporaries, clerical and lay, so that his own prayer was challenged at a deeper level than most of us and thus felt more keenly. Where do deep feeling, passion, and genuine love come from? feelings may have to suffice for 67.1 2008 Kneale ¯ Pra~ Pa~ionatel~ Where, for us, do the occasion and quality for pas-sionate prayer come from? They arise from experi-ences eliciting fear, gratitude, desperation . . . feelings which call forth our faith and convictions. At the start of our interior prayer, we often include an introduc-tory exercise: making our situation "real," recalling viv-idly, stirring our faith and hope, gratitude and humility, awakening ourselves from somnolence. Frequently Repeated Prayers Prayers that are frequently repeated should not be perfunctory, but should be recited "once more with feel-ing." There is a danger that prayers like the rosary could plunge us into mindless rote. That is where the ancient admonitions about study and reading can be applied. Prayers like the ~'osary will be infused with emotion if we bring to them a rich background of gospel meditation and theological study. Thus in the rosary such insights may prepare as many as ten ideas or rousing images to accompany our recitation of the ten beads in each decade. Every one of us can become a "vas insigne devotionis," rich in insights that stir our emotions and direct our will. The rosary, then, can be prayed passionately. Of course, to recite vocal prayers poorly is often an act of faith and so has value. St. Thomas Aquinas is supposed to have written somewhere that one differ-ence between rote vocal prayers of petition and atten-tive and involving prayers of petition is not that one is answered and the other is not--rather, if both are prayed with faith and goodwill, one is more consoling than the other. That is one difference. There are oth-ers. A prayer that is passionate is likely to be extended, sincere, satisfying, richer in intention, fortifying of our faith and hope., instead of a routine burden. Review for Religious Dryness There is no such thing in this life as a perpetual emotional high. One experience that the saints have often undergone is spiritual dryness. Sometimes, it seems, such periods are imposed by God as trials, but could it be that sometimes they are self-imposed by our own neglect? If we fail to use the sources of inspiration and energy--such as attention, study, sensitivity, insight, consistency, solitude, detachment--then we can expect aridity. The Language of Prayer Perhaps, looking back at the word "sentiment" and recalling the passionate words of the Psalms, we can say that the language used in prayer is important. Paying attention to the stirring words of the Psalms can bring life back into our prayer. Depending on the occasion, .however, vocalized prayer should vary appropriately: ritualistic or hiero-phantic, informal or personal, intense or calm and reflective, importunate or resigned--adoring, grateful, repetitive, vivid, meditative. We do not want to over-dramatize our lives, but one suspects that prayers of petition, at least, do need heartfelt words--the more passionate the better. In any case we have the promise of St. Paul in Romans 8: "When we cannot choose words in order to pray properly, the Spirit himself expresses our plea in a way that could never be put into words ¯ . . the pleas of the saints expressed by the Spirit are according to the mind of God." 67.1 2008 CLIFFORD STEVENS The Institute of Impracticalities: The Financial Support of Monasteries consecrated life G.K. Chesterton, before he created the Father Brown detective stories, tried his hand at the genre by writing a clever story called "The Club of Queer Trades," a tale of a fraternity of tradesmen who had managed to come up with unusual ways to make a living. In it a man makes his living giving excitement to people who lacked excitement in their lives and adven-ture to those who lacked adventure. He would send them sinister and intriguing messages, or leave strange objects on their doorstep, or send them secret packages, all designed to add some spice to an otherwise humdrum existence. I thought at one time if I had not become a priest I would set up a place called Chesterton Square with a number of odd shops and busi-nesses doing business there: a Bottle Shop, a Kite Unlimited Emporium, and imposingly on Clifford Stevens has written for us at intervals since 1975. His addres~ is Tintern Monastery; EO. Box 910; Kemmerer, Wyoming 83101. Review for Religious one corner of the square an Institute of Impracticalities, which would answer any need that was totally and clearly not practical, such as ordering an elephant for a wedding, or sending a truckload of balloons to a sick child. A monastery is and must be, if it is to be true to its character, a true Institute of Impracticalities. We exist for no "practical" purpose; we are useless, as far as most people are concerned, and there is nothing "practical" that we can mention as our particular achievement. We have to cultivate "unpracticality" almost with genius, or else that particular disease, fatal in some cases, called "practicality" takes over and everything is sacrificed on the altar of "practicality." This has been the bane of monasteries from time immemorial and has been responsible for the eclipse of the monastic life sev-eral times in history. I am thinking particularly of the monastery of Fountains in England, where "practicality" drove peasants off the land, made the monastery some-thing of an economic empire, built sumptuous build-ings, and got the monastery involved in the dynastic and ecclesiastical power struggles of the time. The greatest illusion in the contemplative life is the conviction that the financial support of the monastery is the key problem and the critical concern of community life. This has never been. true. The critical factor in con-templative life is the cultivation of intimacy with God and the fashioning of a pattern of life to enable every single member to do exactly that. As soon as the mere support of the monastery becomes the primary con-cern, "practicality" takes over and Divine Providence goes right out the windows. God blesses the monastery only to the extent that it is an oasis for leisure with God. Then blessings for the support of the life come 67.1 2008 Stevens ¯ The Institute of lmpracticalities in abundance, mysteriously, magnanimously, for God takes care of his genuine lovers, and they are never in want--for anything. The basic principle for the financial support of a monastery is this: Will the God for whom we have forsaken the world of business and commerce and the piling up of even legitimate wealth be any less gener-ous with us than the stock market and margin of profit would have been if we had devoted our lives to that? There is one answer: God will not only second our efforts by the action of his prov-idence; he will anticipate our needs. Those who doubt this usually are willing to sacrifice something of solitude, something of silence, something of contemplative tranquillity, and something of intimacy with God for so-called "practical" reasons. God usually gives them what they want, but that is all. The deeper gift for which they have forsaken all is denied them, for the simple reason that they have lost the hunger for it. A strange kind of practicality. The ancient monks made it clear that the treasurer of the monastery was the Providence of God. This does not mean that they did not work or made no provision for the morrow. It just means that they were not depen-dent upon their own efforts: even their own efforts had to be blessed by God. They simply did .not depend on bank accounts or huge commercial enterprises to sup-port their monastic life. God's providence, and their own efforts under that providence, were their only security. This is certainly "impractical" as far as the normal business of human life is concerned, but the monk is not in the normal business of living. He has made God his companion and his passion, and, while he works hard Review for Relig4ous to support his monastic life, he is not dependent upon the "economy." Monks work hard, but simply are not concerned about where their money will come from. It comes, when it is needed, from their own labor or from the action of Providence. As a matter of fact, the monk has become a monk to be free from those kinds of concerns, and, if he wants to get involved in them, God usually lets him have his way, but the intimacy with God that is - the heart of his existence and his chief preoccupation slips from his fingers. His hope and expectation are not really in God, but in the margin of profit, in the interest on stocks and bonds, or in the sale of the next crop. The treasury of Divine Providence never runs out, and God richly supplies his lovers with everything. Those who doubt that have all kinds of arguments to the con-trary, but what they do not have is that closeness to him for which they became monks in the first place. In this day of huge commercial enterprises, financial scandals in religion, and the juggling of stock portfolios and investment opportunities, we have to steer clear of anything that resembles the placing of our security in money. Every monastery needs money, and the financial support of the monastery has to be provided for. But the financial support of a monastery comes from God and his providence and not from the juggling of investments and the margin of profit. When a monastery truly needs money, it comes in bundles, from the most unexpected Monks work hard, but simply are not concerned about where their moneywill come from. 67.1 2008 Stevens ¯ The Institute of lmpracticalities places, and there is no need to buy mailing lists and carry on massive mail solicitations to accomplish this. If there is any choice between depending on a fat bank account and depending on Divine Providence, there is no doubt where the choice would have to be. Certainly not in the bank account, which can fail for all kinds of reasons, but Divine Providence never fails. We have only to look around us to see the disas-ters that occur from an opposite conviction. The clas-sical image is that of the wheeling-and-dealing Father Urban in J.E Powers's Morte d'Urban, who is convinced that hobnobbing with the rich and mighty is the sur-est way to. ensure the prosperity of his congregation. Or the tragic monsignor in John Gregory Dunne's True Confessions who found himself embroiled in scandals and political intrigues unworthy of his office because of his concern about money for the "good of the church." As Paul Evdokimov hasindicated, certain biblical truths get lost in centuries of overgrowth, and from time to time we have to be recalled to the startling dyna-mism of the gospel. It is no visionary enthusiasm that brings religious to their utter dependence upon Divine Providence and reminds them of God's loving care. But they forget that, as redeemed human beings, they are enfolded in his love, and that his benevolence is the very basis of their creation. What they need to recall is a profound metaphysical and theological truth: everything in human life is part of the philanthropy of God, and it is by the exercise of that philanthropy that the inacces-sible God makes himself accessible to our experience. From the generosity of the Godhead comes every gift with which we are endowed and every benefit of our human condition. That includes the margin of profit and whatever benefit we gain from economic prosperity. Review for Religious Even those who do not depend upon Divine Providence are dependent upon it. It is simply human shortsighted-ness that does not see the beneficent God behind the human drama. The wisdom of the saints ends up being the most practical of impracticalities. Some Texts "In building, we need not act as people in the world do. They first get the money and then begin to build, but we must do iust the opposite. We will begin to build and then expect to receive what is necessary. The Lord God will not be outdone in generosity." -- St. Alphonsus Liguori "The more you abandon to God the care of tem-poral things, the more he will take care to provide for all your needs; but if, on the contrary, you try to supply all your own needs, Providence will allow you to con-tinue to do just that, and then it may well hhppen that even the necessities will be lacking, God thus reproving you for want of faith and reliance on him." -- St. John Baptist de La Salle "Now is God not able to send, perhaps tomorrow, sacks of money to my door?" -- St. Camillus de Lellis And see Paul Evdokimov, The Sacrament of Love (Crestwood, N.Y.: St. Vladimir Seminary Press, 1985). 67.1 2008 M. REGINA VAN DEN BERG Enclosure and Other Ways to Widen One's Horizons Tfte practice and rule of enclosure in the convent is en misunderstood, by those who oppose it and those who defend it. It is misunderstood as a way of keeping the world and its evils out, of limiting contact with the world. Enclosure actually succeeds in doing quite the opposite: it enlarges the world. Rather than keeping the world out, it confronts us with it. Rather than keeping evil out, it forces us to face it. Rather than limiting our world, it expands our horizons. It is not only enclosure that expands our horizons: other prac-tices of the religious life do so too. The other practices include common meals, prayers, and recreation, limited use of television, internet, telephone, and email, and also limited travels and visitors as well. The reader may think I am playing with words, for it seems paradoxical at best that all the above-men- M. Regina van den Berg FSGM taught philosophy at Seminary Rolduc in Roermond, the Netherlands. She recently moved to Mater Ecclesiae Convent; 4510 Lindell Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63108. Review for Religious tioned practices serve to widen our horizons. It is" not my intention, however, to play with words, but rather to point out a common mistaken notion that "experiencing the world" and "widening one's horizons" are incom-patible with enclosure and other such practices. In his essay "On Certain Modern Writers and the Institution of the Family," in Heretics, G.K. Chesterton makes the essential distinctions upon which I base this article.1 Chesterton uses the distinction to defend the institu-tion of the family; I apply it to the religious life. When people say that they want to "experience the world" or "widen their horizons," they commonly mean that they want to increase their knowledge of the world and the things in it. They want to do this by learning or by experiencing, virtually or firsthand. It is nearly super-fluous to point out that modern technology enables us to learn and experience all manner of things with the greatest ease and speed. We can experience the world in so many ways: by traveling, by looking at internet sites, by watching television, by communicating via the internet with people we have never met face-to-face, by joining clubs. It is obvious that enclosure and the other religious-life practices I mentioned allow at best a limited experience of the world in this sense. These various experiences of the world, however, have some common elements. For one, the knowledge we gain and the experiences we have often do not affect us as persons. They do not make demands on us as per-sons. We, after all, select the experience we want to have: the persons we want to be with, the places we want to go. We choose people who are agreeable to us, and when we travel we want to relax, not be challenged. Perhaps we look on the internet or watch television to learn, but often just to be entertained. However inter- 67.1 2008 van den Berg, * Enclosure and Other Ways to Widen One's Horizons However interesting the people we meet on journeys or through the internet, they may ieave our inner world untouchedl esting the people we meet on journeys or through the internet, they may leave our inner world untouched. They do not make us grow in Christian self-knowl-edge. When people truly want a life-changing event, Chesterton says, they could effect "a much more roman-tic and even melo-dramatic change if [they] jumped over the wall into the neighbor's garden. The con-sequences would be bracing.''2 We go on vacations or browse the inter-net because we Want a "change," because we want to escape from the everyday, but escapes may blind us to the here and now. The internet provides a fine example. How easily we become so immersed in it that we lose all sense of time, of the people around us, of duties awaiting us. Analogies limp, but this experience is like taking a photograph. To get as much as possible in the picture, we not only use a wide-angle lens, but we also back up. We become observers. Everything becomes small, and details disappear. There is a lot in thepicture, but we see very little. We do the same when we try to know and experience endlessly new things. Enclosure and the other religious-life practices zoom in, so to speak, on a select portion of the world. This new focus enables us to look more closely at the objects in the picture. We do not step back as observers to take the picture, but we get a vivid three-dimensional picture of a select part of the world by being a part of it ourselves. In a Review for Religious limited environment we begin to see in a different way. Confronted by the reality of the here and now, we begin to see details. We notice more of what is there to be seen. With enclosure and the other religious practices, we find ourselves in a special environment with companions we did not choose. They become real sisters of mine, and I cannot merely observe or ignore them; I must live with them. They are not all like me, even if we share a common vision. Some are of a different temperament than I am; I am irritated by some of their peculiarities. Enclosure makes me live with them, and in learning to love them I am enlarging my world. Once we are at home in our limited environment, the reality that is present to us, it encourages us to notice many details: the sunshine on my face as I sit here, the spider crawling up the wall, the sister next door coughing. Then we can respond to the details: to be grateful for the sunshine, to marvel at the spider, to see if my coughing sister may need something. The present reveals itself as fascinating once we see it from up close. Enclosure does not keep the evil things of the world out. Quite the contrary: in the wideness of the enclo-sure, evil has plenty of room to raise its head. I suspect I am not the only one who thought that my congrega-tion should be grateful that I was deigning to enter the community. Being so used to the company of people of like character and inclination, I had no idea that I could be anything but kind--until I was confronted with sisters who were quite unlike me. Then I began to become humbly grateful that the congregation accepted even someone like me. Those who think that enclo-sure somehow forms and preserves a comfortable space 67.1 2008 van den Berg ¯ Enclosure and Other Ways to W'uten One's Horizons where like-minded people can indulge their whim for a lifetime of silence have never lived in a religious com-munity. Enclosure is demanding. Enclosure has no intention of satisfying selfish desires for privacy, for a place where we can escape from the world. It is rather the case that we impose enclosure upon ourselves because we know our human weakness. Knowing that we sometimes would like to escape from the demands of the enclosed world, we bind ourselves to it as self-protection for our weak moments. There is a sense, of course, in which enclosure creates a certain "place apart," but not in the sense of privacy. Privacy in the sense of "my space" would not be compatible with the vows and total surrender of religious life. But the silent place apart is intended to widen horizons, to attune us to the reality of God's presence. As an aid to communion with him, enclosure widens our horizons beyond our imagining--into the wideness of his eternal being! If readers have agreed with everything so far, they may still maintain that enclosure, even if it opens the door to the world, still seems a terribly boring enter-prise. Imagine a life without travel, without television, without internet, without a change of companions. Is this not a recipe for boredom? At least, the reader may surmise, the apostolic religious still have the excitement of the apostolate, the possibility of being transferred, but the contemplative nuns must even forgo that. Add to enclosure the regular routine of the religious life, and the recipe for a dull life seems foolproof. But here, too, Chesterton makes an excellent point. People travel far and wide in search of adventure, but when they do so they by definition fail. They fail because "adventure" refers to something that happens to us (peradventure, Review for Religious by chance), not to something that we attain or that we can find. When we plan a vacation, we know what to expect and plan it often to the smallest detail. But in everyday life in enclosure, one never knows what to expect--here is adventure! And, to quote Chesterton once more, "the thing which keeps life romantic and full of fiery possibilities is the existence of these great plain limitations which force all of us to meet the things we do not like or do not expect.''3 Not only are there two divergent ways of experienc-ing the world, but, I maintain, one is better and truer than the other. The first way of widening our horizon often fails to touch and change us as persons. It tends to make us observers of life, not participants; we avoid the challenges that help us grow. It can more accurately be described as an escape from the world. The truer way to experience the world, the way of enclosure, widens our horizons and opens us up to the drama of good and evil, to the graces of the present moment. This reality is demanding and life-changing. Enclosure, the common life, a~d the limited use of media and communication all serve to reveal and enlarge our world--but not by logical necessity. People can enlarge their world through travels and narrow their world in the enclosure, but those are the exceptions rather than the rule. Those who run into the enclosure to escape from the world discover all too soon that they have run in the wrong direction. Their escape from the world is to be found elsewhere: in the often world-nar-rowing experiences of the media and in other self-selected experiences that do not demand much from us. It is not surprising that the practice of enclosure is paradoxical, that by limiting physical space and limiting our experiences we in fact enlarge our experience. The 67.1 2008 van den Berg * Enclosure and Otber Ways to V~ulen One's Horizons Christian faith is founded on paradox. Through Jesus' death we receive life. Through the seemingly world-nar-rowing experience of the enclosure and other religious practices, the horizons of our hearts and minds can be expanded to God and to his concerns and to his world. And that, precisely, is the point of enclosure. The Weaver Weave the threads. Brown for the earth, Red for the fire, Blue for the air, Silver for the water. Weave the threads. Brown for humus, Red for passion, Blue for reason, Silver for the spirit. Weave the threads. Brown the Father, Red for His Son, Blue His Mother, Silver the Comforter. Weave the threads. Fibre of God. Fibre of men. Fibre of life. Weave into harmony, One in the Cosmic dance. Sister Margaret Anne OHP Review for Reli~ous ANTHONY MALAVIARATCHI Religious Brotherhood Today I n attempting to say what it means to be a religious rother today, we must be clear about what broth-erhood is. To discover afresh the most effective way of being a religious brother today, we must look at the tradition of brotherhood in the church. The brotherhood of Jesus and his ordinary follow-ers (Mt 23:8) and the brotherhood of Jesus and his spe-cially chosen disciples, the apostles (Mk 3:13-15), are already two strands of brotherhood at the very outset. Both were meant for the proclamation of the kingdom of God. The brotherhood of the first Christian com-munity in Jerusalem was~ meant to give witness to Jesus' resurrection. The brotherhood of religious life started with cenobitical life. The lone hermits became com-munities of brothers receiving spiritual guidance from abbas (fathers, animators). This kind of brotherhood Anthony Malaviaratchi CSSR, a former theology professor and for-mator now doing retreat work, presented this paper at a brothers' convention in Sri Lanka. His address is Santa Maria; George E. Silva Ma~atha; Kandy, Sri Lanka. anthonymalavi@yahoo.com 67.1 2008 Malaviaratcbi ¯ Religlou~ Brotherhood Today was making a united and concerted effort to live the gospel radically. Brotherhood in History In the period that followed, brotherhood began a new phase. Penitents entered "monasteries" and gradu-ally became members or at least began to live the life of the community. There seems to be no historical connection between th~se "penitent brothers" and-the stream of brothers popularly known as "teaching broth-ers." In the 17th century St. John Baptist de la Salle brought together a group of teachers to educate the badly neglected children of poor working-class families. So did St. Marcellin Champagnat in. the 19th century. Disillusioned by the growing secularism in French soci-ety and its impact on youth, the founder of the Marist brothers established schools for the underprivileged. The Brothers of Charity came together to care for poor workmen, the sick, and the mentally handicapped. Brotherhood: A Prophetic Lifestyle Teaching the poor and marginalized is not an exci~- ing apostolate today. It does not hit the headlines of even Catholic newspapers. That is because so many religious congregations have been doing it for three hundred years. At their origin the education of the underprivileged was simply not being taken care of by anybody. When Edmund Rice, founder of the Christian Brothers, began his teaching, the education of Catholics was illegal in Ireland. Religious life as a prophetic move-ment was reincarnated through works of mercy. The brothers, influenced by St. Vincent de Paul's Daughters of Charity, did what the society of the time failed or refused to do. They brought a strange but nevertheless Review for Religious refreshing message that drew the attention of the world as Mother Teresa did in our times. That was the secret of their success. Congregations of brothers, therefore, need to ask: How can we be prophetic today? What must we do to convey God's message afresh? What is it that society refuses to do today and would convey a prophetic mes-sage if we did it? Today many works of mercy, including teaching, are no longer prophetic. Many others do them now. Governments have undertaken the tasks of teaching, nursing, running orphanages and technical schools, and so forth. ~ Congregations of brothers, But we need to remember that it was the example of religious con-gregations dedi- - cated to serving the earthly well-being of those in need that paved the way for governments and other secular organizations to take up welfare services. therefore, need to ask: How can we be prophetic today ? Institutions and Status Brothers' institutions do excellent work, much appreciated especially by the laity. But the institutions give the impression of material well-being, security, and status, especially in the third world. Brotherhood, of course, has less status than the priesthood, which is one of the reasons why brothers have fewer vocations. Nevertheless, brothers' institutions do have status. To all appearances the vast majority of those who want to join our communities come not because they have 67.1 2008 Malaviaratcbi * Religious Brotherhood Today heard Christ's call to radical discipleship but because they are attracted by the status and security of the insti-tutions. In factl congregations that do not have institu-tions have few vocations. Widespread unemployment and lack of talent for modern cutthroat competition seem to be the underlying reasons for the many "voca-tions" in the third world. Unfortunately, in too many instances the enjoyment of status and security continues to be the lifelong hidden motivation. As their numbers dwindle, the brothers are being for+ed to give up their apostolic commitments one by one. For various reasons such as pressure from bishops and priests, parents, and old boys [alumni] and because of understandable emotional attachments, the most prestigious institutions will be the last to be given up. This will worsen the image of the brothers and con-sequently the quality of the vocations they get. Since many hold on to their status and security, it is most unlikely that radical measures will be taken. And so the faster religious life in its present form dies, the better it is. For then God will be able to raise radical disciples for Christ from the stones of the earth (Mt 3:9). Congregations, Too, Die Part of the crisis of religious life is the probability, if not the certainty, of dying out and entering the annals of history. The reality of death looms over all reality except over the only Real One. Heaven and earth must pass away, the church must pass away (Rv 21:1-2, Heb 12:22). Even the kingdom of Christ must pass away into the kingdom of the Father (1 Co 15:24-28). If all this is true, then our congregations can hardly be eternal. We must pass away when we have adequately served God's eternal designs. If so, our dying as a group, Review for Religious with all its glory and achievements, will also be a ser-vice. Even the thought of it can be a painful, if not traumatic, experience. It is surely a historical moment when God calls us to bring our self-offering to a climax by embracing his plans in the darkness of faith. Like our Divine Master, we too may be called to give life to oth-ers by an unquali-fied submission to God's designs. In the glorious days of the brotherhood in the church, our faith may not have been so much in God as in our numbers, institutions, and achievements. Our group's willing submission to God's unknown ways will bring life to the world in an abundance which our congregational achievements could never even dream of matching. The history of salvation unequiVocally offers all believers a planofaction in time of crisis. The Remnant The history of salvation unequivocally offers all believers a plan ~of action in time of crisis. It may be new to us who have got used to large numbers, but it is a beaten path in salvation history. The faithful were often led by God to negotiate crises by means of the Remnant. The word remnant indicates how great the destruc-tion of God's people will be. "Only a remnant will remain" (Is 10:22). Surely Christ had in mind a remnant when he called his disciples "little flock" (Lk 12:32) and when he said "Many are called but few are chosen." In the Scriptures the remnant is a tiny minority of those 67.1 2008 Malaviaratchi ¯ Religious Brotherhood Today leading religious lives in the eyes of God. These few continue to believe and remain faithful in the midst of widespread infidelity. The concept shows punishment for sin and God's faithfulness, which remains untouched by human infidelity. The faith in the remnant is an essential aspect of hope in the Bible. The Remnant Today If, as religious, brothers are to have hope, they must first realize that it is to run institutions that large num-bers are needed, whereas to give witness to the gospel of Jesus Christ a few are more than enough. These few must turn back to their founders and rediscover that it is exclusively for Christ's gospel that they were brought together in the first place. Second, they need to adopt a prophetic lifestyle and thus become clearly visible signs: Their lifestyle will be visible: ¯ (1) if they have a community lifestyle that is tangibly religious, that is, God-centered with a strong contemplative dimension. ¯ (2) if they live this life not in legal rigidity but in evangelical fidelity. This needs special attention since post-Vatican II freedom has often resulted in Western permissiveness. As a part of this evangelical fidelity, those who fail to live this life should be asked to leave whenever the superior, with the com-munity, comes to that conclusion. ¯ (3) if they embrace a clearly visible life of poverty, that is,can external life of utter simplicity. In every reform movement within reli-gious life, there has been a return to radical simplicity. Our world in the clutches of consumerism is crying for a modern-day Francis of Assisi. ¯ (4) if they engage in a service that others do not do and reach out to people whom society does not care for. In this way, small groups of brothers will create a Review for Religious counterculture which the Union of Superiors General has described as one with "passion for Christ and pas-sion for humanity." They will give prophetic witness to the spiritual dimension of human life in a world of increasing secularism, to brotherly lives and work in a world of increasing individualism, to evangelical sim-plicity in a world of increasing consumerism, to God's preferential love for those that society does not care about in a world of increasing self-centeredness. In a word, religious brotherhood will be prophetic through and through, a transparently radical form of discipleship of Christ. Zen°Poem for Thomas Merton For Brother Anthony Weber OCSO Abbey of the Genesee A white cloud Near a picket fence Close to a white rose, Walked a white-habited Trappist Praying an ivory beaded rosary Ignoring a cawing crow Noticing a disappearing cloud; Flower petals falling, The fence rotting; His scapular, dusty With prayers ascending, Approaching darkness Amid a forested hermitage. William J. Bly 73 67.1 2008 VINCENT GENOVESI Room for Sacramental Reconciliation? spiritual supports We would quickly recognize the mockery made of love were lovers to ask each other only "What must I do to avoid hurting you?" We expect lovers to share a deeper ambition: "What more can I do to show my love for you?''l The same is true of our relationship with God. When our commitment to our spir-itual and moral growth is seen as a response to God's invitation to love, it would be rather insulting to play at love and revel in testing love's limits. As honest and true lovers, we do not spend time anxiously determining how far we can go before our love relationship with God is strained to the breaking point. Instead, our earnest desii'e is to discover how we can foster that relationship. It is in this context that we come to under-stand more fully the meaning of human sinful- V'mcent Genovesi sJ is professor of theology and campus minister at Saint Joseph's University; 261 City Avenue; Merion Station, Pennsylvania 19066. vgenoves@sju.edu Review for Religious ness. Sin is best understood not so much as an isolated act, but rather as a relational reality. It is deliberately breaking our love relationship with God (mortal sin) or knowingly straining that relationship (venial sin). Of course, our love relationship with God is played out largely in our human relationships. St. John reminds us that, if we profess to love God while failing to love our neighbor, we are liars; we cannot love God, whom we have never seen, if we do not love the neighbors whom we see every day (1 Jn 4:20). It is important, too, that we remember the testimony of human experience--that any love relationship can suffer from thoughtless neglect and eventually die without our notice. To grow as faithful Christians, we must ultimately make decisions for ourselves, but it is folly to believe we can or should make all decisions simply on our own, without any help. Yes, we entrust our moral life to the guidance of our conscience, provided, of course, that we have first honestly, carefully, and prayerfully sought to inform our conscience properly. Even when we do this, however, we do not always live as we know we should. We get off track, and it becomes helpful or even neces-sary to seek guidance, encouragement, and exhortation. At times like these the sacrament of reconciliation can offer assistance, especially when we are not in regular dialogue with a spiritual director. Behind Catholicism's centuries-old practice of sacramental confession, there is a wisdom whose depth can be more appreciated in light of Vatican Council II's theological insights and psychology's contribution to a fuller understanding of the human person. Still, many sincere Catholics, even priests and religious, question the usefulness or neces-sity of the rite of reconciliation. Such questioning must be addressed. 67.1 2008 Genovesi * Room for Sacramental Reconciliation? Doing Wrong versus Sinning As background for our discussion, it helps to recall that Catholics are expected to confess serious or mor-tal sins at least once a year.2 Significantly, the accus-ing is done by ourselves. ("Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.") Sins are committed only by sinners--people who freely decide to live in various ways that they know to be hurtful to their own well-being and/or the well-being of others, and so must judge themselves to be unloving and in the wrong. In acknowledging that entering into sin requires both knowledge and freedom on our part, Catholic tradition teaches that no one sins by accident--just as no one truly loves by accident. Both to love and to sin are choices or decisions. Interestingly, St. Thomas Aquinas did not think it likely that persons who are honestly trying to live as good Christians would easily or frequently rupture their love relationship with God by choosing to sin seriously: "Although grace is lost by a single act of mortal sin, it is not, however, easily lost. For the person in grace does not find it easy to perform such an act because of a contrary inclination." Aquinas means that it is pre-cisely our love for God and others that will make it difficult for us to sin, or deliberately do anything that would put our love relationship in jeopardy.3 In light of Aquinas's teaching, and in keeping with the true nature of love, we may conclude that, although it is possible to sin mortally in one particular act, it is not always a simple matter to isolate that act. It is not likely, in other words, that we would sin mortally in an act that is totally out of our character, or in an act that we have not predisposed ourselves toward. Rather, our relation-ship of love for God and others will probably change and deteriorate before there is any outright rupturing of Review for Religious the union, which is why we must be all the more atten-tive to the daily responsibilities of love. In essence, all sins of commission are expressions of "the one great sin of omission, failure to love.''4 While this failure offends God, we too suffer as a result of our sinfulness insofar as we come to find ourselves within the narrow confines of self-centeredness. It is a confinement that brings with it a death penalty, for in failing to love we become members of the living dead (1 Jn 3:14-15). Thomas Aquinas acknowledges the human destructiveness of sin when he says that sin is indeed an offense against God, but that "God is offended only by those things that we do against our own true welfare.''5 Although:.some of our actions may be undeniably hurtful and wrong, our tradition reminds us that we are not always or n, ecessarily morally guilty of sinning in doing these things. Indeed, the Catechism of the Catholic Church notes that "imputability and responsi-bility for an action can be diminished or even nullified by ignorance, inadvertence, duress, fear, habit, inordinate attachments, and other psychological or social factors" (§1735). A similar idea appears later in the Catechism: "Unintentional ignorance can diminisl~ or even remove the imputability of a grave offense . The promptings of feelings and passions can also diminish the voluntary and free character of the offense, as can external pres-sures or pathological disorders" (§ 1860). We do well to All sins of commission are expressions of ",the one great sin of omission, failure to love." 67.1 2008 Genovesi * Room for Sacramental Reconciliation? remember, however, that if because of our insensitivity, lack of awareness, or curtailed freedom we are not guilty of sin when doing something that is in fact hurtful and wrong, we have no cause for self-satisfaction and com-placency. The less sensitive, aware, and free we are, the less we are fully human. Therefore, whatever stands in our lives as an obstacle to our free commitment in love is to be seen as something to overcome in our growth toward maturity as human beings and as Christians. In no way should this obstacle be relished as excusing us from sin, because the sad truth is that even without sin we may regrettably have done something hurtful to our-selves and others and are all too able to do so again. Three Reasons for this Sacrament In light of what it means to be a sinner--knowingly and freely failing or refusing to love God and others--it is clear that it is not the role of the priest-confessor, nor is it within his power, to determine definitively whether the penitent has or has not sinned, or how .serious that sin may be. In fact, no human being can rightly call another human being a sinner because reading another person's mind and heart is the prerogative of God alone. Thus the Catechism of the Catholic Church states that, "although we can judge that an act is in itself a grave offense, we must entrust judgment of persons to the justice and mercy of God" (§1861). And so it does us all good to remember that "God does not see as man sees; man looks at appearances but God looks at the heart" (1 S 16:7). Why, then, encourage the sacrament of rec-onciliation? I offer three reasons: the social nature of life and sin, the incarnational dimension of our Catholic tradition, and the moral growth that comes from hum-bly taking possession of our sinfulfiess. Review for Religious The Social Nature of Life and Sin: We need a deeper sense today of the social implications of our sinfulness. No sin is totally private, because in sinning we produce a change within ourselves that invariably influences our dealings with others. Thus no sin really remains "secret"; its effects will somehow leave a trail. Furthermore, whenever we hurt someone, we also hurt all those, including God, who love and care about that person. This means that an appropriate expres-sion of our sor-row should include seeking forgiveness and admitting publicly that our sinfulness has alienated or distanced us from both God and our neighbors. T.he sacrament of reconciliation serves this purpose, for through our encounter with the priest, who is both God's servant-representative to penitents and the people's minister before God, we testify to our desire to be reintegrated into the community of God's love and the company of his people. It is possible that appredation of the social nature of sin would be enhanced were parishes to pro-vide communal penance services more frequently. Catholicism's Incarnational Dimension: Moreover, pre-cisely as human beings who live as body-spirits, it is tremendously helpful for us to incarnate, "flesh out" or "enact," our sorrow and our need for forgiveness through recourse to sacramental confession. In addi-tion, God wants to "enact" his forgiveness of us through Whenever we hurt someone, we aiso hurt all those, including God, wh~; love and care " about that person. 67.1 2008 Genovesi ¯ Room for Sacramental Recondliation? the priest's guidance and comfort. And so, just as Christ puts flesh on our Father's love for us, so the words of absolution put flesh on Christ's forgiveness and mercy. Fortunately, too, I think, many priests today are deeply sensitive to the essentially social and incarnational dimensions of Christian living. As a result, in assign-ing a sacramental penance, they ask penitents to move beyond simple recitation of formal prayers and to seek reconciliation with God and neighbor through spe

Issue 48.3 of the Review for Religious, May/June 1989. ; R~z,.'n~w vor R~.t~3~oos (ISSN 0034-639X) is publishcd bi-monthly at St. Louis University by thc Mis- ¯ souri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus; Editorial Office: 3601 Lindcll Blvd. Rm. 428: SI. l.x~uis. MO 63108-3393. Sccond-class postagc paid at St. Lxmis MO. Single copies $3.00. Subscriptions: $12.00 pcr year: $22.00 for two years. Other countries: for surface mail. add U.S. $5.00 per year; for airmail, add U.S. $20.00 per year. For subscription orders or changc of address, write: R~,.'u~w voa R~t.~Gous: P.O. Box 6070: Duluth. MN 55806. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to Rv:vtv:w v(m REI.I(;IOtJS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. David L. Fleming, S.J. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Editor Associate Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors Ma\'/June 1989 Volume 48 Number 3 Manuscripts, books fnr review and correspnndence with the editor should be sent to REvtEw wm Rr:t,t(;mt~s; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. la~uis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 l~eRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709-1193. Back issues and reprints shnuld be nrdered from R~:\'t~:w vo~ R~:~,nntms; 3601Lindell Blvd.; St. la~uis, MO 63108-3393. "Out nf print" issues are available frnm University Micrnfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major pnrtion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Snciety fnr the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. PRISMS . Color plays an important role in our human lives. Before modem psy-chological studies were done about color and its effect upon our human psyche, the Church emphasized color to highlight liturgical seasons and to enhance individual feast-day celebrations. Both the colors for deco-rating altar, tabernacle, and sanctuary and the colors for priestly vest-ments and stoles conveyed a mood or feeling of the season or feast. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS over the past ten years has distinguished its is-sues within any one volume by color. Willy-nilly, whether by foresight or only upon reflection, color for us, too, tends to have a certain sym-bolic relationship to the seasonal and liturgical placement of an issue. An obvious point can be made with the blue cover of this issue--a blue which is associated with Mary, Mother of God and Mother of the Church, and with her special identification with the month of May. In more recent times, the popular place of Mary in the devotional lives of Catholics has dimmed. The Vatican II renewal of our liturgy and sacramental celebrations necessarily focused our attention and re-education upon the central mysteries of our faith-life. Devotions in their myriad forms of litanies, novenas, vigils or holy hours, and various other pious practices--whether in honor of Mary or of any of the saints-- naturally received less attention during this period. Our time and ,our en-ergies were being re-directed so that we could recapture the Eucharistic celebration and the other celebrations of sacraments with all the fervor and participation that marked our popular devotions. It sometimes appeared that, with popular devotions less emphasized, Mary and the saints were also losing their place in Catholic life. Instead, this has been a time of nurturing fresh growth, with new insights and em-phases to invigorate and renew our faith-lives. The recent Marian year stands as a proclamation of the renewed understanding of Mary's place in the life of the Christian faithful. In this issue, we look through four different prisms at Mary. The first article is "Mary in Contemporary Culture" by Father Stan Parmisano, O.P. Just as Mary has played a distinctive role in the various ages of the Church, for example, in the "lady" ideal of the Middle Ages culture, so we need to ask how our relation to Mary facilitates our Christian re-sponse to.the issues and values prevalent in culture today. The author 321 399 / Review for Religious, May-June 1989 stimulates our own thinking about the hidden ways in which Mary might be said to be prevalent in our culture. The second article in this issue is "Through Mary" by Ms. Hilda Montalvo. As wife, mother, and teacher, Ms. Montalvo calls us all into a personal reflection upon what the dogmas about Mary mean to us. She points the way to seeing how Marian dogmas are necessarily Christian dogmas, helping us to clarify our own relationship with God and to en-rich the meaning of our human lives. Sister Mary Eileen Foley, R.G.S., writes the third article on Mary, raising the question in her title, "Reflections on Mary, Bridge to Ecu-menism?" In view of an existing Reformation tradition in which the honor given to Mary continues to divide Roman and Eastern Catholic and Orthodox Christian from the majority of other Christian churches, Sis-ter Mary Eileen suggests ways of seeing how a new understanding of Mary may well be in our day a true ecumenical bridge. The fourth article allows us all to pursue further at our leisure the most recent writings on Mary. Father Thomas Bourque, T.O.R., pro-vides us with a selected bibliography of writings about Mary which have been published between the time of Paul VI's exhortation, Devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary, and John Paul II's encyclical, Mother of the Redeemer. Hopefully this compact bibliography can serve as a helpful resource for a fresh and renewed understanding of Mary's role in the lives of Christian peoples. Finally, I will note that in a newly added section to our Book and Cassette Reviews area, called "For the Bookshelf," we have briefly noted the contents of a few books about Mary just recently published. I hope that you will find the occasional addition of this section to Re-views a help in highlighting those recently published books, which we want to note and can often group around certain themes or issues. David L. Fleming, S.J. Mary In Contemporary Culture Stan Parmisano, O.P. Father Stan Parmisano, O.P., is Regent of Studies for the Western Dominican Prov-ince. He teaches at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, California in the area of Religion and the Arts. His address is 5877 Birch Court; Oakland, California 94618. ~ have been asked to specify the difference Mary, the Mother of Jesus, makes or can make in our contemporary culture. Let me first propose some principles, or basic thinking, that may help toward a fruitful dis-cussion of the complex of issues and subjects involved in the question. Afterwards, we may consider some of these particulars in terms of Mary and her possible role within them. We think of the presence or absence of Mary, as of Jesus, in terms of visibility or of imaginable or intelligible content. Thus if there is a dearth of "thinking" about Mary or of images of her, we would say that she is absent in our time; on the contrary, we would say that she was pre-sent in former times, especially in the medieval and early renaissance worlds, when she was quite "visible" in the content of theology, art, architecture, poetry, music. But there is another kind of presence: invis-ible, unconscious, the presence of form rather than content, the kind of presence we are asked to look for, say, in non-representational art or in music, or in poetry where the music or rhythm precedes idea and image and helps create them. t This is a presence of thrust, of dynamic, of spirit ¯ . . like that of the Spirit of God (ruach Elohim) hovering over the yet unformed waters of chaos and warming them toward visibility and life. I want to suggest that perhaps Mary is present here and there in our time in this last manner, and that we should strive to promote her more universal presence in this direction as well as in that of visible content. In fact, this is the direction in which we should seek to define culture 323 324 / Review for Religious, May-June 1989 itself. Culture is not a matter of any one specific content or subject or activity nor of all taken en masse. Rather, it is the inherited dynamism or spirit or form that produces each of them in all their various nuances, though it itself is affected and reshaped by them.z The same is true with regard to God and Jesus: it is not so much the content of our thought about them, not the images we have of them that is telling, but what un-derlies these, beyond thought and image, inspiring and shaping the con-tent of our belief. I would regard Mary in a similar way. In the earliest Church there was not, perhaps, much content or visibility of Mary, at least when com-pared to Jesus and his male disciples, to Paul and his entourage. But, to borrow an image from one of her later lovers, I would suggest that she was there from beginning to end as "atmosphere," as "world-mothering air, air wild," as form or spirit shaping the emerging thought and action of the Church.3 Certainly it was in her modest context, her "atmosphere," that Christ was preserved from mere myth and acknowl-edged as substantially and earthily human (so Paul's almost casual aside: "born of a woman"). By the late Middle Ages and early Renaissance that spirit had blossomed into a fullness of content. Then that content be-gan to harden till in some instances and locales it quenched the moving spirit and became identified with Mary. And could it be that Vatican II tried to recover her spirit, the "form" of Mary? If so, we must not mis-take what it had to say about Mary for the fullness of Mary but, with its beginnings, refocus on the thrust of Mary in our time and beyond. In speaking of Mary's presence in this way I would hope to suggest another presence, that of the Holy Spirit. Saint Maximilian Kolbe spoke boldly of Mary as the quasi-incarnation of the Holy Spirit, emphasizing the latter part of this hyphenation. Since then, less venturesome theolo-gians have accentuated the quasi.4 In any case few Catholic theologians will deny Mary's special and intimate relationship with the Spirit. They go hand in loving hand, indissolubly Wedded--not only because they were cooperatively together at the conception of Christ and later at the birth of the Church, but because they have a kind of natural affinity. Both are hidden, in the background as it were, but dynamically so, strik-ingly reemerging at critical moments in Jesus's adult years--as when the Spirit leads Jesus into the desert to prepare him for his ministry, and when Mary, waiting for Jesus "apart from the crowd," inspires in him the revolutionary declaration as to his true and lasting kindred (Mk 3:31 - 35). There are other shared characteristics. These are discoverable in cer-tain movements or thrusts of our time, and I suggest that we look here Mary in Contemporary Culture / 395 for the presence of Mary/Spirit in our time as well as in any explicit Marian theology or devotion. Some of these revelatory movements are as follows. The interiorization of religion. Certainly emphasis today is on the sub-jective aspect of belief and morality. Even those who rightly uphold the objectivity of belief and morals are concerned more than ever with lib-erty of conscience, personal and cultural limitations of understanding, the virtue of prudence and its largely intuitive functioning, the unique-ness of a given "situation," the restoration in one form or another of casuistry(the individual case). But interiorization, subjectivity, intuition are of the unpredictable Spirit "who blows where he wills" and of the traditionally feminine rather than of the predictably and predicting ra-tional and the traditionally masculine. Purged of all excess and distor-tion, they are, in other words, of the Holy Spirit and Mary. Contemplative prayer. In the last twenty to thirty years there has been in the western world a mounting interest in and practice of medita-tive prayer, sparked by eastern imports such as TM, Zen, Yoga, and now developed along lines of traditional Christian contemplation. This prayer is seen now to be not just for the select few, mainly among nuns and monks, but for all in whatever walk of life. Here is obviously another aspect of interiorization and the letting go of content in favor of a poised and expectant darkness. It is not a looking to what is outside (image, word, symbol, creed) but to what is within, to the private, personal "reve-lation," to what God is "saying" to me here and now--like a pregnant woman turned inward, quietly aware of the mystery growing within her. Here again is the Holy Spirit praying within us when, as St. Paul tells us (Rm 8:26-27), we do not know what to pray for (that is, when all con-tent is surrendered) and here is Mary, the silent, surrendering contem-plative par excellence. Unseen, unfelt, they are at the heart of so many today who are trying to pray such prayer, and so many others desper-ately in need of it if only to avoid being torn apart and scattered by the noise and confusion of a world off-center. Ecumenism. Another mark, and need, of the contemporary Church is ecumenism, conceived now as the unification not just of the various Christian churches but of the worldreligions as well. Again we may see here the stirring of.the Spirit who is the bond of love, the vinculum cari-tatis, uniting Father and Son, the one hovering over the deep bringing, at the Father's Word, order out of chaos, the one forming and securing the one Church in the beginning. And as Mar~,, with and in the Spirit, brought to birth the one undivided Christ, so is her labor today with re- 326 / Review for Religious, May-June 1989 gard to the Church. It is the opinion of many Catholic theologians that Mary should be downplayed today so as not to offend our Protestant broth-ers and sisters and thereby impede ecumenism. I should think it would be just the opposite, providing the depth of Mary is presented, which is her spirit, her form more than her traditional content; yet the latter, in the purity of Church teaching and practice, is of marked importance, too, for itself and for what it reveals of her spirit and the new directions that spirit may take, for all the churches, in the future.5 Social Justice. Whereas in former times we would speak of charity and the works of charity, now the cry is for justice and the doing of jus-tice: we do for the poor not so much out of our love and their need as out of our sense of justice and their rights. Again, in the past justice has been in the main the province of the male, the one actively engaged in the world, in politics, business, civil defense, and so forth. But women are more and more coming to the fore in it, seeking justice for themselves and for the marginal and oppressed in general. Here we may note a fresh dynamic of Mary--the seed of which, however, was there from the be-ginning. Thus those writing of Mary today, particularly women, view her in the context of the women of justice in the ancient Hebrew world-- Esther, Deborah, Judith--and see a whole theology of social justice in Mary's Magnificat.6 And if the movement toward social justice is of the Holy Spirit, who as creative Love seeks balance, harmony, substantial peace and concord, then, yes we can find, if we look, the Spirit's spouse at work with the Spirit toward the same goal. Mary, while drawing us within in contemplative stillness, also directs us outward to the Christ who lived and lives in our objective, tangible world and identified him-self with the quite visible poor and needy. She points to this Christ dwell-ing outside us as well as within, just as does the Holy Spirit who, as the gospel tells us, is there to remind us continually of all Christ has visibly done and audibly spoken. Perhaps part of the new "content" of Mary today is this visibility of the woman in works of justice and peace, not as having lost the interiorization, the contemplative spirit, the gentle, mothering love of her past, but as gaining something in addition: the hid-den life while, paradoxically still remaining hidden, come forth openly to help heal the world. Mary remains what she was in the past and there-fore under the press of current need becomes someone new for the pre-sent. When considering Mary in her relationship to women, past and pre-sent, we must be cautious. Christ is male; his maleness is part of his his-tory, and history is important in the religion known as Christianity. But Mary in Contemporary Culture / 327 his maleness is meant mainly as a means of access to his humanity and person which are neither male nor female. Christ is equally for both men and women, though, of course, in different ways according to different psychologies and cultures. However, the h~stoncai fact of Christ s male-ness has often dominated our thinking about him, with regretful results; as when, in spite of changes in psychologies and culture it is used to jus-tify an ongoing exclusive male ecclesiastical leadership. Similarly with Mary. Her femininity is a providential part of her history, but it is as a human being and person that she is of greater moment. Accordingly she is for the man as well as the woman; she serves both equally and both are equally to learn from her, though, again, in different ways. Yet her femininity has had its influence, for good and bad. For bad." it has tended to limit our ideal of the Christian woman to what it was in Mary's own day and to which, accordingly, she herself was in good measure bound. For good: it has softened our conception of God and so made our ap-proach to God easier, more inviting, loving rather than fearful. In and through the gospels, past art and poetry and drama, seeing God in the arms and in the care and "power" of this then insignificant Jewish woman--quiet, gentle, lowly, we find some of that same womanhood rubbing off, as it were, on Father God. A fair part of the accessibility of Jesus himself, his merciful compassion, is the fact that he has Mary as his flesh and blood mother. Without her, would we be altogether con-vinced of the mercy of God and the understanding compassion of Jesus? Here is one way in which the "content" or dogma of Mary has affected us in the past, with its mark still upon us, thankfully. In the present thrust of woman toward justice, with Mary behind (and before) her, it would be tragic if this content were surrendered in favor of one that is hard, merely active, superficially and imitatively masculine. Eventually God himself might regress into the terror and cruelty of past and present dark religions. Mary, the Spirit, and Christ Above I recalled the bold but, to my mind, accurate Mariology of St. Maximilian Kolbe. Mary is the spouse of the Holy Spirit in a unique way, such that we can speak of her as the very incarnation of the Spirit, with some reservation (quasi). As indicated above, some Catholic theo-logians are embarrassed by this as by much else in the Church's past the-ology and practice concerning Mary. They think it an exaggeration of the biblical teaching and find it an impediment to union with our Protes-tant sister churches. As to the first objection we must insist that Scripture was not meant Review for Religious, May-June 1989 to stand alone: it sprung up out of the Church (community of believers) and its seeds are meant to grow within the Church under the care of the same Spirit who once inspired it. There was an initial content, to be re-spected as the Spirit's word through all time; but there were also drives, dynamisms within the original word, forms yet to find their specific con-tent or matter. Thus the gospels' powerful presentations, lovingly and carefully lingered over, of the relationship between Mary, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit cry out for meditation and penetration and so the revelation of truths beneath the surface. Thus we have the doctrines of the Immacu-late Conception, Assumption, the Queenship of Mary, and so forth; and her quasi-incarnation of the Spirit. This last is not to make a god of Mary. The gospels are clear on this score: Mary is the handmaid of the Lord, his lowly servant. Rather it is to point up something in God--the femininity, womanhood,, motherhood of God. Mary can be looked upon in two ways: as an historical person, flesh and blood, the daughter of Anna and Joachim (or of whomever), the physi-cal, natural mother of Jesus. Here she is all and only human. But she must also be seen as symbol, but the special kin~ of symbol that makes what is symbolized present in very reality. Thus as the Eucharist does not simply remind us of Christ but makes him really present upon our altars, so Mary does not simply recall the Holy Spirit to our minds and point us in the Spirit's direction; she makes the Spirit. really present among and within us. Seeing her we see the Spirit, as seeing the Eucha-rist we see Christ himself. This is a good and legitimate reason for ad-dressing the Spirit as feminine--not as a sop for the marginal woman but simply because as there are reasons for addressing God as Father or Son there is this equally cogent reason for addressing God as Mother.7 As in time, in the mystery of the Incarnation there is eternal Father, mother Mary, and Son Jesus, so in eternity there is Father and Son with mother-ing Spirit as their bond of Love. As for the difficulties such teaching may hold for ecumenism, they may be only initial difficulties. As suggested above, if we view Mary and present her in terms of form, thrust, spirit, and not just as already shaped content, and if we continually move deeper within this content in context of present needs and lawful desire, perhaps Protestants will eventually come to see what Catholic belief and theology have long since held as truth and will thank us for having led the way back home, as we have reason to thank them for having helped bring us back to much that had been lost. One final remark before considering some of the specifics of our sub- Mary in Contemporary Culture / 329 ject: it has to do with Mary's relationship with Christ. Again, in sensi-tivity to Protestant criticism and in reaction to exaggerated statements about Mary and misguided devotion to her, Vatican II and ecclesiastical documents and theology since have been most careful to insist upon the subjection of Mary to Christ. Salvation is through Christ alone; he is the one mediator between God and humankind. There is little if any talk about what formerly there was lots of talk about, namely of Mary as co-redeemer and mediatrix of all graces. Such theologizing, it is believed, and the devotion arising from (or producing) it detracts from the power and mission of Christ. But I wonder if we are not here misconceiving power and the whole matter of Christ's redemptive work. We seem to be equating Christ's (God's) power with power as we ordinarily think of it: dominating rule, often exclusive. But Christ's power is not univo-cal with ours, and he himself quite literally took the greatest pains to turn the tables in the matter: "You know how those who exercise authority among the gentiles lord it over them . It cannot be like that with you. Anyone among you who aspires to greatness must serve the rest . Such is the case with the Son of Man who has come, not to be served by others, but to serve" (Mt 20:25-28). And what about the power of love, which is Christ's power, or that of helplessness: the power of the sick to draw upon the strengths of oth-ers to heal and console, the power of the ignorant to create scholars and teachers, and so forth? I have often observed that the one with most power in a family is not the father or mother but the newly born baby, the whole life of the family revolving around the child precisely because of its powerful helplessness. If this seems farfetched relative to God, we have only to think of the Christ child in the crib at Bethlehem and the adult Christ upon the cross on Calvary. And what of the power of one who knows how to share his or her power, which requires greater strength, ability, "power" than to keep it all to oneself? I should think the great power of Christ, of God himself, is most manifest in the power to empower, to raise others to his very life and level. Jesus at the Last Supper remarked: "I solemnly assure you, the one who has faith in me will do the works I do, and greater far than these" (Jn 14:12). Not ex-clusive but inclusive--such is the power of Christ. Though our Holy Father in Redemptoris Mater follows Lumen Gen-tium in insisting upon Mary's subordination to Christ, h~, together with the Vatican II document, reiterates an old principle we ought to consider with equal care: "The maternal role of Mary towards people in no way obscures or diminishes the unique mediation of Christ, but rather shows 330 / Review for Religious, May-June 1989 its power" (emphasis mine). Why not assert this aspect of Christ's power and see Mary as true queen "at the side of her Son," as the encyclical expresses it? Indeed, for centuries and still today, at least in our Christ-mas liturgies and devotions, we see the King rather in the power of his mother and in her arms, enfolded by her who gives him to the nations: "and so entering the house, (they) found the child with Mary his mother. Who am I that the mother of my Lord should come to me . He went down with them then, and came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them . Figlia del tuo figlio, queen of heaven" (Mt 2:1 I ; Lk 1:43; Lk 2:51; T. S. Eliot, Dry Salvages, after Dante's Paradiso, xxxiii). In one mariological conference that I attended the speakers were in-sistent that we not view Mary apart from Christ. I kept thinking yes, but might not the reverse also be true: we must not view Christ apart from Mary. In Redemptoris Mater, John Paul several times reminds us of the indissolubility of the bond between Mary and Jesus and explicitly de-clares that "from the very first moment the Church 'looked at' Mary through Jesus, just as she 'looked at' Jesus through Mary." Christ does not want to be viewed in splendid isolation with everyone insisting that everything and everyone else is subordinated to him. His own image of himself is of one who serves, just as Mary's self-image is of the Lord's handmaid, neither thought less of their dignity for that: "Behold, all gen-erations shall call me blessed" (Lk 1:48). Mary is the first-fruits of the redemption, the Church in promised fulfillment, the Mother of the Re-deemer, of God himself, the spouse of the Holy Spirit and the effective symbol of the Spirit's presence and action in the world--this woman who embodies the very motherhood of God holds the new creation in her arms and nurtures it, just as she did her divine Son centuries ago. She has a greater, more powerful (loving) role in the work of redemption than much of our present theology is prepared to concede or any of us begin to imagine.8 At the conclusion of Redemptoris Mater we read: ". the Church is called not only to remember everything in her past that testifies to the special maternal cooperation of the Mother of God in the work of salva-tion in Christ the Lord, but also, on her own part, to prepare for the fu-ture the paths of this cooperation. For the end of the second Christian millennium opens up as a new prospect." Our Holy Father also calls for "a new and more careful reading of what the Council said about the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God, in the mystery of Christ and the Church . " Renewed thinking about Mary and action relative to her Mary in Contemporary Culture / 33"1 are called for.9 But we are to do our thinking and acting in the context of both Scripture and the wider tradition, and of current need. We are to listen to the living Spirit as "she" shows within this treasure, Mary, both the old and the new. Mary and Some Specifics of Culture: Psychology In light of the above generalized reflections on Mary and contempo-rary culture I would like to comment briefly upon several segments of our culture in terms of Mary's possible role within them. In the area of psychology, so overwhelmingly influential in the shaping of our contem-porary culture and such an intimate part of it, it depends on what psy-chology we are talking about. If it is Jungian depth psychology, we need not look long or far to find Mary's place within it. Much of the work has already been done by the master and his disciple. Jung maintained that ideas and archetypes such as the anima, the intuitive, the dark, the yin--in general, the feminine--are underdeveloped in our western cul-ture, with disastrous results. His psychology must go even further today and add they are also on the wane in much of the eastern world in com-petition now with the west in its masculine drives toward action and domi-nance, rational knowledge and acquisition. This psychology's percep-tion, then, of the need for Mary or some equivalent dynamic is evident. Jung himself expressly spoke of the need in terms of Mary. He rejoiced over the definition of the doctrine of Mary's assumption, declaring it to be "the most important religious event since the Reformation." At last the feminine was given the exaltation it requires and deserves.~° However, as suggested above, and as Jungian psychology insists, we must not think of the feminine exclusively in terms of the woman. In the past maybe so, and in our present world still many women may be said to possess more of the "feminine" than do men. But feminine charac-teristics are meant to be part of the male psychology as masculine ones of the female, and cases abound where dominance in one or the other is reversed. I think of the two great sixteenth-century Carmelites. Both Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross had the organizational skills and drives and other "masculine" traits appropriate to founders and reform-ers of religious orders, and in these Teresa, as evidenced in her numer-ous religious foundations and governance thereof, may be said to have surpassed John. Again, both were richly passive, intuitive, contempla-tive, steeped in dark and mystery and in cleaving, passionate love, all notable feminine characteristics. Yet it is John, at least as revealed in his poetry, who appears the more feminine: he is the anima, the woman pas-sive under the strong and passionately active love of a quite virile God. 332 / Review for Religious, May-June 1989 To what extent, therefore, the feminine characteristics are de facto ¯ found in women more than in men may be moot. But they are definitely the major component of the psyche of the woman Mary as she appears in the gospels. Mary's strong, paradoxically active passivity (she brings .forth the Word as she receives it), her alert and watchful hiddenness, her concern and compassion for those in need (Cana) and for the suffering (Calvary), her motherhood (of Christ and the Church), her deep, loving fidelity (from thefiat of Nazareth and before to that of Calvary and be-yond) are purposely emphasized that both men and women might real-ize their indispensability in each life that would be Christ's. They are also underscored to draw our attention to the feminine in Christ, whom oth-erwise we might tend to view simply as masculine: visibly out front, ac-tive in his preaching, teaching, healing, immersed in religious contro-versy-- a male among a world of males. In the context of his mother (and the other women who surround him), Jesus is still masculine but we are forced to attend to the deep roots of his masculinity, which is his femi-nine Spirit: his passivity (his prayer and passion), his hidden life even as he actively encountered the world, his cleaving love and compassion unto death, his motherhood (Mt 23:37; Lk 13:34). In Mary's presence, her "atmosphere," such qualities of Christ are not simply seen, but they are seen to be the best of him. Jesus was so powerfully and creatively masculine--such a leader for his time as for all time--because his mas-culinity was rooted in and suffused by the feminine, the Spirit. It is Mary who as his mother nurtured him in this, and who helps draw our atten-tion to it. It is she, then, who as our mother nurtures us in the same Spirit and in a similar way. As for other psychologies suffice it here to say that Mary should be looked for behind and within any therapy working toward healing and wholeness. Again, it is Christ who is the healer, but it is Mary who in-itiates the process by bringing Christ to birth, in the world at large and in each individual. Mary, one with the Spirit, struggles and groans in each of us to bring us to the wholeness, the sanity of Christ. Like her, and with her, we concentrated on the activefiat that allows it all to hap-pen. Politics, Economics, Sociology In the political, economic, and sociological concerns of our time Mary points up the need for the hidden, the contemplative, and for uni-versal justice (as in her Magnificat), and, though unnoticed, she is be-hind and within all creative efforts toward these ends. The absence of the contemplative, of the feminine in general, in contemporary politics Mary in Contemporary Culture / 333 is evident, and results have been tragic. Because they lack roots, our poli-tics, both domestic and foreign, change even as they are being formed; and this condition is aggravated by lack of goals other than immediate and pragmatic. But it is the contemplative spirit that gives depth and con-stancy and lights up the future and beyond. Also, our current concentration is upon superficial differences and divisions (my need, my race, my country, my self) rather than on our deeper oneness, which only contemplation, in the one God-centered form or another, can reveal and promote. Further, the disturbance we experi-ence within and among nations may well have as its root cause the fail-ure of the contemplative, the fruit of which is "the peace that surpasses understanding." And so we find divisions among us, the growth of fear, the expan-sion of military might to safeguard our "own" war or the cold threat of war. We look, then, to Mary, universal Mother and Queen of peace, for political healing. She is already there, in this felt social need, but also in those religious orders of men and women whose main concern is con-templation. One of the concrete ways in which the state might help work its own remedy, and so implicitly acknowledge Mary in its functioning, is itself to encourage and promote contemplative communities within its boundaries. These would help make up for the failure of prayer else-where and would be invitation and incentive for the rest of us to unite ourselves with them, at least from time to time, and so help bring our nation and the world to greater depth, unity, and peace. If the need for Mary and what she represents is obvious in politics, it is more so in the field of economics. Here the masculine dominates to the complete exclusion of the feminine, and material concerns have been so isolated from the spiritual that never the twain do meet. This is especially disturbing when we realize that it is economics that determines even our politics. Science too, as technology, is subordinated to it and dominated by it. Indeed, economics has become the dominant factor of our culture or a-culture; it is our pseudo-religion, often becoming, in fact if not in theory, the determining force in more legitimate and traditional religion. If, then, Jesus needs to be born into our world today, it is cer-tainly here in our economic systems and practice. And if born here, he may begin to penetrate the rest of our world. So once again we look to Mary to mother Jesus where he is most needed and we do what we can to help her in the birthing. To see sociology in terms of Mary is to reconsider love. Whatever the other theories as to the origin of society, from the Christian perspec- 334 / Review for Religious, May-June 1989 tive it is love that first brings us together and, accordingly, it is love that is society's fundamental problem. So from its beginnings Christianity has taught that the basic unit of society is not the individual but the family which (ideally) is the product of love; and social workers, I believe, would readily agree that it is the lack of love, with the resulting fear and loneliness, that is their chief concern. But today love which is meant to unite is itself fragmented. Sex, in-tended to be integral with love, has been divided from it and made to function alone with all the consequent evils, both mental and physical, that plague our society. The inward-outward directions of love have also been severed, so that now it is either love of self (inward) to the exclu-sion of others or the love of others (outward) to the neglect and loss of self. One of the results of this is the breakup (further division) of the fam-ily which, accordingly, is now challenged by sociologists as the de facto basic unit of society. Mary can and, in secret ways, does have a curative place in all of this. Her love was integral. It reached out to others in and through Christ's large love; indeed, she brought that very love to birth. But she also reached deep within herself to the Spirit of love wherein she found her personal growth and happiness: "All generations will call me blessed." True, she "knew not man." But this does not mean her love was sexless. It is the myopia of our time that sees sex as having but one kind of expression. Mary can alert us to look for the depth in sex and sexual love and so open to us new possibilities of love. And love restored to wholeness should work toward the restoration of the centrality of fam-ily with consequent diminution of fear and loneliness. The Arts and Sciences Mary can have, and has, her place in those areas of our culture known as the arts and sciences. In any presentation or exercise of the hu-man, as in the arts and sciences, we are to see Christ, of course, but also Mary who, in her Immaculate Conception and her conception and birth-ing of Christ, was the first to bring the human to perfection. But as in Christ the human is perfected in and through the divine (Christ's person and divine nature) so also we find Mary bringing the human to perfec-tion in, through, and toward the divine. Again, it is a matter of whole-ness, which our contemporary world tends always to divide. Apart from the divine the human can only degenerate into the inhuman; but with the divine all of its gifted potential is realized. It is in this sense that the only true humanism is Christian humanism. Thus in the arts and sciences Mary is present as they express and promote the human, and she is dy- Mar), in Contemporary Culture / 335 namically present, moving them forward and deeper into the divine to become divinely human. Christ alone might be said to suffice for this: he is the one who in his very person brings the human to perfection. But Mary gives assurance of and added emphasis to Christ's humanity (he is of herflesh) and his divinity (she is Mother of God) and is responsible for the becoming of these in our world (she conceives and nurtures the perfect human being). She is behind the process of the arts and sciences. Here, then, as elsewhere in our contemporary world, Mary, together with her Son, may be found, not just as a possibility, but as actively engaged in shaping a reemerging culture. Our concern ought to be to look for them together and, having found them, enter into their work. NOTES ~ "I know that a poem, or a passage of a poem, may tend to realize itself first as a particular rhythm before it reaches expression in words, and that this rhythm may bring to birth the idea and the image; and I do not believe that this is an experience peculiar to myself." T. S. Eliot. "The Music of Poetry" in On Poetry and Poets (New York: 1957), p. 32. z Eliot again: "Culture cannot altogether be brought to consciousness; and the cul-ture of which we are wholly conscious is never the whole of culture: the effective culture is that which is directing the activities of those who are manipulating that which they call culture." Christianity and Culture (New York: 1949), p. 184. For Eliot's summary definition of culture see p. 198. 3 Gerard Manley Hopkins in "The Blessed Virgin compared to the Air We Breathe." 4 Ren~ Laurentin, indeed, disapproves of the expression altogether, reserving the term "incarnation" for that bf Christ alone~ However, he proceeds to speak of Mary as "pure transparency for the Spirit . . . she is wholly relative to the Spirit; this indeed is at the very core of her deep relationship to Christ and the Father." "Mary and the Holy Spirit," in Mary in Faith and Life in the New Age of the Church (Ndola- Zambia: 1983),"pp. 287-288. 5 See note 9 below for C. Jung's defense of Mary, precisely as in Catholic dogma, as a remedy for a defective Protestantism. In a letter to The Tablet, Sept. 5, 1987, p. 944, Dora Bede Griffiths, writing from his ashram-in Tamil Nadu, South India, suggests a rapprochement, between eastern religions and Christianity through the femi-nine. He notes that in Hebrew the "word for the Spirit (ruach) is feminine and in the Syrian Church, which spoke a form of Aramaic, which is close to the Hebrew, reference was made to 'our Mother, the Holy Spirit.' " The same for the Hebrew word for Wisdom (hokmah): it too is feminine and "this Wisdom is described as 'coming forth from the mouth of the Most High' as a feminine form of the Word of God." He suggests the possible enrichment of our Christian tradition by contact with Hinduism which "has no difficulty in calling on God as 'My Father, my Mother' and with Mahayana Buddhism which conceives of the highest form of Wis-dom as a feminine figure. Dora Bede does not mention Mary here, but it is my sug-gestion that she it is who concretizes the divine feminine, gives it flesh. Thus she 336 / Review for Religious, May-June 1989 is the one who, rather than impede universal ecumenism, is meant to help in its re-alization. 6 There are the fine women theologians writing on Mary, such as E. S. Fiorenza and E. Moltmann-Wendel. But I am also thinking of the poets who perhaps do even more to deepen and broaden our knowledge and appreciation of Mary: a Caryll Houselan-der of the past generation and an Ann Johnson of the present. For the Magnificat especially, see the latter's Miryam of Nazareth: Woman of Strength and Wisdom (In-diana: Ave Maria Press, 1984). 7 In his essay "Sur la maternit~ en Dieu et la feminit6 du Saint-Esprit," Escritos del Vedat !I (1981), Yves Congar argues from Scripture and Tradition to the femi-ninity of the Holy Spirit, but is here silent as to Mary's role in the "sacramentiz-ing" of it. The essay may also be found in Theology Digest 30:2 (Summer, 1982) pp, 129-132. 8 Solus Christus, as solafides and sola scriptura, requires severe qualification. For centuries Catholic theologians have argued vigorously against ~he two latter formu-lae. They have been rightly suspicious of such exclusivity in view of the fullness of Christian revelation. For the same reason, perhaps, they should also challenge the solus Christus, this time in view of the fullness of Christ who is our revelation. 9 In an interview carried in America (June 6, 1987), pp. 457-458, Cardinal Suenens stressed the incompleteness of Vatican II's declaration on Mary. "I felt we needed to say more . She is not merely an historical figure; from the beginning she has been given an ongoing mission to bring Christ to the world." ~0 C. G. Jung, "Answer to Job," in Psychology and Religion: West and East, trans. by R. F. C. Hull, Bollinger Series XX (Pantheon Books, 1958), p. 464. Jung goes on to criticize Protestantism for its criticisms of the dogma. "Protestantism has ob-viously not given sufficient attention to the signs of the times which point to the equal-ity of women. But this equality requires to be metaphysically anchored in the figure of a 'divine' woman, the bride of Christ." Jung realizes that the dogma does not give Mary "the status of a goddess," still "her position (now) satisfies the need of the archetype." 1 don't know how this last can be, however, unless it is in and through Mary that we recognize that within the godhead itself the feminine is real-ized in the Person of the Spirit. Through Mary. Hilda S. Montalvo Hilda Montalvo is currently teaching at St. Vincent de Paul Regional Seminary in Boynton Beach, Florida. She is a wife and mother, currently a candidate for a Doc-torate in Ministry. She has completed the graduate program in Christian Spiritual Guid-ance from the Shalem Institute for Spiritual Formation in Washington, D.C. Her ad-dress is 7151 Pioneer Road; West Palm Beach, Florida 33413. The other day at a Lay Ministry workshop there was a spontaneous burst of applause when I shared my way of praying Mary's life. From the be-ginning of my spiritual journey over twenty years ago I have had an in-tuitive knowledge that the objective "facts" and titles about Mary were important not only because they honored and revered the mother of God but also because they spoke of my reality as a human being and a Chris-tian. These Marian dogmas have helped me to clarify and understand my basic assumptions of myself, my relationship with God, and the mean-ing of my life. I have always had a problem with original sin. To inherit Adam's sin is simply not fair, and so at seven I became an agnostic. The idea of a God that punishes and condemns innocent people--and I experi-enced myself as innocent--was repulsive and frightening. Christianity was not good news. If I was good, if ! kept the commandments, then God would love me. The dogma of the Immaculate Conception simply meant that God had wai.ved that evil from one person. To be born with original sin was bad enough but at least it was a shared human experi-ence and it explained (somewhat!) evil and death. But if Mary was born without it, not only was she not totally human but her "fiat" was pre-destined and she had no actual freedom. Christianity became good news when I realized that the fall/ redemption concept of original sin was simply one way of understand- 337 331~ / Review for Religious, May-June 1989 ing the Genesis story. The traditional interpretation of the story of Adam and Eve posits a paradise lost because of disobedience and the conse-quent punishment of suffering and death. But modern biblical interpret-ers such as Brueggemann are recognizing that the fundamental revela-tion of Genesis is that God's creation is good and that God is constantly gracing and blessing it. God made man and woman in "our" image and it was very good. That has to be the most important assumption of our spiritual life. Each person must come to a personal conviction of this truth that is not only an intellectual response but a lived, grounded ex-perience. The story of Adam and Eve is now being understood as that moment in history when human beings first become self-consciously aware, the first truly human act. Before that there was simply undifferentiated ex-istence; total unconscious dependence on environment and relationship, such as each baby.lives through his or her first year. The process of be-coming self-conscious, of becoming autonomous, in a child can be de-scribed a bit facetiously as the "terrible two's," in humankind, as the Fall. Original sin is not a 'thing' that we are born with: it simply de-scribes in mythological language our natural tendency for independence. Catholicism has always affirmed that grace builds on nature. Crea-tion spirituality, which has its origins in the earliest writer of the Bible, the Yahwist, emphasizes the constant presence and blessings of God in spite of the seeming sinfulness of his creatures. The main thrust of the whole Yahwist Saga which culminates in that beautiful and simple story of Balaam and the talking ass (Nb 22:25) is to celebrate God's refusal to curse his people and his insistence of unconditional love and bless-ing. We, like Balaam, are blinded by our needs and expectations. Per-haps .the Immaculate Conception is yet another reminder of our innate gracefulness? Could not this be the fundamental celebration of baptism? Jesus experienced the unconditional love of his Father at his baptism; we celebrate this same unconditional love and our acceptance into a lov-ing community at our baptism. Mary's Immaculate Conception could be the reminder of God's unconditional covenant with each one of us and the celebration of his covenant through one individual. It is not a nega-tive gift--but a positive statement: God is with us and for us. Original sin (and now I can begin to forgive God and Adam!) is the mythical explanation of our desire for independence from God and his creation--autonomy--with the inevitable consequence of alienation and death. Baptism is the celebration of the fact that God not only loves us unconditionally but is present within us and among us; it effects what it Through Mary / 339 signifies. The truth and hope beyond individualization is unity with God and interdependence with others--co-creators of the parousia, paradise, but now conscious and mature and in freedom. Mary is the archetype of this truth which has been named as Immaculate Conception. At the experiential level I resonate with Mary's "fiat." I also have experienced, am experiencing, the overshadowing of the Holy Spirit and have been afraid and anxious. I also wrestle with the "how" and "why" and the "why me." I also (carefully and tentatively) have said "fiat" and Christ has become incarnate, is now conceived, and contin-ues to be conceived in my life moment by moment. I also have felt com-pelled to go forth and share this good news with others. I give birth daily to Christ in my family, in my ministry. I also sing daily "My soul mag-nifies the Lord, my spirit exalts in God my savior." Mary's story is my story and every Christian's story. She is the ar-chetype of the Disciple as well as the archetype of Woman and Mother for both men and women. An archetype, in Jungian terms, is an image in thepsyche that when recognized and owned can serve to integrate be-liefs, feelings, and behavior. Unless one allows the Word to be con-ceived within one's very being, Christianity remains barren and lifeless, a moral code. It is onlywhen I become willing to accept the transform-ing gracefulness of God's love and presence in my life that I become ca-pable of writing my own Magnificat. As I journal the events of my life I become aware that God "has done great things for me," not least of which is to radically change my values and priorities. Mary is both virgin and mother. If this is understood only in the physi-cal sense, it is simply a faith statement that speaks exclusively of Mary. Mary "undefiled" stands above and beyond created reality, sexuality, and life itself. By implication, then, all persons who express their love sexually, even in stable and committed relationships, are impure, cor-rupted, polluted, tainted, or unclean. The list of synonyms in Roget's Thesaurus is much longer. But dogmas and doctrines speak of the truth of our nature and our relationship with God and with one another. Thus it behooves Catholic Christians to question what God is revealing through this dogma. Might it not mean that "perpetual virginity" means a life of integrity and innocence in any walk of life? Every disciple must conceive and birth Jesus; must be reborn; must be both virgin and mother regardless of his or her sex or sexuality. This way of perceiving Mary's virginity and motherhood can be especially fruitful for men who, in Jung's terms, project their ideal image of woman instead of accepting and owning their own femininity or anima. Mary Review for Religious, May-June 1989 within, for all disciples, symbolizes openness, receptivity, gentleness, gracefulness--many of those feminine virtues that have been lacking in our contemporary society. As a wife and mother I recognize and celebrate both the gift of moth-erhood and the wholeness and purity of my own life that is bespoken of through virginity. In and through motherhood I continue to be uncon-taminated, unprofaned, spotless, unblemished, andchaste. As I pray this dogma I become more comfortable with the paradoxical reality of my own inner being; I begin to name and own my authentic self; I become more open and vulnerable to the healing presence of Christ within. To meditate on the dogmas of Mary in this fashion helps us come in touch with the paradoxical nature of creation. It helps us to see be-yond the either/or stance that divides, judges, and creates conflict and war. It helps us to accept that much broader vision of both/and that is so freeing and encompassing. It helps us to see and understand the dif-ference between facts and Truth, between knowledge and wisdom. It is an invitation to live and enjoy mystery, to be surprised by newness and resurrection and Presence. Meditating on the dogma of the Assumption can be especially help-ful for us in recognizing our projections of the categories of time and space unto life after death. We were taught that heaven and hell were places for all time---eternity. Purgatory was a transient place of purifi-cation. The time and place one went to depended on one's choices. All very neat and logical--and totally contradictory to Revelation. The mag-nificence and mystery of the Spirit's presence in the Church is especially obvious in this dogma of the Assumption. Again we must take it seri-ously and symbolically--in the deepest sense of symbol which is to point beyond the literal sense to the mystery of which it speaks. Mary, the Dis-ciple, is assumed, taken up into heaven, body and soul, after her death. In mythological language she passes into timelessness and spacelessness. She simply is. Westerners tend to equate rational thought with knowledge, thus de-nying intuitive, imageless wisdom. The Assumption--as the Resurrec-tion- is revealed knowledge that goes beyond rational logical thought into mystery and Truth. But as finite human beings we factualize and ex-teriorize the nameless, misunderstand symbol, and live mystery as if it were actuality. The invitation of the dogma of the Assumption is to .let go of our need to understand, to know, to control, and simply trust the goodness and kindness of God. The invitation is to live this life to the fullest and trust that God will take care of our future--name it resurrec- Through Mary / 341 tion or assumption. The invitation is to experience beyond imagining and to live with the paradox of knowing but not understanding. My skepticism/agnosticism has served my faith in the sense that by doubting, questioning, and mistrusting religious experience I have not succumbed to superstition or fanaticism. On the other hand--as was pointed out to me by a wise fellow-traveler--skepticism was also an "ego defense, behind which lies a fear of change and loss of control that giving in to the religious experience may bring." Gifted with this insight I have consciously approached the dogma of the Assumption with as much of an attitude of "letting-go" and an open mind as possible. This has allowed me to see beyond the constricting barriers of space, time, matter and form. It has encouraged me to become open to mystery and surprise and to think in other terms than those of classical theology which comes to logical and rational conclusions about the mystery of God: "It is fitting and right." The Assumption means that when I die I become present. The.As-sumption means no more time, space, dualism, paradox. The Assump-tion means no more becoming. All the barriers to fullness of life that I have struggled with either because of environment or because of genes will disappear and I will become--I am, one with Christ. Catholics have traditionally prayed "through Mary to Jesus." This archetypal way of praying Mary, in fact, allows Jesus to become incar-nate in our very being. As I "ponder" the Immaculate Conception I be-come aware of the goodness of creation and my innate gracefulness; I conceive Jesus' within me by the power of the Holy Spirit; I give birth to him daily and discover him in others; I slowly let go of my need to control through power and knowledge. Through Mary belief statements become faith experiences; factual knowledge becomes lived Truth. I can then say with Paul: "I live now not with my own life but with the life of Christ who lives in me." Some Reflections On Mary, Bridge To Ecumenism? Mary Eileen Foley, R.G.S. Sister Mary Eileen Foley, R.G.S., has been teaching courses in Scripture in a par-ish and to her own Sisters, in addition to her free lance writing. She has been princi-pal and teacher of special needs of teenage girls. Her address is Convent of the Good Shepherd; Cushing Hill Drive; Marlboro, Massachusetts 01752. The hopeful days of ecumenism following Vatican Council II in the 1960s highlighted a maj6r difference between Catholics and Protestants, namely, devotion to Mary. For a long time after the Reformation in the sixteenth century, there was an absence of any productive or even respect-ful communication between us, and consequently there was little under-standing of each other's point of view, especially regarding the mother of Jesus. Historical Background Devotion to Mary, an outstanding characteristic of most Catholics, became the dividing line, with symbolic rather than logical origins. Mary represented Catholicism, against which the Reformers were protesting on the Continent. About the same time in England, the suppression of Catholicism un-der Henry VIII was more specifically directed against the papacy. The destruction of monasteries, however, depri red the people of religious in-struction and centers where Mary was honored; as a consequence, devo-tion to her almost died out. Elizabeth I, motivated politically rather than religiously, continued her father's efforts to dominate Ireland, capitalizing on the anti- Catholic movement by implementing the policy of "Anglicization 342 Mary, Bridge to Ecumenism? / 343 through Protestantization." In Ireland, the mere possession of a rosary was sufficient evidence of treason against the Crown, and was punish-able by death. Under Cromwell's dictatorship in England, Anglicanism, as well as Catholicism, was repressed, and even the celebration of Christmas was forbidden. "Where was the Blessed Mother in thought and practice if her son's birthday was repudiated by the law of the land?"~ Divinity vs. Discipleship Influenced by the history and the politics of the times, misunderstand-ings grew in regard to the Church's attitude toward Mary. Protestants were disturbed about the apparent centrality of devotion to Mary; it seemed to be taking something away from Christ. Non-Roman Catho-lics balk at giving Mary the title of "Co-Redemptrix," fearing that Christ will be displaced as unique mediator of salvation.2 In time, Catholics were able to hear Protestants voice their concern about our apparent "divinization" of Mary, yet countless explanations to the contrary did not seem to convince them, either to put their fears at rest or to allow them the comfort and friendship of the Mother of God. The Council actually approached the subject of Mary with the concerns of non-Catholics in mind, even over the objections of some of the bish-ops, who felt that ecumenism should not be the focus of a document on Mary. Some wished her to be declared Mediatrix of All Graces, but this did not happen at the Council. Actually no separate document on Mary materialized. In the final analysis, Mary appears in the context of the document on the Church. In a discussion of Christ (the Redeemer) and the Church (the Redeemed), she is very clearly identified with the Church, the people of God, rather than with Christ, the Son of God. The document portrays her, not as Christo-typical but as Ecclesio-typical. The implications of this decision were far-reaching indeed. First, this is a very different focus from that to which we have been accustomed. We have tended to see Jesus and Mary together, and while Mary was by no means deified, we did tend to .pray to them together. We looked up to them. Her stance now, however, is with us, the re-deemed, the beneficiaries of the passion and death of Christ. Discipleship Part of the reason for the change seems to be the emphasis on Mary's role in Scripture as disciple. As a hearer of God's word, she is an out-standing disciple of Christ, and she is logically first among his disciples :344 / Review for Religious, May-June 1989 and members of the Church. The concept of disciple, clearly presented in .the Scripture, seems to be more acceptable to our Protestant brethren and carries with it no overtones of divinity. All four Evangelists as a matter of fact paint her portrait as the faith-ful disciple, and in so doing, they reflect this role as seeming to surpass her title of Mother of God. "Blessed is the womb that bore you and the breasts that nursed you," cried a woman in the crowd, to whom Jesus responded, "Yea, blessed are they who hear the word of God and keep it" (Lk 12:27-28). "Your mother and brethren are outside, awaiting you," he was told, and he deftly responded with a question: "Who is my mother? Who are my brethren? He who does the will of my Father, is mother, brother, and sister to me" (Mk 3:31-35). Near the cross of Jesus stood his mother and the disciple whom Je-sus loved. "Woman, behold thy son," he said; then to John, "Behold thy mother" (Jn 19:25-27). Jesus is speaking to his ideal followers, who henceforth will model discipleship for all who desire to follow the Mas-ter. It struck me while comparing these Gospel passages that the Evan-gelists are at great pains to demonstrate that Mary's dignity comes from the fact that she was a woman of faith, which is the outstanding charac, teristic of a disciple. She was open to the word of God and completely obedient in carrying out whatever it called her to do. Whether it was ac-ceptance of the angelic message ("be it done unto me according to thy word," Lk i:38) or responding to the call to go to Bethlehem, then Egypt, and finally Calvary, she modeled clearly for us what the disciple of Christ should be. Grace and Discipleship No one, it seems, could be faulted for honoring one who followed Christ so perfectly. Yet, here again, differing beliefs on grace playa part. Protestants believe that salvation is effected by God alone, that hu-man nature plays no role. Protestants tend to view human nature as totally corrupted by sin, and grace as the merciful disposition of God to forgive and to treat the sin-ner as justified . To speak of human cooperation is to underestimate either the radical nature of human sin or the absolute gratuity of grace. In this perspective (from the Protestant point of view) the use of Mary's fiat becomes a primary example of Catholic presumption of God's sov-ereignty, making God dependent on humanity or making a creature mu-tually effective with God in the work of redemption.3 Mary, Bridge to Ecumenism? / 345 Resistance to the title "Co-Redemptrix" is related to this belief also. The Catholic point of view has been adequately stated, and to quote Tambasco again: "Mary's life simply reflects the fullest effects of grace which enable a faith-filled freedom that responds to and engages in the sovereign work of God in Christ .F.reedom does not substitute for grace, or grace, freedom."4 Because she is preeminent in carrying out his word, Mary's signifi-cance lies, according to the synoptics, in this characteristic of disci-pleship, more than the fact that she is Jesus's natural mother. At the foot of the cross, howe~,er, the beloved disciple, John, and the faithful disci-ple, Mary, seem to be called to discipleship in terms of a family rela-tionship, specifically that of mother and son. The role of disciple now seems to be expressed best in terms of mothering! Discipleship And Motherhood Actually, Mary conceived Jesus by means of an act of faith, the mark of the disciple: When the invitation to be Christ's mother is proposed to her, she says, "Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it done unto me according to thy word" (Lk 1:38). And then the Word becomes flesh . Faith comes first, and then motherhood. John, too, is to carry out his discipleship in similar terms. In his First Letter, John's words are as tender as any mother's: "Remain in him now, little ones . See what love the Father has bestowed on us in letting us be called the children of God! Yet that is what we are' (1 Jn 2:28; 3:1). Mothering is what disciples do. Whatever our ministry is, we hope to bring to it compassion and caring. As a teacher l felt honored to be involved in nurturing the intellectual and spiritual growth of students. The Scriptures are full of mother images that apply not only to a disci-ple but were, in fact, chosen by the Lord for himself. The scriptural im-age of Christ weeping over Jerusalem is very explicit: "How often have I wanted to gather your children together as a mother bird collects her young under her wings, and you refused me!" (Lk 13:34). The disciple of Christ shares in his life-giving approach to those to whom he has been sent. Life-giving calls up images of motherhood, and lately it has been very popular to speak of God as Mother. Julian of Nor-wich often prayed to "Mother Jesus." Mary images motherhood for us, not only her own, but the motherhood of Christ as well. Even the Apos-tle Paul says: "You are my children, and you put me back in labor pains until Christ is formed in you" (Ga 4:!9). Finally the God of the Old Testament speaks through Isaiah: "Can 346 / Review for Religious, May-June 1989 a mother forget her infant, or a woman be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Yet even if she should forget, I will never forget you" (Is 49:15). It looks to me that, although Protestants accept the fact that Mary is the mother of.Jesus, they do not seem to see her as their mother, too. While we sometimes see ourselves in the role of mothering, at other times we, too, need to be nurtured or affirmed. The mother of Jesus seems to be a natural one to turn to, especially since we understand that she has been given to us in the words spoken to John, "Behold thy mother" (Jn 19:27). The motherly qualities so ~befitting a disciple are surely present in a special way in Mary, the paramount disciple of all. Doctrine, Scripture, And Tradition Another possible ecumenical barrier regarding Mary is the dogma of the Immaculate Conception (Mary conceived without sin) and the dogma of the Assumption (Mary taken into heaven, body and soul.) A dogma is a doctrine that has been presented for belief, and the idea of the evo-lution of dogma is an enlightening one for many, Catholics included. A doctrine emerges from tradition, which has been explained as follows: Tradition is the living faith experience of the Church which preserves the truths enunciated in the Scriptures but also explicates these truths, draws out what is hidden, and develops more fully insights consistent with but not wholly expressed in the biblical text.5 As has been better expressed above, sometimes a dogma affirms what was not known in complete form from the beginning, but devel-oped from reflections on, for example, the mystery of the Incarnation, and has been the constant teaching of the Church for centuries. Dogma may appear to have been imposed exteriorly, in a context that is a-historical. The vagueness of its scriptural basis is difficult for Protestants, who are biblically, and therefore, historically, oriented. Rootedness in history and Scripture, sources that are being mined assiduously by Catho-lics today, may well provide the undergirding necessary to place devo-tion to Mary in properperspective for all. The aforementioned dogmas on Mary were defined during what we now call the Marian Age (1850 to 1950), although they have been part of the tradition of the Church since the sixth century. Belief (in the Assumption) originated not from biblical evidence nor even patristic testimony but as the conclusion of a so-called argument from convenience or fittingness. It was fitting that Jesus should have res-cued his mother from the corruption of the flesh and so he must have Mary, Bridge to Ecumenism? / 347 taken her bodily into heaven.6 At the end of the sixth century, they began to celebrate the Immacu-late Conception in the East, but it remained unknown in the West until the eleventh century . To eastern ears, which had a different under-standing of original sin, it meant only freedom from mortality and genu-ine human weakness.7 Such doctrines are based on what has been described as "theology from above," or an understanding of the Incarnation as originating in the Trinity. When the Father sent his Son to earth to be born of the Vir-gin Mary, it was incompatible with his nature that the Son would inherit original sin, taught to be transmitted through birth into the human race. Therefore, it was appropriate that Mary be conceived immaculate. The honor is for the sake of Jesus, not Mary. The Communion Of Saints An understanding of the communion of saints, a belief shared by both Catholics and Protestants, may be helpful in seeing Mary's role more clearly. The idea seems to have originated with the martyrs who gave their lives for Christ, and, as a result, were believed to be enjoying his presence and the rewards of their sacrifice. Obviously, they would be in a unique position to be allowed by God to hear the prayers of those still struggling on and would be willing and able to offer these petitions for help to Christ himself, in whose presence they now live. The idea of intercessory prayer is accepted by most people, who pray not only to the saints who have distinguished themselves in the service of God, but to their own friends and relatives who led good lives on earth and as-suredly are still mindful of the needs of those they have left behind. Peo-ple who are still living are also asked to pray for the intentions of oth-ers! That people should present their petitions to Mary in order that she might intercede with her Son for them follows logically in this tradition. It would seem that he would be especially attentive to one who was his model disciple on earth, to one who spent, her life hearing his word and accomplishing it, especially if she were interceding for one who was ask-ing her help to be an effective disciple also. - In ordinary life we often speak to someone with influence in order to present our case. Such is the nature of intercessory prayer, not to be confused with praying directly to Mary,'as if she were able to grant these petitions herself. Protestants dislike seeing Mary in the role of Media-tor, since Jesus Christ is the one Mediator. A movement at the Council to declare Mary Mediatrix of all Graces was scrapped, although this be- Review for Religious, May-June 1989 lief has been part of the tradition of the Church since the eighth century. The ecumenical dimension of the Council reflected the Church's percep-tion of herself now as a world church, with respect for the truth possessed by all churches. Theology -From-Below The contributions of Karl Rahner to contemporary religious thought seem to have great value for the ecumenical movement. Rahner, consid-ered to be one of the greatest theologians of our time, is especially im-pressed with the sacramentality of creation--the fact that God himself is revealed in his works. When creation first came from the hand of God as recorded in Genesis, it was seen to be good--to be holy. God was in his creation from the beginning. Although it was good, it was not com-plete, and in the p.rogress of time, all creation moves to fulfillment, which is finally achieved in Jesus Christ. Rahner's idea is that Christ emerged naturally from God's creation, rather than emphasizing his "being sent down from heaven." He says things often like "the more one is like Christ, the more he is truly him- ~elf." To be like Christ is to approach being a perfect human being. Rahner's ideas allow for experiential learning on the part of Jesus, like any human person going through the normal stages of growth and de-velopment. This Christology is very attractive to a Catholic today, and perhaps it has been better known to Protestants all along. This Christology does not deny his divinity, of course, but the em-phasis is very different from the implications of the theology:from-above design, which seems to emphasize his divinity more, although it does not deny his humanity. One argument advanced was that since one is the mother of a person, rather than a nature, it seemed logical to em-phasize Mary as Mother of God. "In 451," writes Charles W. Dickson, a Lutheran pastor who has served as Chairman of the Commission on Ecumenical Relations of the North Carolina Council of Churches: the Council of Chalcedon dealt with the subject of dual natures by af-firming the inseparability of the two natures, each nature being pre-served and concurring in one person (prosopon) and one subsistence (hy-postasis). 8 Reverend Dickson continues: If this Chalcedonian formulation is given serious attention in contem-porary Protestant thought, some feel the human nature of Christ will not continue to suffer the devaluation of the past, nor will, therefore, its pre- Mary, Bridge to Ecumenism? / 349 cursor in the Incarnation--the Virgin Mary.9 The title, Mother of God, does seem to imply that Mary is divine, and although Protestants accept Mary as the mother of Jesus, tradition-ally they seem to resist the title of "Mother of God." In pagan mythol-ogy, the mother of the god or gods was considered to be a goddess. There seemed to be anxiety in New Testament times from the beginning not to equate Mary with the pagan goddesses, and although this distinc-tion has always been understood by Catholics, it may have looked to Prot-estants that we were divinizing Mary. Popular Religion - An Aid To Ecumenism? In view of the ecumenical dimension, the relationship between sym-bol, basic human need, and religion is very important. Clifford Geertz says that religious symbols provide not only the ability to comprehend the world but to endure it. Man depends upon symbols and symbol systems with a dependence so great as to be decisive for his creatural viability and, as a result, his sen-sitivity to even the remotest indication that they may prove unable to cope with one or another aspect of experience, raises within him the grav-est source of anxiety. ~0 In worship, people tend to clothe God with attributes that will meet their innermost needs. Sometimes in the past the abstract definitions of the theologians left people cold. God was oftentimes seen to be a dis-tant, transcendent God, and a judging God, who dispensed rewards and punishments in strict accordance with one's deeds. People were longing to see him as loving and compassionate, like a mother. If ordinary Catholics had been accustomed to reading the Scripture for themselves, as they are beginning to do now since Vatican II, they might have experienced firsthand the motherly concern of Jesus for the poor, the sick, and the scorned. Probing the Bible now, one is touched, for example, by his attitude toward women, especially disgraced women, regardless of the disapproval of males present. I do understand, however, that Bible reading for Catholics was sharply curtailed at the time of the Reformation due to so many people leaving the Church because of pri-vate interpretation of the Scripture. We understand now that in God there is a perfect balance of so-called masculine and feminine qualities; thanks to insightsfrom psychol-ogy, we are more theologically sophisticated than our predecessors. How-ever, in the early centuries of Christianity, people turned to the feminine Mary, in whom they felt that they had a ready-made mother who cared 350/Review for Religious, May-June 1989 about them. Based, no doubt, on the idea of the communion of saints and the practice of asking for the intercession of the martyrs, who were surely with God, there was a normal development of devotion to Mary, who, as the mother of Jesus, w,a_.,s seen to be more than willing to help those for whom her Son died such a cruel death. Popular Religion And The Apparitions When Catholics finally turn to the Scripture for news of Mary, they are amazed at how little is there! The immense body of material that is available on Mary derives from tradition and also from popular religion, which is based on Mary's relationship to Jesus ~nd the needs of people. Our knowledge of her has been shaped also by .accounts of her various appearances throughout the world. However, as Tambasco comments: ". (the) return to biblical and ecumenical considerations has rightly reduced these devotions to a minor role (p. 71)." Their value is in the Gospel teaching that each affirms. The Church moves very slowly in granting approval for belief in ap-paritions, and even when approval is received, there is no obligation to believe. The one important guideline in regard to any appearance is the fact that nothing is presented or ordered that is contrary to the constant teaching of the Church. An example would be when Mary reportedly appeared to Catherine Labour6 in France in 1830 and to Bernadette Soubirous in Lourdes, also in France, in 1858, she said, "I am the Immaculate Conception," a tra-dition in the Church since the sixth century. At LaSalette she insisted on the observance of the Lord's Day, which the people were ignoring, treating Sunday as any other day. She also re-proved them for blasphemy and taking the Lord's name in vain, thus un-derscoring the second and third commandments. At Fatima she asked them to do penance and to pray for peace. In 1879 at Knock, in County Mayo in Ireland, she said nothing at all! She appeared with St. Joseph and St. John, beside an altar sur-mounted by a lamb and a cross, over which angels hovered. The Irish saw in her appearance a message of comfort for the persecution they had suffered for their faith, dating back to the sixteenth century. They iden-tified the symbols with those of the heavenly liturgy in the Book of Reve-lation, seeing in them an affirmation of their fidelity to worship. Priests had risked their lives to offer the Sacrifice of the Mass, symbolized by the Lamb. St. John the Evangelist is holding the Gospel book in one hand, with the other hand raised, as if he is making a point in a sermon. Mary, Bridge to Ecumenism? / 35"1 The theme or instruction accompanying each visit was not a new teaching in any way, but an old teaching which needed a new emphasis, depending on the times. When I was at Knock in 1987, I remember think-ing to myself: it really doesn't matter whether Mary actually appeared here or not! All around me at the shrine there was evidence of faith, as people prayed, participated in the liturgy, reflected on the passion of Christ at the stations, or were merely kind and friendly to each other. I felt a renewal of my own spirituality in such a faith-filled atmosphere. The element of pilgrimage is, of course, very strong at Knock, and pil-grimage from the earliest days has been a vibrant expression of popular religion among people. Pilgrimage Pilgrimages stemming from the apparition at Lourdes are legendary. According to Victor and Edith Turner (Image & Pilgrimage in Christian Culture, New York, NY: Columbia University Press, 1978), who did an anthropological study on popular religion, people do not necessarily go on pilgrimage for the cure, but for the atmosphere in which their spiritu-ality is nourished. People see a pilgrimage, or a journey, as a symbol of the journey of life, and they value their association with fellow trav-elers oriented toward God in the service of neighbor. There is a leveling of classes on a pilgrimage; kings travel with ordinary folk, as will be the case in heaven. They volunteer as stretcher-bearers or wherever there is a need, and are energized in the role of service to their fellow human be-ings. In writing about pilgrimages to the shrine of Our Lady at Guadalupe, Segundo Galilea says that here the rich can discover the world of the poor and become sensitive to their need for justice and reconciliation. The movement towards Mary obliges the rich to go out of themselves and to meet the poor. It gives the poor a sense of security and allows them to meet the rich without apology, on an equal footing. Mary is, then, one of the rare symbols of integration in Latin America . ~ The apparition at Guadalupe in i 53 I, perhaps one of the first appa-ritions on record, is said to to be a large factor in popular religion in Latin America, and as a result, has given impetus to the liberation theology movement there. It has touched the hearts of the oppressed, making them feel that they are loved by God, and consequently raised in their own self-esteem, to the point where they are seriously struggling for self-determination in their living situation there. 352 / Review for Religious, May-June 1989 Mary and Liberation Theology A new reading of Luke's gospel, which emphasizes salvation his-tory, yields much that is pertinent today in regard to saving, or liberat-ing, the oppressed. Accustomed as we are to seeing Mary as queen, it is a new thing for us Catholics to see Mary as a peasant woman as she was at Guadalupe, and, indeed, at Nazareth. It is a challenge for us to take another look at the Magnificat, which we sing every day in the Liturgy of the Hours. There are places in South America where the recitation of the Magnifi-cat is forbidden, as being subversive. Mary's song begins with the praise of God. "My soul proclaims the glory of the Lord; my spirit rejoices in God my Savior." The use of the word Savior emphasizes her stance with us, in need of salvation. She re-fers to herself as his lowly handmaid, on whom he has looked with fa-vor. All generations will call her blessed because he, the mighty one, has done great things for her. In countries where there is no middle class, but only the poor and the rich, who possess all the wealth of the land, the poor hear Mary's Magnificat message in the Virgin of Guadalupe: He has shown might in his arm; he has scattered the proud in their con-ceit. He has cast down the mighty from their thrones and has lifted up the lowly. He has filled the hungry with good things and the rich he has sent away empty (Lk 1:51-53). They look to God for the mercy he promised to "our fathers,"-- and here all peoples sharing the Fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of Christ, unite in looking back even to the patriarchs, to whom God prom-ised mercy and liberation, which was accomplished first through Moses and eventually through Jesus Christ. And now there is hope for these poor also. The Exodus and Exile theme of liberation fit the situaiion to-day. A new look at Scripture will allow us to see Mary as homeless and as an exile, driveh out of her homeland to Egypt for the safety of her child. Popular religion often forges ahead of the theologians, and the hier-archy has only recently given its approval to the liberation theology move-ment in Latin America. A Latin American theologian says that the Mariology of Vatican II was more preoccupied by dialogue and relations with Protestants than with the simple people and popular Mariology. What is important now is to prolong the'deep and rich Mariological affirmations of Vatican II by a popular Mariology, a renewed Mariology . ~2 Mary, Bridge to Ecumenism? / 353 The basic idea of this renewed Mariology is that Mary is the sign and sacrament of the motherly mercy of God towards the poor, of the ten-derness of God who loves and defends the poor (Puebla, no. 291). ~3 (ital-ics mine) How will these considerations serve as an ecumenical bridge for us? By recognizing the need among peoples for freedom of conscience, free-dom from oppression, freedom of religion, justice for all. It is said that the problem with the doctrines presented for belief in former days was not with the dogmas themselves, but with authority. (Belief in the Im-maculate Conception predated the Reformation.) The wording was that he who did not believe, let him be anathema! Even Martin Luther did not deny the doctrines themselves, but pronounced them pious opinions. John XXIII insisted that there be no condemnations! He condemned no one. Evangelization itself must be an invitation, even a lure, to Christi-anity. No one is to be coerced in this matter in any way. John Paul II in Mother of the Redeemer.says that the Church's jour-ney now, near the end of the second Christian millennium, involves a renewed commitment to her mission. In the words of the Magnificat, the Church renews in herself the awareness that the truth about God who saves cannot be separated from his love of preference for the poor and humble, expressed in the word and works of Jesus. These points are di-rectly related to the Christian meaning of freedom and liberation' (p. 51 ). One must be free from oppression in order to respond to the call of Christ to do one's part toward the building up of the kingdom of God. In discussing Mary's role at the wedding feast at Cana, when she ad-vised Jesus that "they had no wine," the Pope sees this as expressing a new kind of motherhood according to the spirit and not just according to the flesh, that is to say, Mary's solicitude for human beings, her com-ing to th'em in the wide variety of their wants and needs (P. 30-1). I feel that the orientation toward ecumenism observed at Vatican Council II, especially in regard to Mary, has borne fruit and hopefully will continue to do so in the future. I am intrigued by the interpretation offered by Edward Yarnold in regard to reconciling Protestants and Catholics in regard to the Immacu-late Conception and the Assumption. It is possible that Christians disagree over the symbolic form of doctrine, while not disagreeing over the theological meaning. Thus, Roman Catho-lics could take literally that Mary was immaculately conceived and then assumed into heaven, but that is just the symbolic meaning. Protestants might not agree with that, but could accept the ultimate theological mean- 354/Review for Religious, May-June 1989 ing that says God's grace requires response, providers conditions for re-sponse, and results in sanctification even after death. There would thus be theological unity with a plurality regarding symbolic meaning. ~'~ When the late Rev. Arthur Carl Piepkorn, was professor at Concor-dia Seminary, St. Louis, he explained that "other Christians" (he did not refer to them as non-Catholics) have taken hope from references to Mary at Vatican II as follows: It may yet happen in our time that there will come about a happy bal-ance between excess ardor in the veneration of the Mother of God and in excessive coldness to the role that God himself has given her in the drama of human salvation. If it does, as I pray it will, we shall see in our time what the "Mag-nificat" placed on the lips of the mother of God--'All generations will count me blessed.' Other Christians feel that the more we esteem Mary, the more we honor her Son; when men (sic) refuse to honor Mary, they really do not believe in the Incarnation.~5 NOTES ~ William L. Lahey, "The Blessed Virgin Mary in the Theology and Devotion of the Seventeenth-Century Anglican Divines," Marian.Studies,,XXXVlll (1987), p. 143. 2 Anthony J. Tambasco, "Mary in Ecumenical Perspective," What Are They Say-ing About Mary? (Ramsey, N.J.: Paulist Press, 1984), p. 54. 3 lbid, p. 57. '~ lbid, p. 58. 5 lbid, p. 60. 6 Richard P. McBrien, Catholicism (Minneapolis: Winston Press Inc., 1980), p. 873. 7 Ibid. 8 Charles W. Dickson, Ph.'D., "Is a Protestant Mariology Possible?" Queen of All Hearts (Vol. XXXIX, No. 4) Nov./Dec. 1988, p. 26. Quoted from Willison Walker-- A History.of the Christian Church, p. 139. 9 lbid, p. 26. ~0 Clifford Geertz, "Religion as a Cultural System," Anthropological Approaches to the Study of Religion (London: Travistock Publications, Ltd., 1968), p. 13. ~ Segundo Galilea, "Mary in Latin American Liberation Theologies," ed. Bertrand de Margerie, S.J., Marian Studies, XXXVIII (1987), p. 57. ~2 Victor Codina, "Mary in Latin American Liberation Theologies," ed. Bertrand de Margerie, S.J., Marian Studies, XXXVIII (1987), p. 49. ~3 Ibid. 14 Quoted in Tambasco, What Are They Saying About Mary? p. 64. ~5 "Lutheran Hails Mary in Vatican ll's Words," The Boston Pilot (June 29, 1973), p. 2. Prayer and Devotion to Mary: A Bibliography Thomas G. Bourque, T.O.R. Father Thomas Bourque, T.O.R., is Chairperson of the Philosophical and Religious Studies Department of St. Francis College in Loretto, Pennsylvania. He has been involved in youth ministry, parish ministry, and the ministry of Catholic education and adul( education. His address is St. Francis College; Loretto, PA 15940. The Marian Year is meant to promote a new and more careful reading of what the Council said about the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God, in the mystery of Christ and of the Church . We speak not only of the doctrine of faith but also of the life of faith, and thus of authentic "Marian spirituality," seen in the light of tradition, and especially the spirituality to which the Council exhorts us. Marian spirituality, like its corresponding devotion, finds a very rich source in the historical expe-rience of individuals and of the various Christian communities present among the different peoples and nations of the world. John Paul II Mother of the Redeemer, #48 ~,lohn Paul II invites all of us to reflect upon our.journey of faith with our Lord in light of our relationship with his Mother Mary. As many Catho-lics and Christians continue to question the role of Mary in the Church today, the Pope's encyclical is very timely. Solid devotion to Mary can only spring from an authentic knowledge of her role in salvation history. The Mariology of John Paul lI's encyc-lical, Mother of the Redeemer, as well as the Mariology of Paul Vl's ex-hortation, Devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary, can truly be summed in the words of Paul VI: "In Mary, everything is relative to Christ and de-pendent upon him." Both pontiffs remind us that Mary is never to be 355 356 / Review for Religious, May-June 1989 considered in isolation. She must be seen in relationship to Christ, the head, and to his Body, the Church. Both Paul VI and John Paul II con-tinually link Mary to Christ, and not only is Mary Mother of Jesus, but also to the Church. The basic principle of Mariology is that Mary is Mother and Associ-ate of the Redeemer. She is a woman of faith, simplicity, loving avail-ability, and a disciple of faith. As a follow-up to the Marian year, the following selected bibliogra-phy is offered as an aid for reflection and prayer. This selected bibliog-raphy can serve as a guide to study and reflection on the contemporary devotion to Mary. The concentration of this work is a modern approach to Mariology from the time of the apostolic exhortation, Devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary, to the time of promulgation of the encyclical let-ter, Mother of the Redeemer. The selected bibliography is divided into four sections. The first sec-tion consists of books which deal with Marian prayer, devotion and spiri-tuality. The second section lists articles from periodicals from the years 1974 to 1987. Encyclicals and pastoral letters are cited in the third sec-tion, while typescripts and tape cassettes of value are cited in the fourth section. Books and Pamphlets: Ashe, Geoffrey. The Virgin. London: Routledge and Paul, 1976. ¯ Bojorge, Horacio. The Image of Mary: According to the Evangelists. New York: Alba House, 1978. Branick, Vincent P., ed. Mary, the Saint and the Church. Ramsey, New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1980. Brown, Raymond E., ed. Mary in the New Testament. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1978. Buby, Bertrand. Mary: The Faithful Disciple~. New York: Paulist Press, 1985. Callahan, Sidney. The Magnificat: The Prayer of Mary. New York: Seabury Press, 1975. Carberry, John Cardinal. Mary Queen and Mother: Marian Pastoral Reflections. Boston: St. Paul Editions, 1979. Carretto, Carlo. Blessed Are You Who Believed. Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1982. Carroll, Eamon R. Understanding the Mother of Jesus. Wilmington, Delaware: Michael Glazier, Inc., 1979. Cunningham, Lawrence and Sapieha, Nicolas. Mother of God. San Francisco: Harper & Row, Publishers, 1982. A Mary Bibliography / 357 Deiss, Lucien. Mary, Daughter of Zion. Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1972. Flanagan, Donal. In Praise of Mary. Dublin: Veritas Publications, 1975. --. The Theology of Mary. Hales Corner, Wisconsin: Clergy Book Service, 1976. Flannery, Austin P. The Documents of Vatican II. New York: Pillar Books, 1975. Graef, Hilda C. Mary: A History of Doctrine and Devotion. New York: Sheed and Ward, Two Volumes, (Volume I, 1963 and Volume II, 1965). --. The Devotion to Our Lady. Milwaukee: The Bruce Publishing Company, 1963. Greeley, Andrew M. The Mary Myth: On the Femininity of God. New York: Seabury Press, 1977. Griolet, Pierre. You Call Us Together." Prayers For the Christian As-sembly. Paramus, New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1974. Guste, Bob. Mary At My Side. Mystic: Twenty-Third Publications, 1986. Habig, Marion. The Franciscan Crown. Chicago: Franciscan Her-ald Press, 1976. Harrington, W. J. The Rosary: A Gospel Prayer. Canfield, Ohio: Alba House, 1975. Haughton, Rosemary. Feminine Spirituality: Reflections on the Mys-tery of the Rosary. Paramus, New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1976. Hertz, G. Following Mary Today. Huntington, Indiana: Our Sunday Visitor Press, 1979. Houselander, Caryil. Lift Up Your Hearts to Mary, Peace, Prayer, Love. New York: Arena Letters, 1978. Hurley, Dermot. Marian Devotion For Today. Dublin: C. G. Neale, 1971. Jegen, Carol Frances. Mary According To Women. Kansas City: Leaven Press, 1985. Jelly, Frederick. Madonna: Mary in the Catholic Tradition. Hunt-ington, Indiana: Our Sunday .Visitor Press, 1986. Johnson, Ann. Miryam of Judah: Witness in Truth and Tradition. Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1987. --. Miryam of Nazareth. Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1986. Jungman, Joseph A. Christian Prayer Through The Centuries. New York: Paulist Press, 1978. 351t/Review for Religious~ May-June 1989 Kern, Walter. New Liturgy and Old Devotions. Staten Island, New York: Alba House, 1979, 119-184. Kung, Hans and Moltmann, Jurgen. ed. Mary in the Churches. New York: Seabury Press, 1983, Concilium, volume 168. La Croix, Francois de. The Little Garden of Our Blessed Lady. Ilkley, England: Scholar Press, 1977. Long, Valentine. The Mother of God. Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1976. Maestri, William. Mary: Model of Justice. New York: Alba House, 1987. Malinski, Mieczslaw. Joyful, Sorrowful, Glorious Reflections on Life and Rosary. Chicago: Claretian Publications, 1979. Maloney, George A. Mary: The Womb of God. Denville, New Jer-sey: Dimension Books, 1976. Moloney, John. Pilgrims With Mary. Dublin, Ireland: Irish Messen-ger, 1976. Obbard, Elizabeth Ruth. Magnificat: The Journey and the Song. New York: Paulist Press, 1986. Pelikan, Jaroslav. Flusser, David. Lang, Justin. Mary: Images of the Mother of Jesus in Jewish and Christian Perspective. Philadelphia: For-tress Press, 1986. Pennington, Basil. Daily We Touch Him. Garden City, New Jersey: Doubleday, 1977, 135-148. Rahner, Karl. Mary, Mother of the Lord. New York: Herder and Herder, 1963. Randall, John. Mary, Pathway To Fruitfulness. Locust Valley, New York: Living Flame Press, 1978. Ratzinger, Joseph. Daughter Zion: Meditations On The Church's Marian Belief. San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1983. Rosage, David. Praying With Mary. Locust Valley, New York: Liv-ing Flame Press, 1980. Ruether, Rosemary Radford. Mary, the Feminine Face of the Church. Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1977. Schillebeeckx, Edward. Mary, Mother of the Redemption. London: Sheed and Ward, 1964, 164ff. Sheed, Frank. The Instructed Heart--Soundings At Four Depths. Huntington, Indiana: Our Sunday Visitor Press, 1979. Stevens, Clifford. The Blessed Virgin: Her L~]'e & Her Role In Our Lives. Huntington, Indiana: Our Sunday Visitor Press, 1986. Tambasco, Anthony. What Are They Saying About Mary? New A Mary Bibliography / 359 York: Paulist Press, 1984. Unger, Dominic J. The Angelus. Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1956. Viano, Joseph. Two Months With Mary. New York: Alba House, 1984. Wright, John Cardinal. Mary Our Hope. San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1984. Articles: Abberton, J. "On the Parish: Marian Devotion." Clergy Review. 63 (April 1978), 147-150. Albrecht, Barbara. "Mary: Type and Model of the Church." REvtEw ~oR REt~tG~Ot~S. 36 (1977), 517-524. Alfaro, Juan. "The Marioiogy of the Fourth Gospel: Mary and the Struggles for Liberation." Biblical Theology Bulletin. 10 (January 1980), 3-16. Barrionveuo, C. "For A Better Rosary." Christ to the Christian World. 18 (I 979), 304-307. Billy, Dennis J. "The Marian Kernel." REview ~oR R~t.~ous. 43 (May/June 1983), 415-420. Blackburn, Robert E. "The Reed of God Continues To Flourish." U.S. Catholic. 47 (May 1982), 2. Browne, Dorothy. "Mary, the Contemplative." Spiritual Life. 23 (Spring 1977), 49-60. Buby, B. "The Biblical Prayer of Mary: Luke 2:19-51 ." R~v~w RE~.tG~Ot~S. 39 (July 1980), 577-581. Buono, Anthony M. "The Oldest Prayers to Mary." Catholic Di-gest. 48 (August 1984), 111-113. Burns, Robert E. "Don't Let Sleeping Devotions Lie." U.S. Catho-lic. 52 (January 1987), 2. Carberry, John Cardinal. "Marialis Cultis: A Priestly Treasure." Homiletic and Pastoral Review. 78 (May ! 978), 7-13. Carroll, Eamon. "A Survey of Recent Marioiogy." Marian Stud-ies. 36 (1985), 101-127. b. "A Survey of Recent Mariology." Marian Studies. 35 (1984), 157-187. --. "A Survey of Recent Marioiogy." Marian Studies. 31 (1980), 11-154 (Similar surveys may be found within volumes 24 to 31 of Marian Studies). b. "A Woman For All Seasons." U.S. Catholic. 39 (October 1974), 6-11. 360 / Review for Religious, May-June 1989 --. "In the Company of Mary." Modern Liturgy. 9 (May 1982), 4-10. -- "Mary After Vatican II." St. Anthony Messenger. 91 (May 1984), 36-40. --. "Mary and the Church: Trends in Marian Theology Since Vati-can II." New Catholic World. 229 (November-December 1986), 248- 250. --. "Mary, Blessed Virgin: Devotion." New Catholic Encyclope-dia. 9 (1967), 364-369. -- "Mary: The Woman Come Of Age." Marian Studies. 36 (1985), 136-160. --. "Prayer and Spirituality: The Blessed Virgin Mary in Catholic Prayer-Life." Today Catholic Teacher. 12 (March 1979), 40-41. Chantraine, George. "Prayer Within the Church." Communio. 12 (Fall 1985), 258-275. Ciappi, L. "The Blessed Virgin Mary Today and the Contemporary Appeal of the Rosary." Origins. 44 (October 30, 1975), 4. Clark, Allan. "Marialis Cultus." Tablet. 228 (April 6, 1974), 354- 356. Colavechio, X. "The Relevance of Mary." Priest. 36 (June 1980), 14-16. Coleman, William V. "A Peasant Woman Called to Guide the Church." Today's Parish. 13 (May-June 1981), 7. Coiledge, E. "The Church At Prayer: To The Mother of God." Way. 19 (July 1979), 230-239 and 19 (October 1979), 314-321. Conner, Paul. "The Rosary Old Or New?" Sisters Today. 59 (Oc-tober 1986), 108- I 10. Curran, Patricia. "Women Reclaim the Magnificat." Sisters Today. 55 (August-September 1983), 24-30. Daly, Anne Carson. "A Woman For All Ages." Homiletic and Pas-toral Review. 86 (May 1986), 19-22. Davies, Brian A. "Mary In Christian Practice." Doctrine and Life. 26 (June 1976), 403-407. Deak, Mary Ann. "Mary's Faith: A Model For Our Own." Catho-lic Update. UPD 108 (I 978). Dehne, Carl. "Roman Catholic Popular Devotions." Worship. 49 (October 1975), 446-460. Demarco, A. "Hail Mary." New Catholic Encyclopedia. 6 (1967), 898. Donnelly, Dorothy H. "Mary, Model of Personal Spirituality." A Mary Bibliography / 361 New Catholic World. 219 (March-April 1976), 64-68. Emery, Andree. "On Devotion To Mary." New Covenant. 11 (May 1982), 12-14. Finley, Mitchel. "Rediscovering The Rosary." America. 148 (May 7, 1983), 351. Fischer, Patricia. "The Scriptural Rosary: An Ancient Prayer Re-vived." Catechist. 20 (October 1986), 21. Flanagan, Donald. "The Veneration of Mary: A New Papal Docu-ment." Furrow. 25 (1974), 272-277. Frehen, H. "The Principles of Marian Devotion." The Marian Era. 10 (1971), 34-36 and 272-277. Foley, Leonard. "Mary: Woman Among Us." St. Anthony Messen-ger. 94 (May 1987), 12-16. Gabriele, Edward. "In Search of the Woman: Reformulating the Mary Symbol in Contemporary Spirituality." Priest. 42 (February 1986), 28-29. Gaffney, John P. "APortrait of Mary." Cross and Crown. 24 ~Spring 1975), 129-138. h. "Marialis Cultis: Guidelines to Effective Preaching." Priest. 38 (December 1982), 14-18. Galligan, John Sheila. "Mary: A Mosaic Joy." REw~wFoR R~L~G~Ot~S. 43 (January-February 1984), 82-92. Galot, Jean. "Why the Act of Consecration to Our Lady?" Origins. 3 (January 18, 1982), Galvin, John P. "A Portrait of Mary In the Theology of Karl Rahner." New Catholic World. 229 (November-December 1986), 280- 285. Gordon, Mary. "Coming To Terms With Mary." Commonweal. 109 (January 15, 1982), 1. Green, Austin~ "The Rosary: A Gospel Prayer." Cross and Crown. 28 (June 1976), 173-178. Grisdela, Catherine. "How May Processions Began." Religion Teacher's Journal. 18 (April-May 1984), 28. Gustafson, J. "A Woman For All Seasons." Modern Liturgy. 9 (May 1982), 4-10. Hamer, Jean Jerome Cardinal. "Mary, Our Foremost Model." Con-templative Life. 10 (1985), 173- i 74. Hanson, R. "The Cult of Mary as Development of Doctrine." Way ,Supplement. 51 (Fall 1984), 8-96. Hebblethwaite, P. "The Mariology of Three Popes." Way Supple- 369/Review for Religious, May-June 1989 merit. 51 (Fall 1984), 8-96. Herrera, Marina. "Mary of Nazareth in Cross-cultural Perspective." Professional Approaches For Christian Educators. 16 ( i 986), 236-240. Hinneburgh, W.A. "Rosary." New Catholic Encyclopedia. 12 (I 967), 667-670. Hofinger, Johannes. "Postconciliar Marian Devotions." Priest. 37 (January 1981), 43-45 and 37 (February 1981), 15-17. Hogan, Joseph. "Hail Mary." Sisters Today. 57 (January 1986), 258-261. Jegen, C. "Mary, Mother of a Renewing Church." Bible Today. 24 (May 1986), 143-166. Jelly, Frederick M. "Marian Dogmas Within Vatican II's Hierar-chy of Truths." Marian Studies. 27 (1976). --. "Marian Renewal Among Christians." Homiletic and Pastoral Review. 79 (May 1979), 8-16. --. "Reply to 'Homage To a Great Pope and His Marian Devotion: Paul VI.' " Marian Studies. 31 (1980), 96-98. -- "The Mystery of Mary's Meditation." Homiletic and Pastoral Review. 80 (May 1980), 11-20. Johnson, Elizabeth A. "The Marian Tradition and the Reality of Women." Horizons. 12 (Spring 1985), 116-135. Karris, Robert J. "Mary's Magnificat and Recent Study." REVIEW ~OR REt~G~OUS. 42 (November-December 1983), 903-908. Keolsch, Charity Mary. "Mary and Contemplation In the Market-place." Sisters Today. 54 (June-July 1983), 594-597. Kerrigan, Michael P. "The Beginnings Of A New And Prosperous Way of Life." New Catholic World. 229 (November-December 1986), 251. Kleinz, John P. "How We Got The Hail Mary." Catholic Digest. 50 (May 1986), 55-57. Koehler, A. "Blessed From Generation to Generation: Mary In Pa-tristics and the History of the Church." Seminarium. 27 (1975), 578- 606. --. "Homage To A Great Pope And His Marian Devotion." Marian Studies. 31 (1980), 66-95. Krahan, Maria. "The Rosary." Mount Carmel. (Autumn 1977), 124-131. Kress, Robert. "Mariology and the Christian's Self-Concept." REVIEW ~OR RELiGiOUS. 31 (1972), 414-419. Lawrence, Claude. "The Rosary From the Beginning To Our Day." A Mary Bibliography / 363 Christian World. 28 (July-August 1983), 194-201. Leckey, Dolores. "The Rosary Time of My Life." Catholic Digest. 47 (October 1983), 57-58. Leskey, Roberta Ann. "Ways To Celebrate Mary." Religion Teacher's Journal. 17 (April-May 1983), 28-29. Lewela, M. Pauline. "Mary's Faith-Model Of Our Own: A Reflec-tion." Africa Theological Journal. 27 (April 1985), 92-98. Low, Charlotte. "The Madonna's Decline and Revival." Insight. (March 9, 1987), 61-63. MacDonald, Donald. "Mary: Our Encouragement In Christ." REviEw FOR REt.tG~Ot~S. 44 (May-June 1985), 350-359. -- "Our Lady of Wisdom." REvtzw FOR REt.~G~Ot~S. 46 (May-June 1986), 321-331. Main, John. "The Other-Centeredness of Mary." R~w~w FOR RELIG~Ot~S. 38 (March 1979), 267-278. Maloney, George A. "A New But Ancient Mariology." Diakonia. 8 (I 973). 303-305. -- "Do Not Be Afraid To Take Mary Home." Catholic Charis-matic. 1 (October-November 1976), 30-33. --. "Mary and the Church As Seen By the Early Fathers." Diakonia. 9 (1974). Marino, Eugene A. "Mary: The Link Between Liturgy and Doc-trine." Origins. 14 (December 27, 1984), 467-471. Marshner, William H. "Criteria For Doctrinal Development in Marian Dogmas." Marian Studies. 28 (1977), 47-97. "Mary and the Saints." National Bulletin on Liturgy. 12 (Septem-ber- October ! 979), 178-183. Mary Francis. "Blessed Mary: Model of Contemplative Life." Homi-letic and Pastoral Review. 8 i (Mary 1981), 6-12. Mary of the Sacred Heart. "Remember the Rosary." Religion Teacher's Journal. 20 (October 1986),39-40. McAteer, Joan. "What the Rosary Means to Me." Ligourian. 72 (October 1984), 16-20. McCarry, Vincent P. "Mary, Teach Us To Pray." Catholic Digest. 50 (May 1986), 40-43. McDermott, John Michael. "Time For Mary." Homiletic and Pas-toral Review. 83 (May ! 983), I i- 15. McHugh, John. "On True Devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary." The Way Supplement. 25 (Summer 1975), 69-79. McNamara, Kevin. "Devotion to The Immaculate Heart of Mary." 364 / Review for Religious, May-June 1989 Furrow. 36 (October 1985), 599-604. -- "Mary Today." Furrow. 31 (July 1980), 428-450. Miller, Ernest F. "Why We Honor Mary?" Liguorian. 63 (August 1975), 13-15. Montague, George. "Behold Your Mother." New Covenant. 10 (May 198 I), 4-7. Moore, M. and Welbers, T. "The Rosary Revisited." Modern Lit-urgy. 9 (May 1982), 4-10. Motzel, Jaqueline. "Growing Through the Rosary." Liguorian. 73 (October 1985), 28-3 I. NC News Service. "Mary: An Image of Obedience and Freedom." Our Sunday Visitor. 75 (April 12, 1987), 17. Nienaltowski, Mary Ellen and Metz, Kathleen. "How Do We Pray The Rosary?" Religion Teacher's Journal. 21 (March 1987), 17-18. Noone, P. "Why Catholics Hail Mary?" U.S. Catholic. 44 (May 1979), 47-49. Nouwen, Henri J. "The Icon of the Virgin of Vladimir: An Invita-tion to Belong to God." America. 152 (May 1 I, 1985), 387-390. O'Carroll, M. "Recent Literature On Our Lady." Irish Theologi-cal Quarterly. 45 (I 978), 281-286. Offerman, Mary Columba. "Mary, Cause of Our Joy: A Bibliogra-phy On Mariology." REvl~.w ~oR RE~.~lous. 35 (1976), 730-734. Palazzini, P. "The Exhortation Marialis Cultus and the Rosary." Origins. 27 (July 4, 1974), 9-10. Pellegrino, M. "Comments on the Apostolic Exhortation: Marialis Cultus." L'Osservatore Romano. 35 (August 29, 1974), 3-1 I. Pennington, M. Basil. "The Rosary: An Ancient Prayer For All Of Us.'" Our Sunday Visitor. 72 (October 23, 1983), 3-ff. Peter, Val J. "Marian Theology and Spirituality." Communio. 7 (Summer 1980), 100-178. Puzon, B. "All Generations Shall Call Me Blessed." Sisters Today. 45 (May 1974), 533-537. Quinn, Jerome D. "Mary the Virgin, Mother of God." Bible To-day. 25 (May 1987), 177-180. Rasmussen, Eileen. "Accept Devotion To Mary." National Catho-lic Reporter. 11 (January 3 I, 1975), I I- 14. Rausch, Thomas P. "The Image of Mary: A Catholic Response." America. 146 (March 27, 1982), 231-234. Roberts, William P. "Mary and Today's Classroom." Catechist. 18 (April-May 1985), 28-29. A Mary Bibliography / 365 Schreck, Alan. "Devotion To Mary." New Covenant. 13 (July- August 1983), 14-18. Senior, Donald. "New Testament Images of Mary." Bible Today. 24 (May 1986), 143-166. Shea, John J. "Mary's Melody of Amazing Grace." U.S. Catho-lic. 47 (May 1982), 6-10. Smith, Herbert. "Mary: Mother and Disciple." Liguorian. 73 (Oc-tober 1985), 52-53. Smith, Joanmarie. "Re-Seeing the Rosary." Professional Ap-proaches for Christian Educators. 16 (1986), 12-15. Smith, Patricia. "Images and Insights: Mary In A Modern Mode." New Catholic World. 229 (November-December 1986), 269-273. Smolenski, Stanley. "Rosary or Chaplet?" Homiletic and Pastoral Review. 86 (October 1985),9-15. Snyder, Bernadette. "Who's Praying the Rosary Today?" Liguorian. 74 (October 1986), 2-6. Speyr, A. "Prayer In The Life Of The Blessed Virgin." Commu-nio. 7 (Summer 1980), 113-126. Stahel, Thomas H. "Redemptoris Mater." America. 156 (May 2, 1987), 353-354. Tambasco, A. "Mary: A Biblical Portrait For Imitation." New Catholic World. 229 (November-December 1986), 244-271. Tannehill, R.C. "The Magnificat As Poem." Journal of Biblical Lit-erature. 93 (1974), 263-275. Tutas, Stephen R. 'Who Is Mary For Me?" REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. 43 (September-October 1984), 778-780. Unger, Dominic J. "Does the New Testament Give Much Histori-cal Information About the Blessed Virgin or Mostly Symbolic Mean-ing?" Marianum. (1977), 323-347. Van Bemmel, John. "How To Pray The Rosary." Religion Teacher's Journal. 17 (April-May 1983), 29-30. Ward, Jack. "The Rosary-A Valuable Praying and Teaching Tool." Catechist. 19 (October 1985), 24-25. Ware, Kallistos, Timothy. "The Jesus Prayer and the Mother of God." Eastern Churches Review. (Autumn 1972), 149-150. Zyromski, Page. "Rosary Meditations Especially For Catechists." Catechist. 20 (October 1986), 20-22. Church Documents, Pastoral Letters and Addresses: John Paul II. "Address to a General Audience About the Rosary As An Opportunity of Pray With Mary." Origins. 44 (November 2, 1981 ), 366 / Review for Religious, May-June 1989 --. "Address to the Faithful About Mary and Her Spiritual Testa-ment." Origins. 30 (July 25, 1983), 2. --. "Address to the Faithful Saying That With the Rosary We Are Armed With the Cross and the Word." Origins. 41 (October 10, 1983), I. --. "Address to the Faithful Saying That Mary Is Present In Every Liturgical Action." Origins. 8 (February 20,, 1984), 10. --. Address to the Faithful Stressing Devotion to Mary Our Mother." Origins. 880 (April 9, 1985), 12. ~. "Address to the Faithful Urging Honor to the Infinite Majesty of God Through Mary." Origins. 891 (June 24, 1985), I. --. "Homily Announcing A Fourteen Month Marian Year To Be-gin Pentecost Sunday." Origins. 16 (January 15, 1987), 563-565. --. Mother of the Redeemer. Boston: Daughters of St. Paul, 1987. --. "Renewal of the Act of Consecration of the World to the Mother of God." Origins. 14 (April 2, 1984), 9-10. --. Redemptoris Mater. Tablet. 241 (March 28, 1987), 355-359. National Catholic Conference of Bishops. Behold Your Mother: Woman of Faith. (Pastoral Letter on the Blessed Virgin Mary). Wash-ington, D.C.: United States Catholic Conference, November 21, 1973. Paul VI. "Apostolic Exhortation: Marialis Cultus." L'Osservatore Romano. April 4, 1974. ~. "Mary, Model of the Church." REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. 34 (March 1976), 161 - 164. ~. "Renewal of Devotion to Mary." The Pope Speaks. 20 (1975), 199-203. --. Devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary. Boston: Daughters of St. Paul, 1974. Poletti, U. Cardinal. "Significance, Value and Practice of Devotion to the Rosary." Origins. 42 (October 16, 1975), 9. Transcripts, Lectures and Tapes: Clark, Alan. "The Holy Spirit and Mary." Mary's Place In Chris-tian Dialogue. (Occasional Papers and Lectures of the Ecumenical), 1982, 79-88. DeSatage, John and McHugh, John. "Bible and Tradition in Regard to the Blessed Virgin Mary: Lumen Gentium." Mary's Place In Chris-tian Dialogue. (Occasional Papers and Lectures of the Ecumenical), 1982, 51-60. Dimock, Giles. "Practical Devotion to Mary." Marian Conference A Mary Bibliography / 367 at the University of Steubenville, 1986, (Cassette). Hutchinson, Gloria. Mary, Companion For Our Journey. Cincinnati: St. Anthony Messenger Press, 1986, (Cassettes). Peffley, Bill. Prayerful Pauses With Jesus and Mary. Mystic: Twenty-Third Publications, 1987, (Audiocassettes). Pittman, Robert S. "The Marian Homilies of Hesychius of Jerusa-lem." Ph.D. Thesis. Catholic University of America, 1974. Powers, Isaias. Quiet Places With Mary: A Guided Imagery Retreat. Mystic: Twenty-Third Publications, 1986, (Audiocassettes). Scanlan, Michael. "Prominence of Mary: The Time of Visitation." Marian Conference at the University of Steubenville, 1986, (Cassette). Ware, Kallistos. "The Mother of God in Orthodox Theology and Devotion." Mary's Place in Christian Dialogue. (Occasional Papers and Lectures of the Ecumenical), 1982, 169- ! 81. An Ignatian Contemplation on the Baptism of Our Lord Michael W. Cooper, S.J. Father Michael Cooper, S.J., teaches in the Theology Department and the Institute of Pastoral Studies at Loyola University of Chicago. His address is 6525 N. Sheri-dan Road; Chicago, Illinois 60626. Baptism has once again become an integral part of the Christian experi-ence. Instead of simply an individual event between God and the bap-tized, the sacrament once more celebrates a person's entrance into the community of believers. Moreover, with the renewal and expansion of the understanding of ministry, it is baptism that now offers the founda-tion for the call to mission and service for every member of the People of God. Even with all these rich theological and liturgical developments, I have still found it difficult to make any vital connection between them and my own baptism. In part, I simply have no sentiments or recollec-tions to explore or deepen. Like many other pre-Conciliar born, I was rushed to the local parish on the Sunday following my birth to save me from a sudden case of limbo. Nor does my mother have any spiritual re-membrances of my baptism to share with me, since on that day she was still in the hospital recuperating from my worldly entrance. Thus until very recently the experiential and spiritual sense of my own baptism re-mained in a limbo of its own. The meaning and power of my own baptism finally came alive, how-ever, as I shared Jesus' experience of his own baptism during several pe-riods of prayer on my recent thirty-day retreat. The thrust of contempo-rary spirituality reminds us to pay close attention to our human experi-ence- whether in prayer, in ministry, or in the rest of life--and to ask 368 Contemplation on Baptism / 369 what the Lord might be saying or how he might be inviting. Often these moments become actual revelations of God's living Word for us-~either individually or collectively. Through these experiences we realize the Gos-pel no longer as. a onetime event in the past but as always happening-- and now most immediately to us. From this perspective of the ongoing Gospel I share the fruits of a very transforming experience of the baptism of our Lord. Though admit-tedly the very personal encounter of one individual, maybe my experi-ence will contribute to our collective efforts to reclaim the experiential and spiritual roots of our baptismal call to community and ministry with God's people. I entitled this article "An Ignatian Contemplation . . ." to highlight a very definite approach to praying the Scriptures. Instead of methodi-cally plodding through the Gospel, I contemplated, that is, I watched at-tentively and receptively the scene of our Lord's baptism, letting it touch my mind and heart. I began by reading through the scripture text (Mt 3:13-17) several times, then I put down my Bible, closed my eyes, and let the event come alive before the inner eye of my imagination. Following Ignatius' instructions in the Spiritual Exercises (no. 114), I then took my place in the scene, so that I would be experiencing the baptism as an engaged participant and not as a disinterested spectator. Paying attention to the persons, their words, and their actions, I contem-plated the event as if it were happening now for the first time. On the banks of the Jordan, Jesus steps out from the crowd and pre-sents himself to his cousin John for baptism. His voice filled with emo-tion, John protests saying, "I should be baptized by you, yet you come to me!" But Jesus responds very straightforwardly. "Let it be for now." Then in a very powerful moment of the contemplation, I hear Jesus go on to explain himself, "I'm no different from the rest of the people gath-ered here. We're all struggling to gain our human freedom and whole-ness. With all the fear and unfreedoms we carry around from growing up plus all the pressures and demands on us today, it's a wonder we're not more wounded than we are." For Jesus, this very heartfelt experience becomes his baptism into a deep identification and solidarity with the rest of the human family united together in the struggle to become more human and free. Jesus' words to John then cannot be taken as some sort of pious self-effacement. Rather, our brother Jesus is experiencing his baptism as a deep, deep bond-edness with the human family gathered at the healing waters of rebirth and wholeness. 370/Review for Religious, May-June 1989 As I continue to contemplate the baptism unfolding before me, I am drawn to even closer physical proximity with Jesus by the magnetism of his human compassion and tenderness. At the same time I begin to feel close again to several friends from whom I have parted company because of certain decisions on their part that hurt me very deeply. Along with this new feeling of closeness comes the realization that despite the pain and darkness that have separated us, there exists a deeper bond of soli-darity in the human struggle that binds us together. We are no different from each other or from the rest of the people on the face of the earth. In one way or another we are each carrying around within us parts of our wounded child and of our stressed adult. The shadow of our fuller human potential and psychic wholeness always seems to lie just beyond our reach. With this realization a lot of the bite to my pain and anger subsides and I hear myself saying very serenely, "In our choices and endeavors, we really do try to give as much as we can at the moment. Sometimes our responses aren't adequate or all that the situation might call for or that we or others might hope for. Because we will always be carrying around our wounded and unfinished selves, we at times end up creating pain and darkness--for others as well as for ourselves--despite our best and freest possible intentions at that moment. I am no different from the rest of mortals. We are all in our own way longing and strug-gling for our human freedom and wholeness as daughters and sons of the living God." These intense feelings of solidarity with my friends that ac-company these reflections free me to let go of a lot more of the pain and misunderstanding in our relationship. And almost immediately these peo-ple actually appear on the banks of the Jordan and, ecstatic and teary-eyed, we embrace one another. By this time Jesus and John are sitting off to the side talking intently to one another. I am savoring the wonderful feelings of reconciliation and the pure joy of this moment when all of a sudden my attention switches. Several close friends for whom I had initially been either .teacher, spiritual director, or mentor become present to me. These new feelings of solidarity in the human struggle now bring a different sort of bondedness with them. Any leftover images of being in some way "the expert" or "the helper" or simply the one who is a couple of steps ahead of the others seem to disappear forever. I am just acutely aware of'how similar our journeys and struggles have been at such a profound level. A marvelous celebration of deep friendship and belonging to each other takes place as they, too, appear on the banks of the Jordan and I jump up to embrace them. Contemplation on Baptism / 371 This first moment of the baptism climaxes as I join hands with my friends who have come to the Jordan. Together with Jesus and John we dance in circles and zigzag chains across the sands. Then we run into the water to splash and frolic like little children and truly we are, because so many of the hurts and wounds of growing up and of adult life are be-ing healed. This wonderful moment comes to a close when with ecstatic reverence we take turns baptizing one another in these life-giving wa-ters of human compassion and solidarity. The second major moment of the baptism begins as Jesus steps out of the water. This time the heavens open and a voice proclaims, "This is My Son, the Beloved, on whom My favor rests." Along with his sense of profound solidarity with the human family, Jesus now experiences most intensely his deep, deep solidarity with God. Because the baptism has become not only Jesus' but mine as well, I feel myself being drawn into that same solidarity with God. I now hear a voice from the heavens addressed to me, "You, too, are My son, the beloved, on whom My favor rests." Initially, I simply rest in this deep sense of belonging to God. Though still feeling very much the earthen vessel, chipped and bro-ken in so many ways, I receive nonetheless a strong assurance in the prayer that I will have whatever I need by way of resources for my per-sonal journey and for my ministry. With God's favor there will be enough of hope, courage, and justice, of human and psychic energy, and of whatever else needed for today with more to come tomorrow. The Lord has spoken . Rather than end a prayer that is really only be-ginning to unfold, I simply thank the Lord from the depths of my spirit for sh.aring the baptism with me both in contemplation and in life. This Ignatian contemplation of the baptism of our Lord invites sev-eral brief comments. First of all, we realize that the foundations for a renewed understanding of Christian baptism do not come so much from our own sacramental initiation as from sharing the experience of baptism with Jesus. Like the Lord, we are baptized into covenantal solidarity with both our brothers and sisters and with our gracious God. From this perspective, baptism loses much of its static notion as sim-ply a once-in-a-lifetime event. Especially for adults being baptized or re-claiming their baptismal call, as we did in this contemplation, the cele-bration of baptism becomes a dynamic initiation into a lifelong process that continues to open up new levels of human and divine solidarity as our Christian existence unfolds day by day. This sacred bondedness with the human family confronts the blatant Review for Religious, May-June 1989 barriers and subtle alienation that separate us from each other. Baptism invites us to embrace the human family--both near and far--as "my peo-ple" and not just God's people. Our experience is meant to mirror that of Jesus: "I am no different from anybody else." The heart of the mat-ter remains this recognition that we are all struggling with varying de-grees of success for our human freedom and wholeness--two of the gate-ways to encountering the divine in ourselves. Here, too, our experience follows the pattern of Jesus in discovering his own divinity. In facing the forces that would shrink, wound, or destroy these most precious gifts of God to us, we plumb the depths of our human resources and discover the wellsprings of the divine energy in us as well. Second, this baptism into human solidarity against the enemies of our humanity celebrates our entrance as adults into the Christian com-munity. We now recognize and claim for our own this community both broken and healed yet always struggling for greater wholeness. Third, this very sacred experience of human solidarity becomes the foundational stance for each Christian's involvement in ministry as part of our baptismal commitment. It is only from a vital sense of bonded-ness to each other that we can enter into the.joys and struggles of one another without pretense or feigned empathy. By the Lord's design we are in this human struggle together. Baptism then celebrates our call to be companions to one another and to all our brothers and sisters in the unfolding of the kingdom of God in our time. Fourth, the divine bondedness solidifies as we hear the voice from heaven address us withthe same love and promise offered to Jesus: "You are My beloved on whom My favor rests." This proclamation then nurtures our heartfelt sense of belonging utterly to God. Moreover, this divine connectedness touches all the dimensions of who we are, so that we begin to look and feel more and more with the eyes and heart of our gracious God on our~e, lves, others, and our world. In the face of our human wounds and inadequacies, this sense of di-vine favor sustains Christian perseverance and empowerment for life and ministry. We can be stretched to the limits of our understanding and of our physical and psychic energies, yet we now know deep down that no matter what comes God's favor will sustain us this day and there will be more of what we need tomorrow. From the Lord we need only ask with Ignatius in the Suscipe of the Spiritual Exercises: "Give me only Your love and Your grace; that is enough for me" (no. 234). For those hungry to deepen their commitment to Christian commu-nity and ministry, an Ignatian contemplation of the baptism may be the Contemplation on Baptism I 373 occasion to nourish those desires as they share this moment with Jesus as though it were happening for the first time. We never know whom or what we might meet on the banks of the Jordan! the woman with the hemorrhage i was tired of their pity and their prayers now for how many years each face became compulsive to be good with kindness--their helpful helplessness i've seen their looks that worried into silence "i'm so sorry" drove me to distraction until they learned my shame would last God only knowswperhaps forever then they disappeared like frightened children and the very thing

Issue 42.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1983. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty mem.bers of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. REV|EW FOR RELIGIOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus,.St. Louis, MO. © 1983 by REVIEW FOR REI.IGIOrdS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A.: $9.00 a year; $17.00 for two years. Other countries: add $2.00 per year (postage). For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVIEW Fort RELIGIOUS: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Daniel T. Costello, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Book Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor Sept./Oct., 1983 Volume 42 Number 5 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Bivd'.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's University; City Avenue at 54th St.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from Rt:vlt:W EOn Rt.~LIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. Letters of Gratitude-- II Robert F. Morneau The issue of September/October, 1982, carried the beginning of an experimental series of "Letters of Gratitude" addressed to various authors who have been important to Bishop Morneau's own spiritual development. Reader response has encouraged a continuance of this series. Bishop Morneau may still be addressed at Ministory to Priests Program; 1016 N. Broadway; De Pere, WI 54115. This series of letters of gratitude continues the purpose of an earlier series, i.e. to express my appreciation to certain authors who have enriched my life and to encourage the readers of these letters to read the primary sources of these authors. These Letters of Gratitude are written to Augustine of Hippo, Ra~'ssa Maritain and Dag Hammarskfi~id. Augustine (354-430) shares his innermost life with us in his famous Confessions. This masterpiece speaks to all ages and articulates movements of the inner life. that are universal No one can read this classic without being changed. Raissa Maritain (1883-1960). the wife of Jacques Maritain, has left us two precious treasures in her Raissa's Journal and We Have Been. Friends Together. The first of these works records the daily experiences of a deeply sensitive and spiritual woman; the second work narrates the story of key people who .influenced her own life as well as her husband's. The third letter of gratitude is addressed to a former secretary general of the United Nations. Dag HammarskjSld (1905-1961) was a distinguished statesman and advocate of international cooperation. In his famous Markings, HammarskjSld, candidly and with consummate skill, shared his journey. The depth of his spiritual life and the range of his concern are moving indeed "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood . "so the poet Robert Frost tells us. We cannot travel many roads personally but we can vicariously. And it is on the road that we share many hours of dialogue and rich experience. The 641 642 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 companionship of Augustine, Ra~'ssa Maritain and Dag HammarskjOM is well worth having, if only for a few minutes or a few hours'.; Augustine Hippo, North Africa Dear Augustine, I write in gratitude for the candid and direct sharing of your journey in the Lord. How many hearts have been touched through your confession of sin, confession of God's goodness, confession of deep struggle will probably never be known. But I write you to say that I am one who has been moved and challenged by your story; your conversion has led to my own. ¯ Where to begin? With the people who were instruments of the Lord, with the historical context of time and place, with the struggle toward freedom that drove you from darkness to light? Perhaps the last point presents a pattern that helps to explain the whole. You share well how you were held in the bonds of slavery on various levels. First of all, the slavery of sensuality! Passionate by nature and living in an environment that would activate the seeds of license, you were held fast by the desires of the body. In this darkness. you struggled for so many years and, even after the grace of conversion, continued to struggle violently with concupiscence. In this weakness you found your strength because, in the frustrating powerlessness of it all, you were forced to turn to the Lord for true liberty. God's mercy helped you not to become discouraged in the fight for purity and light. A second slavery, much more binding than the first because so much closer to the heart .of your person, was the hold that your intelligence had on you. If your finite mind could not reason to something, then that something had no value, indeed no existence. Your reason reigned supreme, thus your inability over many years to read Scripture. Not conforming to your rigid laws of logic, you lacked the simplicity to comprehend spiritual reality which was immaterial. These chains held you fast and, once again, only through the working of grace, teachers and certain philosophies were you able to be set free and to allow faith to give go. vernance to your rationality. Here we see that your strength became your greatest weakness, keeping you from Truth. The Lord in his own timing drew you into the embrace of love, and there you also found truth and purity. The two slaveries that held you captive, sensuality and rationality, also are the forces that sweep through our times, incarcerating our spirits and our lands. These forces have also moved through every age and thus your autobiography is for every season because it touches so deeply our experience. Letters of Gratitude / 64~1 Your modeling is so important because it reveals that order and peace can be had, that slavery excludes true happiness, that victory can be achieved with effort and grace. ¯ Just as you have touched many lives, likewise many people had a powerful hand in shaping your mind and heart. I think of your mother, Monica, loving, praying and pursuing you in great fidelity. God rewarded her and you with that powerful experience at Ostia--sheer grace. I think of Ambrose, bishop of Milan, whose fatherly tare and keen sensitivity helped you to work through your intellectual crisis. I think of the life of St. Anthony whose example of deep asceticism and total commitment caused your heart to burn for action. I think of Adeodatus, your brilliant son, whose death caused your heart such deep. grief. I think of your concubine and her deep love and fidelity toward you, severed from you by the dictates of culture--whatever did happen to her? I think of Alypius, your dear friend, with whom you shared so deeply and who later became bishop of Tagaste, your home town. I think of St. Paul whose writings helped to finalize your conversion. This awesome compahy made their mark; your receptive spirit eagerly took in their gracious gifts. Several incidents in your life are symbolic of deep patterns. The stealing of pears, relatively insignificant in and of itself, reveals the mysterious realm of motivation--to steal not because of the fruits but because of peer pressure. In narrating this event, you manifest a profound grasp of human psychology, a deep grasp of self-knowledge. You teach us here to go beyond our actions and thoughts .and to discern the deeper recesses of our,behavior: moving from the "what" to the "why," which in turn reveals our true values. Then you share that powerful mystical experience, communal in nature, that you and Monica had shortly before her death. Together in conversation you entered deeply into discussing and experiencing the dwelling place of God, already tasting in this life what was to be forever. How you must have treasured that moment throughout the rest of-y.our life, a touchstone experience against which to judge your many future dec~slons. Then you speak of reading Cicero's Hortensius, a work that inflamed your soul in its search for wisdom. Herein we see the importance of a single book in our lives, able to set us in a direction never before pondered. You tell further of Alypius' compulsion in regard to gladiatorial shows; how this otherwise kind and learned man was held captive by a game. In this you were taught a lasting lesson, one that touched the core of your person: freedom is a precious gift that must be carefully tended or it is lost. Given all these circumstances and people, the most compelling reality in your life was the ever present hunger you had for God--more accurately, God's hunger for you. Your sensual and intellectual passions and avarice could not be satiated; always you came away empty and unfulfilled. It was your spirit that ached for meaning and presence, the meaning and presence of a Person. Only God could fill you but the sensuality and rationality had to accept that radical poverty of spirit that makes room for God. The charting of your 644/ Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 journey, with the carefully described anguish and pain that necessarily accompany growth, is a helpful log for all of us, your fellow pilgrims. Your legacy has been prodigious." ~)61~mbs of comprehensive theology, vas~ and subtle philosophical reflection, powerful exegesis on the word of God, stirring exhortations, a model for community living, moral discourses of a challenging nature. But for me your greatest legacy is your humanness. Within the genius of cognitive excellence, we find a human heart that is torn and twisted by the winds of human experience. Your confessions are free from pretense, from the too common masking that infects most of our lives. For this the centuries are in your debt. You tell us that it is possible to reach the heights of holiness within the maze of failure and trial, within the morass of sin and slavery. You brought all of your life, n° part being excluded, to the Lord, and he healed and blessed you. It was your heart and not your head that became the portal for divine encounter. Your desire and passion for love was, at bottom, the key to your life. The only regret that I sensed came from your late loving. As long as history lasts, these words will touch the human heart: Too late have I loved you, O Beauty so ancient and so new, too late have I loved you! Behold, you were within me, while I was outside: it was there that 1 sought you, and, a deformed creature, rushed headlong upon these things of beauty which you have made. You were with me, but I was not with you. They kept me far from you, those fair things which, if they were not in you, would not exist at all. You have called to me, and have cried out, and have shattered my deafness. You have blazed forth with light, and have shone upon me, and you have put my blindness to fligh!! You have sent forth fragrance, and 1 have drawn in my breath, and I pant after you. I have tasted you, and I hunger and thirst after you. You have touched me, and I have burned for your peace. (254-255) Your fond admirer, RFM Death language My heart was made dark by sorrow, and whatever 1 looked upon was dea-th.~ My native place was a torment to me, and my father's house was a strange unhappiness. Whatsoever I had done together with him was, apart from him, turned into a cruel torture. My eyes sought for him on every side, and he was not given to them. 1 hated all things, because they no longer held him. Nor could they now say to me, "here he comes," as they did in his absence from when he lived. To myself I became a riddle, and 1 questioned my soul as to why it was sad and why it afflicted me so grievously, and it could answer me nothing. If I said to it, "Hope in God," it did right not to obey me, for the man, that most dear one whom she had lost, was more real and more good to her than the fantasy in which she was bade to hope. Only weeping was sweet to me, and it succeeded to my friend in my soul's delights. (98) 1 had learned from you that nothing should be held true merely because it is eloquently expressed, nor false because its signs sound From The Confessions of St. Augustine, translated and annotated by J. G. Pilkington, M.S., by permission of Liveright Publishing Corporation. All rights reserved, 1943. Letters of Gratitude / 845 Prelense Fear Anger Disposition Integration Friendship harsh upon the lips. Again, 1 learned that a thing is not true because rudely uttered, nor is it false because its utterance is splendid. I learned that wisdom is like wholesome food and folly like unwholesome food: they can be set forth in language ornate or plain, just as both kinds of food can be served on rich dishes or on peasant ware. (119:120) That man of God (Ambrose) received me in fatherly fashion, and as an exemplary bishop he welcomed my pilgrimage. I began to love him, at first not as a teacher of truth, which 1 utterly despaired of fir~ding in your Church, but as a man who was kindly disposed towards me. (130) But as often happens, just as a man who has had trouble with a poor physician fears to entrust himself even to a good one, so it was with my soul's health. (138) What another man would take as an occasion for anger at me, this sincere young man took as a reason for becoming angry at himself and for loving me more ardently. Long ago you had said and had inserted it into your books, "Rebuke a wise man, and he will love you." (143) From experience, 1 knew it is no strange thing that the bread that pleases a healthy appetite is offensive to one that is not healthy, and that light is hateful to sick eyes, but welcome to the well. (174) It is one thing to behold from a wooded m~untain peak the l~nd of peace, but to find no way to it, and to strive in vain towards it by unpassable ways, ambushed and beset by fugitives and deserters, under their leader, the lion and the dragon. It is a different thing to keep to the way that leads to that land, guarded by the protection of the heavenly commander, where not deserters from the heavenly army lie in wait like bandits. They shun that way, like a torture. In a wondrous way all these things penetrated my very vitals, when I read the words of that least of your apostles, and meditated upon your works, and trembled at them. (180) Let a brother's mind do this, not a stranger's mind . Let it be that brotherly mind which, when it approves me, rejoices over me, and when it disapproves of me, is saddened over me, for the reason that, whether it approves or disapproves, it loves me. To such men will I reveal myself. (23 I) II Ra~'ssa Maritain France Dear Ra~sa, I write in gratitude for the insights and sensitive reflections that are contained in your journal and autobiographical writings. I have read them with excited interest and deep admiration. My only hesitancy in picking up 646 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 your journal was my concern as to whether or not you really wanted it read; your husband Jacques and your friends decided after much thought to publish it. Though questioning the principle behind their decision, I in no way question the advantages that flow from such intimate conversation. A most powerful pattern expressed in your journal revolved around the .experience of suffering. I refer both to its intensity and pervasiveness. Not having had such experiences, 1 doubt that I comprehend its full import or the depth of such pain. What seemed to be central to such a way of life is your ability to accept, in grace, that suffering as part of God's plan and, in some way, to be able to identify with the Lord in the tasting of the pain. Otherwise the result could well have been deep resentment and hostile anger. You have taken a universal human experience and dealt with it in a healthy way. Such modeling is important in an age that tends to flee from all suffering at any cost. I have tasted and now savor your response to this path of pain; your courage throughout the ordeal is inspiring. I reflect, too, on your sister who lived with you and your husband. Unheralded, without great talent, fulfilling the role of servant, she represents an entire core of people in higtory who, through their quiet dedication and humble service, have made it possible for others to be creative and productive. Your sister was fortunate in being appreciated for who she was and what she did, an uncommon fate for many like her. These unsung heroes and heroines whisper of the many flowers that are "born to blush unseen." How did you come to integrate your personal relationships so well? Did it involve a painful struggle? In reading your journal it becomes obvious that God had priority in your life; he was indeed the ground of your being; all of life's meaning came from your deep faith. Yet, from other reflections you have shared, your husband Jacques and other individuals were extremely close to you as you were all friends together. Theoretically this is no problem: love for God and our fellow creatures is certainly not exclusive. Yet on the practical level, given the reality of making choices that necessarily exclude other options, such balance in our lives is not easy to come by. Perhaps you could send me further reflection on this. Two incidents from your life impressed me deeply. One was the time you and Jacques were studying at the university in Paris and in your searching were unable to find sufficient meaning for life. So intense was the search that you both opted for suicide, if you could not find meaning. Such was the seriousness of your endeavor and such was the grace given by God that you discovered Thomistic thought. Cpming out of this rich theologic and philoso-phic loam you were to find a perspective sufficiently sustaining that suicide no longer remained an option. Our own age stands in need of meaning-systems to provide us with a reason to live, a reason to die. The great metaphysical and cosmological questions continue to haunt the human mind and heart, prodding us until some type of resolution is found. Too often suicide becomes a "viable" option. Recently I heard of several people who had picked up some Letters of Gratitude of Jacques' works. He has become an instrument for passing on a wealthy tradition enabling the human spirit to deal with movements towards insight and hope. Your personal contributions to the poetic world have served the same purpose. The second incident that sounded a chord in me was the remark that Bergson made to you: "Always follow your inspiration." What a challenging statement, one not free from danger as he realized when sometime later he commented that he could not say that to just anyone. Your interpretation of the advice was to always act freely so that your true self could emerge. What wisdom when we are in touch with our deepest selves; what danger when, on some superficial levels, our personality seeks expression regardless of the effect on ourselves or others. At bottom, in a faith context, our inspiration is not really ours but the Lord's. Without knowing it, Bergson became an instrument of God calling you to foster and nourish a discerning heart, a core element in the development of the spiritual life. Inspiration is a fact, a part of everyone's experience; how it is interpreted and whether or not it is responded to depends upon the disposition of each person. You responded well to the movements of God's Spirit. Simplicity, as a virtue and way of life, was a constant call for you. What simplicity as well as its sister, purity, mean, boggles my mind. Certainly they are inseparable but they contain such mystery and are so grace-laden that it is hard to describe their essences. To will one thing, to be transparent, to possess unmixed motivation and a sense of detachment--all of these are hints and clues. Only experience allows their meaning to enter the heart. By contrast, complexity disrupts our !onging for the simple as compromise discolors the pure stream of love. Testing the reverse side of the coin draws us painfully into the poverty of our lives. Your writings are expressions of deep honesty. You state what you feel and think, not what others might expect you tO say. In going before God, you bring your real self, warts and all. In dryness of spirit you bring your emptiness and nothingness before the Lord. In the joy of friendship, you recognize its source with gratitude. All these reflections center on one thing: truth. Again the confidence that truth can be comprehended; certitude is possible. With the truth comes freedom from moral, psychological, and spiritual paralysis. Time and again the hunger and thirst for truth, which at bottom is that infinite desire for God, emerges and demands constant bnergy. You, your husband and friends were searchers; your find has been graciously shared with us. Three loves helped to shape your life: theology, philosophy and poetry. Many individuals helped give you insight into these three loves: Thomas Aquinas, Plotinus, Augustine, Pascal, Bergson. My heart rejoices to find the formative influence of poetry in your journey: It brings the soaring and majestic flights of theological insight and philosophical reflections back to the concrete and specific. This happy triumvirate makes for a well-rounded disciple of the Lord. 641~ / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 You were a part of an exciting movement within the Church. The goal was a quality spiritual life based on strong principle and dedicated service. One senses the importance of community and friends in such an adventure. Herein is a lesson for our times: spiritual growth happens through deep participation with and among a community of believers. The search is painful but the joys are deep. Your contribution has not been forgotten; more, it continues to touch many hearts. Deep peace always, RFM Ego Virtue God Envy God Peace Truth Experience The ego is an obstacle to vision and possession. (28) Yesterday 1 had a good morning. Once again when I recollect myself, 1 again find the same simple demands of God: gentleness, humility, charity, interior simplicity; nothing else is asked of me. And suddenly I saw clearly why these virtues are demanded, because through them the soul becomes habitable for God and for one's neighbor in an intimate and permanent way. They make a pleasant cell of it. Hardness and pride repel, complexity disquiets. But humility and gentleness welcome, and simplicity reassures. These "passive" virtues have an eminently social character. (71) I get nowhere by looking at myself; I merely get discouraged. So I am making the resolution to abandon myself entirely to God, to look only at him, to leave all the care of myself to him, to practice only one thing, confidence; my extreme wretchedness, my natural cowardice leaving me no other way open to go to God and to advance in good. (83) A proud man envies the superiority which surpasses him. A humble one, on the contrary, loves good wherever he finds it, and by this love, in some sense appropriates it to himself. I enter into the presence of God with all my load of misery and troubles. And he takes me just as I am and makes me to be alone with him. (225) Sources of peace: God and trees. (328) But before all else, I had to make sure of the essential thing: the possession of the truth about God, about myself, and about the world. It was, I knew, the necessary foundation for my life; 1 could not, without letting the ground be washed away from under me, give up the pursuit of its discovery. Such was my deep instinct. And by assiduous work must I prepare myself to receive the hard secrets of the spirit. All the rest, 1 thought, would follow, would come in its time--music, the sweetness of the world, the happiness of life. (3 I) 1 began to read Plotinus outside class with great joy. Of this reading one single dazzling memory stands out for me, and throws all the rest into shadow. One summer day in the country, I was reading the Enneads. I was sitting on my bed with the book on my knees; reaching Citations from Ra~'ssa "s Journal are reproduced by permission of the publishers, Magi Books, Inc. Letters of Gratitude / 649 lnspiratibn Honesty Fa~h Suffering one of those numerous passages where Plotinus speaks of the soul and of God, as much in the character of a mystic as in that of a metaphysician--a passage I did not think of marking then and which I have not looked for since--a wave of enthusiasm flooded my heart. The next moment I was on my knees before the book, covering the passage I had just read with passionate kisses, and my heart burning with love. (96-97) One day, trembling all over, I went to Bergson to ask his advice about my studies, and even more, no doubt, about my life. It was the first time 1 had ever done anything of this kind. A few words of what he said to me are forever engraved in my memory. "Always follow your inspiration." Was this not to say, "Be yourself, always act freely'?. Much later, when I reminded him of this advice, which 1 had set about following indeed, Bergson, smiling at his imprudence, said kindly: "That was not advice I could have given to many people . "(97) Bloy appeared to us as the contrary of other men, who hide grave failings in the things of the spirit and so many invisible crimes under a carefully maintained whitewash of the virtues of sociability. Instead of being a whited sepulchre, like the Pharisees of every time, he was a firestained and blackened cathedral. The whiteness was within, in the depth of the tabernacle. (I 19) 1 think now that faith--a weak faith, impossible to formulate consciously--already existed in the most hidden depths of our souls. But we did not know this. It was the Sacrament which revealed it to ¯ us, and it was sanctifying grace which strengthened it in us. (178) This question of suffering in Beatitude, and of suffering in God himself, had already been raised by Bloy in Le Salutpar les Juifs. This conjunction of suffering and Beatitude is allowed neither by theology nor by Aristotle. Beatitude means absolute fullness, and suffering is the cry of that which is wounded. But our God is a crucified God: the Beatitude of which he cannot be deprived did not prevent him from fearing or mourning,~or from sweating blood in the unimaginable Agony, or from passing through the throes of death on the Cross, or from feeling abandoned. "Every imaginable violation of what one is accustomed to call Reason can be accepted from a suffering God," says Bloy in Le Salut. (189) III Dag HammarskfiSM c/o United Nations Building, New York Dear Secretary General, I write in gratitude for the markings of your life which you so carefully ¯ noted in your now famous diary. While busy with the affairs of the/world, while leading the United Nations in its struggle for an elusive pea(e, while 650 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 interacting socially and professionally with thousands of people, you took time to trace the movements of your spirit. Did any of your knowledgeable associates suspect the depth (or even existence) of your spiritual life? Was there anyone sensitive enough to feel the pulsating rhythm of your mind and heart? Perhaps their blindness and your own reticence kept too well hidden your dialogue with God and with life. And, as often happens, only after death is life fully manifest! We have the blessing of your journal which tells the story, a story that both inspires and challenges. So many themes! So many movements! The struggle with self and against self not being the least. Enslavement to pride and vainglory that so strongly contended with the haunting desire for self-surrender. Given your giftedness and international recognition, the self found humility no easy virtue. Yet you were able to name the struggle, you were able to admit your intrinsic weaknesses toward egoism and this already provided impetus to new freedoms. What a powerful instrument your journal must have been in this whole process. By it you kept in touch with the truth and that very truth was the gateway to authentic liberation. And even more deeply, within that whole struggle with self, was your relationship with God and your deep faith. Slavery to self was not broken through mere human discipline and strength. At the core of your religious life was the desire for purity and its most noted effect, transparency. No admixture of foreign elements into one's nature, thought or behavior. God was pure; he was love which is the essence of purity and permits transparency. You sought this God in faith, knowing that constant contact with him would bring about a personal renewal. Nor was all this a rugged individualism: all action is social, all holiness involves the well-being of other:s, all are part of a large symbiotic existence. As a youngster, I recall hearing in the dead of night the haunting whistle of the freight train cutting through the darkness with its small beacon of light. So, too, in reading your markings, I sensed the loneliness that is part of the lot of those chosen to lead. Genius and responsibility remove the engine from the rest of the cars and cause a perception among the masses that fails to take into account the real inner self. That loneliness finds expression in your reflections and these reflections come from the silence of the night. Whatever the pain, silence and loneliness are elements in the atomic formula that spell a rich imeriority. Without these qualities superficiality and mediocrity predominate. Every so often we come across vast visions contained in a nutshell; multiple truths captured by an adage; diverse beauty gently painted in a masterpiece. Your prayer is a rich theological gold mine: Give us A pure heart That we may see Thee, A humble heart That we may hear Thee, A heart of love That we may serve Thee, Letters of Gratitude / 651 A heart of faith That we may live Thee. (214) The emphasis is not on the mind or action but on the heart. Herein lies the wellspring of human life: what happens in the heart determines our fate. Thus we truly see when our hearts are pure; we hear for the first time when our hearts are humble; we serve well under the condition that our heart has made room for love; we live in God's piesence if in our heart there dwells the gift of faith. How simple! How profound! How challenging! And all of this is gift: "give us"! Not a selfish prayer made only for one's own growth, but a collective prayer asking for all peoples these gifts of single-mindedness, rich obedience, deep affectivity and spiritual vision. Only so blessed can peace come to the world; all politics must be grounded in spirituality, if any meaning at all is to be had. Resistance is for many of us a way of life. We resist our limitations, we feel hostile to the unknown, we are non-accepting of those things that do not fit into our plans. So much time and energy are consumed through the negative force of resistance that there is little, if any, left over to live a positive life. We shout a continual no to life and wonder why we are not happy. You related how one day you stopped this pattern in your life and shouted (or whispered) your yes. (205) In that moment of surrender all was different, all was new. However ambiguous and undefined this religious experience was--you were not clear as to who even put the question--that leap into affirmative acceptance was the point of conversion. A new person was born that day and with it came the precious gifts of meaning and freedom. What would, be your response to the condition of world government as it exists today? Was all your work worthwhile? Despite the powerlessness of the United Nations, despite the wars that go on daily and the fragile peace in the non-military sections of the planet, despite the narrow supercilious nationalisms causing incredible blindness, your work was not in vain. Your expertise, dedication and world consciousness have made their mark and furthered the cause of peace that is absolutely crucial for the family of man. The ideal has been kept alive and your contributions to the common good are inestimable. Hopefully, others will follow who will carry on this ministry to world peace and justice. The ultimate meaning in life which emerged time and again from your journal is love. Beyond obedience, beyond fear, beyond openness to life is this great force and power of radical care. Without it, division and alienation rage; with it, there comes the joy and peace of those who touch and have been touched by God. The beauty of life is that love found expression in action which you see as "the road to holiness" for our times. You walked it well; may we be but a step behind. With gratitude, RFM 652 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 Friendship Lislening Love HMmor Love Growth Within-hess Purity Holiness Obedience Instrumentality Fa#h Hum~ Every deed and every relationship is surrounded by an atmosphere of silence. Friendship needs no words--it is solitude delivered from the anguish of loneliness. (8) The more faithfully you listen to the voice within you, the better you will hear what is sounding outside. And only he who listens can speak. Is this the starting point of the road towards the union of your two dreams--to be allowed in clarity of mind to mirror life and in purity of heart to mold it? (13) Perhaps a great love is never returned. Had it been given warmth and shelter by its counterpart in the Other, perhaps it would have been hindered from ever growing to maturity. It "gives" us nothing. But in its world of loneliness it leads us up to summits with wide vistas--of insight. (42) A grace to pray for--that our self-interest, which is inescapable, shall never cripple our sense of humor, that fully conscious self-scrutiny. which alone can save us. (43) Our love becomes impoverished if we lack the courage to sacrifice its object. (56) If only 1 may grow: firmer, simpler--quieter, warmer. (93) To be able to see, hear, and attend to that within us which is there in the darkness and the silence. (97) To be pure in heart means, among other things, to have freed yourself from all such half-measures: from a tone of voice which places you in the limelight, a furtive acceptance of some desire of the flesh which ignores the desire of the spirit, a self-righteous reaction to others in their moments of weakness. (109) In our era, the road to holiness necessarily passes through the world of action. (122) Beyond obedience, its attention fixed on the goal--freedom from fear. Beyond fear--openness to live and beyond that--love. (129) Rejoice if you feel that what you did was "necessary," but remember, even so, that you were simply the instrument by means of which He added one tiny grain to the Universe He has created for His own purposes. (143) We act in faith--and miracles occur. In consequence, we are tempted to make the miracles the ground for our faith. The cost of such weakness is that we lose the confidence of faith. Faith is, faith creates, faith carries. It is not derived from, nor created, nor carried by anything except its own reality. (145) Humility is just as much the opposite of self-abasement as it is of self-exaltation. To be humble is not to make comparisons. Secure in its reality, the self is neither better nor worse, bigger nor smaller, than anything else in the universe. It is--is nothing, yet at the same time one with everything. It is in this sense that humility is absolute self-effacement. (174) From Markings, by Dag HammarskjiSld, translated by Leif Sjoberg and W. H. Auden, by pernaission of Alfred A. Knopf, Inc. All rights reserved, 1964. Crisis in Personal Prayer: Reflections of Pope Paul VI J. Michael Miller, C.S.B. Father Miller is an Associate Professor in the Department of Theology of the University of St. Thomas, where he may be addressed: 3812 Montrose Blvd.; Houston, TX 77006. Shortly after his election to the papacy twenty years ago, Pope Paul VI confided to his friend Jean Guitton, "Montini has disappeared, Peter has replaced him."~ Of his interior life, consequently, we know very little: no Journal of a Soul, no published diaries, few unedited notes. The silence that had always surrounded his own life of prayer became absolute after he was elected pope. Nothing undoubtedly would have embarrassed this shy, inward man more than the revelation after his death that he often wore a hair shirt under his white cassock3 The fascinating spiritual biography of the pope who led the Church in its most tumultuous days since the Reformation remains to be written. Can nothing then be said about his prayer life? its difficulties? its structure? its emergence from a soul steeped in the anguish of the twentieth century's alienation and loneliness? Not a buoyant optimist as was John XXIII, Paul VI disappointed those who desired a charismatic, powerful personality to lead the Church in the wake of his popular predecessor. Especially in the last years of his pontificate, his tired and stilted movements (caused by painful arthritis) inspired little optimism. He was accused of being indecisive, lackluster, too progressive and too reactionary. Sharply aware of the "formidable burden" of his office and of his "apparent incommunicability," Pope Paul was thus no stranger to humani-ty's doubts and anxieties. Despite his reticence and his quasi-mystical assump tion of the ministry of Peter, Paul VI has nonetheless left us some reflections on the contemporary crisis in the practice of personal prayer--instructions which he shared with the people of God over the course of fifteen years of catechesis, exhortation, and homily. We can glean from these talks, which he 653 654 / Review for Religious, Sept,-Oct., 1983 wrote himself, some understanding of his own prayer life of which they are an echo. His remarks on prayer spring from a soul enmeshed in this "sad, dra-matic, and magnificent earth," as he described human existence in his last will and testament. The pope was a sensitive and compassionate man whose life of prayer was filled with a serenity and hope which belie those who thought him to be crushed by his own sense of responsibility and the suffering of both the Church and the world. While Pope Paul elaborated no systematic doctrine on prayer or the spiri-tual life, he consistently exhorted the faithful to pray and dedicated numerous discourses to the specific theme of personal prayer. On occasion he set aside for the topic two, three, or even four discourses in succession--as in August 1969, Eastertide 1970, or after Pentecost in 1976. The Holy Year of 1975--its preparation, realization, and aftermath--also stimulated his reflections on prayer. Nonetheless, Paul VI never presented a long and sustained theology on this theme such as that which John Paul II delivered in 1980 on marriage and sexuality in the opening chapters of Genesis. For this article, then, I have organized thematically material drawn from disparate talks over Paul's fifteen-year pontificate (1963-1978). At every point my primary interest is to allow the penetrating insights, concise and chiseled language, and ever-present serenity of Paul VI to speak for themselves: they reveal the contemporary person before personal prayer, the difficulties it entails, and its fundamental conversational structure. Is There a Crisis in Personal Prayer? Not infrequently Pope Paul lamented the declining practice of prayer in the modern world. He noted "with regret that personal prayer is diminishing'~ and that "unfortunately today many people no longer pray, do not pray at all. ,,4 In several discourses on prayer he mentions this decline and uses it as his point of departure: "A simple enquiry on the religious habits of the people of our time would yield sad findings on the complete, or almost complete, absence of personal prayer in a very large number of persons, now alien to, and alienated from, all expressions of inner religious feeling.'~ The crisis reaches "even those who are consecrated to the Lord [who] pray less than was once usual.TM Yet, despite, this grim evaluation of the contemporary situation, Paul VI did not take refuge in complaint. Instead he observed attentively in order to discover the reasons for the decline and, finding the reasons, to encourage hopeful signs wherever they appeared. More the pastor than the judge, he wanted to draw Christians, especially the young, to return to per-sonal prayer. Because Paul VI did not divorce his ministry from service to the world, he sought to reawaken humanity's thirst for the interior life by leading it to dis-cover in its own sterile experience of the world the foundation for prayer. He therefore tried to explain why modern men and women find it so difficult, so joyless to pray. Again and again he returns to his own straightforward ques- Crisis in Personal Prayer / 655 tion: "Why js interior life, that is the life of prayer, less intense and less easy for people of our time, for ourselves?''~ His assessment spurred him to try to ac-count for this unfortunate situation and thereby turn it to pastoral advantage. Reasons for the Crisis While Pope Paul never neatly outlined all the reasons for the contempo-rary crisis in prayer, his many discourses, however, reveal at least five explana-tions which touch the heart of the matter: Exteriorization. According to Paul VI, "we are brought up and educated to live exterior lives.TM A concentration on the marvelous and exciting things of this world has so displaced "equal training in the interior life" that few know its laws and satisfactions. The decline in practice is less a matter of man's deliber-ate unwillingness to pray than of his preference for more gratifying diversions. The ~'fascinating" media of film and television, for example, militate against the cultivation of a prayer life. If these media are watched "assiduously or obsessively," he says, they can "take the place of speculative thought, fill the mind with empty fantasies (see Ws 4:12), and urge it on to what it has seen." The human mind is reduced to the sensory world alone and "exteriorized." Given this situation, Paul goes on to ask, "Where is there any room for spiritual life, prayer, dependence on that prime principle which is God, when the consciousness is habitually crowded with these intruding and often futile and harmful images?"~ This first point is simple: a mind and heart filled with vain images leaves neither room nor interest for prayer. Materialism. A "deluded consideration that reality, the whole of reality, is that of the sense order, that of temporal and material experience" increases humanity's obliviousness to its spiritual depths. Crushed by work, study, and absorption in worldly affairs, we are in danger of closing ourselves to the transcendent, to the call to prayer. When knowledge is reduced to physical and quantitative laws, and God is "excluded as the transcendent Principle of the universe, and therefore also of every free and wise intervention in the world of our experience," Pope Paul then asks, "how could man address a word to the unknown God, try to dialogue with him, invoke his loving Providenc.6?" Whenever nothingness is proclaimed at the summit of the universe, he con-tinues, then people are "made incapable of prayer." Instead they are forced to strengthen the "mystification of self-sufficiency."0 Materialism and secularism lead to "putting prayer out of public life and private habit.TM Scientism. The frequently vaunted capacity of science to explain everything without reference to a transcendent cause calls into question the value of imploring a provident and personal God. Paul VI often follows the Thomistic .nodel of first outlining and then answering objections squarely. He comments, ~or example, that we have "to keep in mind the classic and usual objection nowadays, about the uselessness of prayer for us modern men, who by means of scientific progress have a knowledge of. the cosmos and human life ~hich makes it useless to have recourse to God to intervene in the scheme of causal- 656 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 ity, over which we ourselves either have control or know its fatality." After thus fairly presenting the objection, he answers that science "does not deem the influence of divine action superfluous in the play of natural causes, but recog-nizes it and to a certain extent., postulates it, invokes it, prays to it with increased understanding of divine and human things."~2 Paul VI refused to concede that science and technology could provide a satisfactory excuse for not praying. Rather, he insisted that scientists should not curtail the metaphys-ical and: mystical possibilities raised by the depth and precision of their disci-plines. If honestly undertaken their study should lead them not to silence but to dialogue with their Creator. Lack of a Religious Sense. Coupled with the exteriorization of the human mind, secularism, and scientism is a decline in humanity's "basic religious sense." Without this sense a personal spiritual life is impossible. Even before a person consciously prays, the person must have "that perhaps vague, but deep, mysterious and stimulating sense of God which is the basis of prayer."Is Because this religious sense is the atmosphere from which our thin voices can be raised in prayer, Pope Paul admonishes everyone to "try to find the routes leading to the religious sense, to the mystery of God, and then to colloquy and union with God.TM A world which excludes the mystery and beauty of God sweeps away the foundation of the interior life. Social Activism. Another Pauline explanation for the declining practice of prayer is the false emphasis some Catholics place on social conct~rns. The pope of Populorum progressio (1967) and Octogesima adveniens ( 1971) warned that social activism threatens to displace the interior life of prayer. Those who maintain that charity towards one's neighbor is enough are tempted to regard prayer as an obstacle to action, "as if they were competing for time, now scarce." Quite simply, according to Paul, prayer is "an indispensable coefficient of apostolic action."15 Without prayer, loving communion with Jesus Christ, the Church is unable "to contest a society in which everything is staked on apparent efficiency."~6 Without prayer, the Church would be "some kind of philanthropic humanism, or some sort of purely temporal sociological organi-zation,"~ 7 but it would not be the Body of Christ which worships the Father through the Son in the Holy Spirit. Signs of Hope Despite the "formidable, but false" reasons why many people neither want to pray nor know how to pray nor do pray, the Church remains a "prayer association." It is in and through the Church, according to the pope, that humanity "has found the authentic way of praying, through Christ the sole high priest, that is, the way of speaking to God, of talking with God, of speaking about God."~8 Anchored deeply in the life of the Church and aware of her spiritual fiches, Paul VI was nevertheless able to discern within contem-porary secular experience an opening to prayer that many others brushed aside as irrelevant or unredeemable. Not satisfied with a mere description of the Crisis in Personal Prayer crisis, he always tried to dig deeper, to unravel, to make explicit the implicit, to reveal the hidden. The key to his theological and pastoral method was his indefatigable desire to "rescue" the potential of every twentieth-century philo-sophical and cultural movement--to unearth its latent possibilities. What many perceived as weakness or indecisiveness was really the pope's ability to grasp the multi-sided complexity of the modern world and his seeking to read the "signs of the times." In his discourses on prayer he applied his own method: to bring into focus the ways in which contemporary experience, especially that of the young, has within itself the capacity to promote a loving dialogue with God rather than a monologue with nothingness. Paradoxically, then, the modern spirit contains the seeds of its possible redemption. During the Holy Year, Pope Paul commented on the plausibility of a reaction setting in among young people which would turn them once again to the practice of personal prayer. Spontaneously alienated by the empti-ness of denying God, "these young people come forward, sad and tormented by the need of a real religion, which will make it possible still to talk to God, to pray to him, to know that he is accessible and close, provident and loving."19 Rather than despair at their denial of God and of the possibility and power of prayer, Paul VI chose to encourage them to reach deeper into their own experience and acknowledge their inner thirst for God. At a Wednesday audience two years before his death he said: Is there not, perhaps, at the bottom of the contesting bitterness of so many young people today a state of mind that is lamentation, poetry, invocation, which it seems permissible to classify under the sign of prayer, a sign that has survived the hurricanes of modern disillusionment? Yes, the temple of prayer opens its doors to the men of our time, and they, most certainly, feel that it would be wonderful to go in again. But they are hesitant: how dare they? And how to pray?--they think. It is worthwhile accompanying them and inviting them again to pray with us30 Ever anxious to accompany and encourage, Pope Paul perceived that "a need, an orientation, a sympathy for some form of prayer is being born again in the heart of the present generation.'~ From the experience of alienation can emerge a rekindled interest and thirst for the Living God. Such sentiments are certainly those of a man confident that truth will eventually prevail. In a moving description of the desperation of the young and their world, Paul VI strives to discern in their pleas an unacknowledged but real prayer raised to God. He recognizes in those who "hear no other call but that of a wasteland, on which they have fallen in an attitude of listless sadness to testify to the unhappy emptiness of their existence . a kind of existential moan of their innate desire to live, to survive." He does not hesitate to call this "a prayer; yes, a prayer conscious only of the desperate devaluation of every magnified modern experience, a kind of De profundis, to the atrocious inner torment." Like the Athenians who did not recognize the objective orientation of their longing (see Ac 17:23), so today the young do not often recognize in 65~1 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 their alienation their "innate, anguished need of Life, transcendent, rising again, divine." From out of the depths of this human anguish, according tO the pope, the possibility arises of encountering "a mysterious wayfarer, exhausted under a cross, who repeats his paradoxical but fascinating invitation: 'Come to me! And I will give you rest'" (Mt 11:28).22 In the very cry of those seemingly without God is revealed the first fashioning of prayer. Always intent on reaching to the crux of the matter and belie.ving that the human person "remains radically religious, essentially oriented towards the quest for God, towards a relationship with him, and therefore eager for, and capable of, personal prayer," Paul VI regards the spontaneous cries of the heart as the beginning of authentic prayer, the ''prayer-spark" which "bursts forth from the soul" in an "almost explosive" manner. Even for those untrained in religious conversation such a cry is a minimal, sometimes unno-ticed, expression of the soul's conversation with God.23 In this way, Paul seems to suggest the presence of a kind of"anonymous prayer" in the soul of many of his contemporaries. According to him, the drama of twentieth-century thought leads either to the failure of desolate skepticism or to "a science of God, which cannot remain just inert and passive, but experiences the logic, the vital urge to express a word; a word addressed to God: a call? praise? an attempt at dialogue? In any case, a prayer.'~4 If people would but open their eyes and their mind, they would discover in their own groans the beginning of prayer. Prayer as "Intoxicating Dialogue" Though Paul VI neither provided a manual on the practice of prayer nor described its dynamics in any detail, he frequently recalled the fundamental structure of personal prayer as God's call and an individual's response. The pope often reminds his listeners that even before a word is on our tongue, God himself is within us in "that mysterious and indescribable appointment which God, the one and threefold God, deigns to make with us, for filial and over-flowing conversation within our very selves."25 God reveals himself to us from within; he is closer to us than we are to ourselves. Paul never tired of calling to mind the mystery of the divine indwelling as the condition which makes all praying possible. Everyone needs to learn to pray inside oneself and by oneself, because God is with us inviting and beckoning us to interior.persona! p.m_ y~er. Despite our laziness, our being "slow and restive interlocutors," as the pope says, it is God who precedes and loves and goes in search of us first.26 Paul Vl's emphasis on personal, private prayer stems from his keen awareness that "the essentia! crossroads at which there is a meeting with the religious mystery, with God, is within us, in the interior room of our spirit and in that personal activity we call prayer.'~7 Liturgical prayer can never replace internal awareness and dialogue with the God who encounters us from within. Both God's sending of his Son in the Incarnation and of his Spirit at Pentecost provoke a "listening" in the heart of the believer. After listening to God's invitation, the pope said, "we cannot remain silent and inert" but must Crisis in Personal Prayer / 659 seek to respond.2s Paul VI was fond of referring to prayer as "conversation" or "dialogue"---terms dear to his theological method as it emerges, for example, in his first encyclical, Ecclesiam suam (1964). The simplest raising of the heart to God is already prayer when the mysterious Other is addressed, however inarticulately, as "thou." Nor is the individual disappointed "with the new joy of an intoxicating reply: Ecce adsum; here I am."~9 Prompted by the Spirit to recognize God within, and then to address him, the person is comforted with a reply. God listens. Dialogue unfolds "through filial conversation and concen-trated silence with him."~0 Prayer, then, is simple, austere and loving conversa-tion, an "intoxicating dialogue.TM In an address directed to rekindling the religious sense among men and women of today, Paul describes the dialogue which follows upon a person's awareness of God: Prayer is conversation: a conversation carried on by our personalities with the invisible companion, of whose presence we have become aware: the holy Living One, who fills us with awe and love, the indescribable Godhead, whom Christ (see Mt 11:27) taught us to call Father through his priceless gift of revelation)2 With his customary care to answer objections anticipated in the minds of his listeners, Pope Paul insists that prayer is authentic only when coupled with trust. The fear that our words are "a voice in the darkness" or merely "despair-ing poetry" is real. But once we remember that prayer begins with God and is established by Christ, it cannot be a monologue. Our very response is necessar-ily a dialogue.33 The "essential pattern of prayer" is that of a "conversation between God and the person,"a conversation which arises from a bilateral and beneficial relationship anchored in God's graciousness and an individual's trust.~ This model of prayer is readily accessible to contemporary human experience; it needs only to be'unlocked and directed to the God who waits. Conclusion Thus spoke Paul VI on prayer. To paraphrase St. John (20:30), there are many other things which Pope Paul said about prayer, but they are not ~ecorded in this article: his unceasing encouragement of liturgical prayer as the outflow of personal prayer, his esteem for the practice of simple vocal prayer, his promotion of Marian prayer. All these themes, and many more, together make up the rich legacy ori prayer which the pope bequeathed to the Church. Though not always highly original in his instruction, he taught assiduously the value and need for prayer if contemporary humanity is to survive. Paul VI restated traditional doctrine with a vigor and finesse attuned to our contem-porary self-understanding. More than all else, however, his calm and confi-dence that God is working through our barrenness to invite us to prayer is an encouraging testimony that from the very poverty of our existence might emerge the riches of loving dialogue with the Triune God. 660 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 NOTES ~Jean Guitton, Paul VI secret (Paris, 1979), p. 12. 2Ibid., p. 15. 3The Teachings of Pope Paul VI, vol. 3 (Vatican City, 1971), p. 145 (22 April 1970). All subsequent references are to the collected works published in ~e Teachings of Pope Paul VL I I vols. (Vatican City, 1969-1979, also reprinted by the USCC). The date of the original papal discourse follows in parentheses. 4Teachings 8, p. 86 (30 July 1975). ~Teachings 7, p. 14 (23 January 1974). 6Teachings 2, p. 219 (13 August 1969). 7Teachings 2, p. 220 (13 August 1969). STeachings 2, p. 220 (13 August 1969). 9Teachings 2, p. 228 (27 August 1969). ~°Teachings 8, pp. 8687 (30 July 1975). ~ Teachings 2, p. 223 (21 August 1969). ~2Teachings 7, p. 147 (23 October 1974). ~3Teachings 2, p. 226 (27 August 1969). ~4Teachings 2, p. 228 (27 August 1969). ~Teachings 9, pp. 105-106 (8 September 1976). ~rTeachings 8, p. 415 (12 November 1975). ~TTeachings 3, p. 144 (22 April 1970). ~STeachings 3, p. 143 (22 April 1970). ~gTeachings 8, p. 87 (30 July 1975). ~°Teachings 9, p. 67 (9 June 1976). ~ Teachings 7, p. 19 (30 January 1974). 2~Teachings 7, pp. 145-146 (23 October 1974). 2aTeachings 7, pp. 14-15 (23 January 1974). ~4Teachings 9, p. 66 (9 June 1976). ~STeachings 3, p. 145 (22 April 1970). 26 Teachings 7, p. 15 (23 January 1974). :T Teachings 2, p. 221 (13 August 1969). 28Teachings 7, p. 17 (30 January 1974). ~gTeachings 2, p. 221 (13 August 1969). ~°Teachings 2, p. 225 (21 August 1969). ~ Teachings 8, p. 63 (2 June 1976). J~Teachings 2, p. 226 (27 August 1969). J~Teachings 7, p. 19 (30 January 1974). ~Teachings 9, p. 68 (16 June 1976). The "Active-Contemplative" Problem in Religious Life by David M. Knight Price: $.75 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63106 Jungian Types and Forms of Prayer Thomas E. Clarke, S.J. Father Clarke, theologian, writer and lecturer, is well known for his work with renewal efforts in a variety of communities. He now resides in a small pastoral community where he may be addressed: 126 West 17th St.; New York, NY 10011. It is well known that Jungian spirituality--approaches to human and Christian development which draw on the insights of Carl Jung--is experi-encing a high point of interest and influence.~ More specifically, the Jungian psychological types are attracting many, especially as these types are identified by the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI), a preference measurement perfected over several decades by the late Isabel Briggs Myers.2 More particularly still, there is considerable interest in describing forms of prayer which correspond to the categories of the Jungian typology.3 In this context the present article seeks to identify and reflect on ways of praying which correspond to the functions and attitudes of the Jungian schema; it will also offer some suggestions and cautions towards the further exploration of such correspondences. It is written not only for those who are already acquainted with their MBTI types, but also for those seeking a basic explanation of this instrument in its usefulness for prayer. These observations are based on a dozen retreat/workshop experiences of six days which have sought to aid Christian growth by correlating Jungian type-categories with Gospel themes and Christian practices. They are also meant to supplement what has been said in a recent book transposing the retreat/workshop into print.4 The scope of this article is quite limited. First, it does not profess to know how people or groups belonging to any one of the sixteen types actually prefer to pray or, still less, ought to pray. Secondly, it does not seek to correlate each of the sixteen types with one or more forms of prayer. The basis of the correlations here suggested will be the four functions, with some consideration of the attitudes of introversion and extraversion. 661 66~ / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 The article does, however, go beyond the previously mentioned literature in three ways. First, it will speak not only of the prayer of individuals but also, though less in detail, of prayer in groups and in liturgical assemblies. Secondly, it will raise the question of prayer as a form of leisure, hence as a time for making friends with the shadow side of one's personality. And thirdly, it will raise the question of forms of prayer for individuals at different stages of life's journey. A Preliminary Observation One final preliminary re~ark needs to be made, on the method of correlation followed in our retreat/workshop, in the chapters of From Image to Likeness, and in the present article. Jungian theory and the Christian Gospel are two quite distinct and heterogeneous interpretations of what it means to be human. The properly behavioral and the properly religious dimensions of life are irreducible one to the other. Even where common terms, drawn from either sector, are used, we must be wary of assuming a univocal sense. Carl Jung presented himself principally as pursuing the science of the soul. Jesus Christ is God's Word of salvation, the founder of the faith community which bears his name. Nevertheless there are between the insights of Jung and the teachings of Jesus significant affinities, likenesses, analogies. As in the case of Plato and Aristotle, Darwin and Marx, penetrating Jungian insights into the human condition can meet, and be met by, facets of the Gospel. The method employed here, then, is one which centers on such resemblances. My impression is that much of the energy generated within Jungian spirituality today derives from the exciting discovery that these two basic perceptions of our humanity often converge in remarkable ways. The convergence on which we will focus here is that which obtains between the characteristics of each of the Jungian functions and different forms of Christian prayer. The Jungian Types My guess is that most readers of this article have already been introduced to the Jungian types either directly or through some such instrument as the MBTI. But a brief summary may be helpful, at least to those not acquainted with the types. Carl Jung's clinical experience acquainted him with the fact that while we all engage in common forms of behavior we also differ notably from one another in our behavioral preferences, and hence in the way in which we grow humanly. He used two generic terms, perceiving and judging, to designate the alternating rhythm, present in each person, of a) taking in reality, being shaped by it, and b) shaping reality, responding to it. Each of these two postures was specified, Jung postulated, in two contrasting functions. Perceiving (P) was specified as either sensing (S), the Jungian Types and Forms of Prayer / 663 function through which, with the help of the five senses, we perceive reality in its particularity, concreteness, presentness; or as intuiting (N), the function through which, in dependence on the unconscious and with the help of imagination, we perceive reality in its wholeness, its essence, its future potential. Judging (J) was also specified, in either thinking (T), by which we come to conclusions and make decisions on the basis of truth, logic, and right order; or in feeling (F), which prompts conclusions and decisions attuned to our subjective values and sensitive to the benefit or harm to persons--ourselves or others--which may result from our behavior. All four of these functions, Jung affirmed, can be exercised by way of extraversion or by way of introversion. He invented this now celebrated distinction to describe the flow of psychic energy inlany given instance of behavior. In extraverted behavior the flow of energy is from the subject towards the object of perception or judgment. In introverted behavior, the flow of energy is in the opposite direction, that is, from the object towards the subject. What makes the difference is not precisely whether the target of our perception or judgment is something outside ourselves or within ourselves, but which way the energy is flowing. Rather commonly, the impulse to share one's perception or judgment immediately with others or at least to give it bodily expression, signals the presence of extraversion (E); while a tendency to gather the perceiving or judging behavior and to deal with it within oneself marks introversion (I). Working independently of Jung, and on theoretical foundations previously explored by her mother, Isabel Briggs Myers developed an instrument which, on the basis of a preference questionnaire, indicated how the respondent prefers to behave in given situations. The typology is based on four sets of polar opposites: extraversion/introversion; sensing/intuiting; thinking/feeling; judging/perceiving. In tabular form: E-I S-N T-F J-P The four pairs of opposites in varying combinations yield sixteen types, each of which is identified with its code e.g. ESTJ; ISFP; ENFJ. In the process of decoding, which we cannot describe in detail here, one arrives at the order of preference of the four functions (described as dominant, auxiliary, third, and inferior), as well as the attitude (introversion or extraversion) of the dominant function. Thus one person's most preferred behavior will be extraverted feeling, another's introverted intuiting, and so forth. Also worth noting is that when the dominant function is a perceiving function (sensing or intuiting), the auxiliary function will be one of the two judging functions (thinking or feeling), the third function will be the other judging function, and the inferior function will be the perceiving function opposite to the dominant 664 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 function. A corresponding pattern will obtain where the dominant function is a judging function. This is one way in which Jung's view of"compensation," or the tendency of the psyche towards balance, is verified. Extensive research and testing, especially with respect to the professions chosen by people of various types, enabled Isabel Myers to construct profiles of the sixteen types. These in turn have won for the M BTI an extensive use in the fields of career guidance, personnel policy, and the dynamics of groups and organizations. The key psychological insight on which the MBTI capitalizes is that people's behavior, development, and relationships are strongly affected by their preferences in perceiving and judging, as well as by the extraverted or introverted character of the respective preferences. If one makes the assumption that persons are capable of enlightenment and growth through free exercise towards more human ways of living, this psychometric tool then becomes a vehicle of human development. Such is the conviction which has sparked enormous interest in the MBTI in recent years. Out of the work of these two American women has emerged the Association for Psychological Type, whose membership has reached 1500, and which has sponsored five biennial conferences for discussing numerous aspects of the typology. One of the interest areas provided for in APT covers religious education, spiritual growth, prayer styles, missionary service, and similar themes.5 With this brief outline of the various functions and the two attitudes which qualify human behavior, we now turn to correlating each of the four functions with forms of Christian prayer. In the case of each of the functions we will ask: What are some of the forms of prayer--individual, group, and liturgical-- which correspond to this function? Sensing Forms of Prayer Forms of prayer corresponding to the sensing function will be, in general, those ways of praying in which we pay attention to present reality in a focused way, whether with the help of the five external senses or through a simple perception of interior reality. Here are some examples of what we may call sensing prayer. l) Vocalprayer, such as the recitation of the psalms or the rosary, will be sensing prayer when the posture of the one praying is characterized by simple attentiveness, a certain contentment with each passing phrase, and an eschewing of rational thought, imaginative scenarios, and strong emotional investment. Sensing prayer tends for the most part to be simple, quiet, undramatic, contemplative, and down to earth. Vocal prayer, whether the words are recited aloud, gently murmured, or just expressed within, are apt vehicles for exercising this side of our personality. 2) The "prayer of simple regard" is a traditional term used to describe a kind of prayer which, I would suggest, has ~he characteristics of sensing prayer. It consists in just "being there," present to present reality, especially to God within the mystery of divine presence. It needs no words (except perhaps to Jungian Types and Forms of Prayer / 665 recall one from distraction) and does not involve strong y~arnings of the heart, but in simplicity accepts the "sacrament of the present moment." 3) The prayerful "application of the senses" may also be an exercise of sensing prayer. But here I understand this term as referring to the use of the five exterior senses, or any one of them, on their appropriate objects. The first part of Fr. Anthony de Mello's widely ready book Sadhana contains many such exercises which he lists under "Awareness.TM The sense of touch, for example, may be prayerfully exercised just by letting myself become aware of bodily sensation, beginning perhaps with the shoulders and working down to the soles of the feet. Touch is also exercised when I attend to how, in breathing, I feel the air as it enters and leaves the nostrils. Listening to sounds in a quiet posture of receptivity and enjoyment is another instance of sensing prayer. Provided I have entered this exercise with faith, I do not need to have recourse to the thought of God or to any devout feelings, even though, as Ft. de Mello suggests, a variation of this exercise might consist in hearing the sounds as God sounding in all the sounds made by nature and humans. Thus the chatter of voices, the purr of a motor in the basement, or the thunder of a ride on the New York subway, can be grist for the mill of sensing prayer. Something similar may be said for gazing as a form of sensing prayer. I may look at objects of devotion, at pictures in a book or album, at faces in a crowd, at the beauties of nature. Even taste and smell can be vehicles of prayer for a person exercising faith with a heightened consciousness. 4) Sensing prayer can also draw upon the interior sense, our capacity for paying attention to what is going on within us. Focusing on our breathing or our heartbeat can be a point of entry. Then we may choose simply to attend to what is happening in inner consciousness, to the words, images, or feelings which spontaneously bubble up from the unconscious. Sometimes this kind of exercise can induce a gradual slowing or cessation of inner chatter, and we can for a while just listen to the silence within. We may even come to a happy interior verification of the Quaker motto, "Don't speak until you can improve on silence." Sometimes people ask with regard ,to such exercises, "Is it really prayer?" Even if it were not, it would not be a bad way of disposing ourselves for prayer. But when it is situated within a life of faith and for the purpose of expressing and deepening our faith, it can be prayer---excellent prayer---even though we do not name God, converse with God, or experience any devout surge of the heart. Sensing Prayer in Groups So far I have been suggesting sensing forms of prayer for the individual. But groups can also pray with an accent on sensing. Various kinds of vocal prayer such as litanies or the Office in common, especially when they are engaged in with simplicity and even with a certain routine, enable the members 666 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 of a group to meet God and one another through the sensing function. It is also possible to create prayer services in which each of the five senses has its place, as, for example, by listening to the tinkle of a bell or to a guitar quietly strumming; by devoutly kissing a crucifix or extending a handclasp of peace; by smelling incense or flowers; by tasting a sip of wine; by focusing on the lighting of a candle. Sensing prayer in common leaves aside what is highly cognitive or interpersonal or imaginative. It calls the group to be together with a great deal of simplicity and quiet awareness of God, one another, and the environment. Sensing in IJturgical Prayer There are times when people come together in larger groups to pray, and particularly to participate in the official or public prayer of the Church. When we celebrate the Eucharist and other sacraments and the divine Office in large assemblies, prayer takes on what I would call a societal character, in contrast to the interpersonal character of prayer shared in small groups.7 The general thesis which I would propose is that a well-celebrated liturgy needs to attend to all four functions. Ideally, each participant and the congregation as a whole should have the opportunity to exercise both sensing and intuiting, thinking and feeling, in extraverted and introverted ways. In the present aspect, sensing prayer, liturgical celebration will meet our humanity when it evokes the exercise of the five senses in a congruous way by inviting the participants to look, listen, touch, taste, and smell, all in a fashion which nourishes their faith and deepens their solidarity. There is no need here to detail how apt the celebration of the sacraments in the Christian and Catholic tradition is for meeting this need of human personality. My impression is that consequent upon Vatican II the effort to break out of liturgical straitjackets sometimes brought an "angelism" insensitive to the importance of the senses in good eucharistic celebration. Heightened attention to the homily tended to move celebration excessively towards the cognitive, to the neglect of the sensate, elements of good celebration. To some degree we are today recovering the importance of the life of the senses in liturgy. This Jungian approach to societal prayer can assist in that recovery. Intuiting Prayer Intuiting prayer may be described as contemplative prayer drawing upon fantasy and imagination, as well as what might be called the prayer of emptiness or the "prayer of the vacant stare. The Jungian tradition uses the term "active imagination" to designate those behaviors in which we let images and symbols freely emerge from the unconscious and flow in consciousness. The term "active" could be misleading, if taken with a connotation of control or shaping reality. There is a sense in which this use of imagination is not active but passive, as the person's posture is one of receptivity. The orientation of such prayer is to what might be, to futuresdreamed of rather than planned. As Jungian Types and Forms of Prayer / 667 the five senses and the interior sense are the vehicles of sensing prayer, so the gift of imagination is what carries intuiting prayer. But, in my opinion, the intuiting function can be at work in prayer even when images are not freely flowing. The vacant stare into space aptly symbolizes a contemplative posture in prayer which is aptly subsumed under intuiting prayer. In such prayer the mind is not occupied with thoughts, the imagination is not delivering images or symbols, and the heart is not strongly surging toward the good. Such prayer of emptiness appears to differ sharply from the prayer of a simple regard, even though both forms are characterized by an absence of thoughts, images, and strong feelings. The difference consists in the focused or unfocused character of the gaze. To use a playful distinction which I once heard Brother David Rast employ, in the prayer of simple regard we are now/here, fully present to the present actuality of life, whereas in what I call the prayer of the vacant stare we are no/where (recall that the Greek term for nowhere is Utopia). Centering Prayer In this context it is worth asking just where "centering prayer" as developed by Fr. Basil Pennington is best situated from the standpoint of the four Jungian functions.8 My own inclination is to view it as a form of intuiting prayer. It is true that centering prayer makes use of a word in the journey to the center; and, as we shall see, the word in prayer belongs primarily to the thinking function. But here the word is functioning not as a mediator of rational meaning but as a carrier of the spirit to the beyond. Centering prayer .has a predominantly unfocused character and brings us to a certain emptiness. Hence I would put it with intuiting prayer. All of this having been said, here are some examples of intuiting prayer for the individual. 1) We have just discussed a first form, centering prayer in the proper sense. 2) The familiar "contemplations" of the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius are appropriately listed under intuiting prayer. But it needs to be noted that these contemplations of the mysteries of the life of Jesus belong also to feeling prayer, as we will see. The imagination is exercised with freedom, but with a view to drawing the heart in love. It is the feeling function, we shall se~, which relates to the past through reminiscence. Perhaps a large part of the power of the Ignatian contemplations consists in the fact that both the dreaming imagination and the heart are drawn on to energize the retreatant engaged in the process of "election." Something similar may be said of the contemplation of the mysteries of the rosary. The imagination freely recreates a scene which contains in symbolic form deep Christian values. 3) Various kinds of fantasy in prayer have an intuitive character. Anthony de Mello's book here again contains some interesting exercises, Christian and non-Christian, under the general heading of "Fantasy." Some which might appear at first to be quite macabre can be a source of intense joy and peace: 661~ / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 attending your own funeral, or the "fantasy on the corpse" which Fr. de Mellow borrowed from the Buddhist series of "reality meditations." 4) Ira Progoff's "Intensive Journal," both in the sections devoted to dealing with dreams and in the various kinds of dialogues, offers an abundance of forms of intuiting prayer. The dialogues may be said to combine intuiting and thinking prayer, the latter because of the dialogue form of the prayer. 5) Praying with the help of symbols engages the intuitive function in a way that can energize us greatly. The journey, the cave, the house, the tree, the Cross, the City--these are just a few of the symbolic possibilities of intuitive prayer. Books of the Bible such as the Fourth Gospel and the Book of Revelation are a source of abundant Christian symbols which can be explored in prayer. 6) Finally, one may prayerfully explore God's call by asking the question, "What would it be like if . " envisaging oneself in alternative human situations, dreaming of new ways of one's pilgrimage. Intuiting Prayer for Groups Many of the approaches to intuiting prayer just described for the individual can be adapted for groups which are praying or prayerfully reflecting together. For example, a community which has gone off to the country or to the shore for some time together might have a very meaningful time of common prayer by having each member bring back some nature-object which symbolizes something important for that person. In planning for the year ahead, a community might put to itself the question, "What would it be like if . "making sure not to become too quickly pragmatic and sensible in dealing with the dreams of particular members for life in common. Another exercise of intuiting prayer in common might be to invite each member to select a Scripture passage which is symbolic of some aspect of the community's life, and to share the passages, taking care to be contemplative, without the need for discussion or response. Intuiting in Liturgical Prayer Lyrics from two well-known religious songs aptly characterize the intuitive element which ought to be present in any liturgical celebration. "Take us beyond the vision of this moment." and "Look beyond the bread you eat . "This note of "beyond," or (in Hopkins' poem, "The Leaden Echo and the Golden Echo") "yonder," corresponds to the eschatological quality of Christian faith. In sacramental celebration, it is the complexus of ritual gestures and of symbols which principally contains the invitation to dream, to be open to a limitless future which is God. Psychologically, this facet of good liturgy is effectively present when the congregation as a whole shares, in joyful hope, this unfocused contemplative expectation of future blessing. Though it may find verbal expression, for example within the readings of the celebration, its primary vehicle will be symbol, inviting to the "vacant stare.~ Jungian Types and Forms of Prayer / 669 Feeling Prayer Forms of prayer which correspond to the feeling function are rather easily described. They will be exercises of prayer characterized by affection, intimacy, and the devout movement of the heart. More specifically, feeling prayer takes place when the exercise of memory in gratitude or compunction brings us back to the roots whence our values are derived, when we come back home, so to speak, in the mysteries of the Gospel, the origins of a particular religious heritage, or the sources in our own personal life through which the gift of faith came to us. The third section of de Mello's Sadhana contains an abundance of such exercises of prayer. Here is a briefer listing of some forms: l) Any form of prayer in which affective dialogue takes place, with God, with Jesus or Mary or any of the saints, or with those who have been important in our personal life, verifies this kind of prayer. In the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, the contemplation of the mysteries leads to such affectionate "colloquy," in which the grace being sought includes a growth in intimate love. 2) Aspirations, when they are repeated with a view to stirring the heart, are a second way of exercising feeling prayer. The "Jesus prayer" of the Eastern tradition, when said with a view to engaging the affections, is a major example. 3) One can also wander "down memory lane" in one's own life, recalling the persons, the experiences, the behaviors, which have had great influence on one's growth. Such prayer of the heart can often be combined with the exercise of imagination, as we recreate a scene of childhood, for example, or tender moments later in life which make us grateful. Gratitude and compunction are the two distinctive graces of such kinds of prayer. For each one of us, the past contains both the gifts of God, especially in the form of the goodness of persons, and our failure to respond trustingly and generously to those gifts. 4) All of us have favorite hymns and songs, and sometimes in solitary prayer our hearts can be deeply mox~ed by singing them quietly, or letting their melodies flow through our inner consciousness. 7he Feeling Function in Group Prayer When groups pray together with some regularity, it can help occasionally if the prayer is directed toward the heart. This calls for discretion, of course, for even when the members know each other well there will remain considerable differences in the ability and desire to manifest emotion in common prayer. But experience will show just what is possible and desirable. Music and song is an easy vehicle, usually unembarrassing. The group might listen to an endearing hymn, or to some instrumental music which appeals to the heart. Story telling, the sharing of personal history about a theme important for the faith life of the group, is another simple and easy way of being together in an affectionate way. 671) / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 Spontaneous prayer, in which people are free to pray aloud and from the heart, can also deepen the bonds of affection within a community, and strengthen the common commitment to shared values. This is an appropriate place to mention the relationship of spiritual direction. At least in a broad sense it is part of the prayer life of both the director and the one being directed. It calls for the engagement of all four of the functions. But, inasmuch as it is an intimate relationship of two persons of faith and aimed at the fostering of Gospel values in the life of the person being directed, it calls particularly for the exercise of the feeling function. This is not the place to discuss the question of friendship within this relationship of spiritual direction, apart from observing that there are contrary views on the subject. But, whatever discretion may be called for to preserve the character of the dialogue as one of spiritual, direction, it remains a situation where the feeling function is expressed interpersonally. Feeling in Public Prayer From'what has already been said readers will be able to describe for themselves the aspects of liturgical prayer and other forms of public prayer which correspond to the feeling function. There is significant difference, of course, between the face-to-face prayer of a small group and the largely anonymous quality of public prayer in large assemblages. There will be corresponding differences, therefore, in the ways in which this side of our humanity finds expression. In my opinion, one of the imbalances of recent years with regard to our expectations of liturgy is that we have often expected it to nourish intimacy in ways beyond its power. Concomitantly, we have tended to lose contact with the deep enrichment which can come to our affective life from such experiences of faith. However one may be personally disposed toward the large gatherings of charismatics which have become such an important part of public prayer and worship, it needs to be said that the charismatic movement is more effectively in touch with this facet of our humanity than most people are. Some of the scenes in which John Paul II has been involved in his worldwide travels provide a further illustration of the energy which flows from religious values through societal prayer and worship. In particular, hymns sung by thousands of voices can be memorable in their impact, as anyone who has been to Lourdes or Rome can testify. The Thinking Function in Prayer I have left the thinking function till last for a few reasons. One is that I find it to be neglected and even, at times, disparaged. Why this is the case is understandable in relationship to the rediscovery of the life of feeling which has taken place in Roman Catholic circles in recent decades. Prayer had, in many respects, become too "cognitized," partly through a reduction of the Ignatian tradition to what was conceived as the Ignatian method of prayer as Jungian Types and Forms of Prayer / 671 exemplified in the well-known schema of a nineteenth-century Jesuit general, John-Baptist Roothan. In any case the thinking function in prayer has a rather poor press nowadays. Even Anthony de Mello writes, A word about getting out of your head: The head is not a very good place for prayer. It is not a bad place for starting your prayer. But if your prayer stays there too long and doesn't move into the heart it will gradually dry up and prove tiresome and frustrating. You must learn to move out of the area of thinking and talking and move into the area of feeling, sensing, loving, intuiting? Ft. de Mello is faithful to this conviction, for his book is divided into three parts, corresponding more or less to the sensing, intuiting, and feeling functions. There is no section on thinking prayer. Doesn't something more positive need to be said about our capability of meeting God through the rational mind? Surely it is no less important a part of God's image in us than the life of sense, feeling, and imagination. And, within the unity of the person, it is intimately linked in its workings with the operations of these other facets of our humanity. But instead of arguing theoretically for a place for thinking in prayer, let me offer some examples of how one may pray with the rational mind. l) A clear instance of thinking prayer for the individual is the famous "First Principle and Foundation" of the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola. I can ponder it during a period of prayer and, first, try to appreciate its simple logic in the linkage of purpose, means, and attitude. After savoring its truth I can then examine my life to see where there is order and-where there is disorder, and just what area calls for the struggle to be free from inordinate affections. Knowing that I cannot free myself, I can turn to ask God's help. Then I can make a few practical resolutions touching some steps on the road to freedom. Such highly cognitive activities in prayer are really prayer, and not merely preliminaries to prayer. 2) Prayer may also take the form of setting down a personal charter or set of basic principles by which I wish to live, e.g., "Every human being I meet is worthy of my respect." Periodically I can review this set of principles in order to evaluate and improve my fidelity. 3) I may choose also to draw up for myself a plan of life, which would include a daily or weekly schedule of prayer, reading, provisions for work and leisure, practice with respect to money, and so forth. 4) From time to time I may wish to take a book of the Bible, and, with the help of a good commentary, carefully and systematically over a period of some weeks seek a deeper grasp of God's word, attending to the structure of the work, its cultural setting, the precise meaning of terms, and so forth. I may wish to write my own paraphrase of the book, or use the text as the basis of my own reflections. Most of us are accustomed to contrast prayer and study. But when study of God's word takes place within a life of faith and for the purpose of fostering faith, I believe that it lacks nothing of the reality of prayer itself. 679 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 Thinking Prayer in Groups Not all group prayer needs to be self-revelatory and strongly interpersonal in its character. The common recitation of the Office or prayer of the Church is a good example of communal thinking prayer. Such prayer is characterized by clear structure, orderly procedure, and the absence of strong emotions. While it would be untrue to say that affectivity is absent, what prevails is a sense of meaning and purpose. Especially when such prayer includes reading a passage from Scripture or from some other source, the mind's desire for meaning is being fed. Spiritual reading, which is another form of thinking prayer for individuals which might have been mentioned, can also take place within a group united in faith. Thinking in Liturgical Prayer Liturgical celebration, especially when it occurs in larger assemblies of people, takes on a societal or public character. The very term liturgy conveys this, of course. Inasmuch as the movement from the private to the public in all dimensions of our life involves a significant shift of behavioral attitudes, it brings to the fore the thinking side of our personality. As we begin to relate to people outside the circle of intimacy, it becomes necessary to create conven-tions, etiquettes, structures, which provide us with supports and safeguards as we relate to larger and more anonymous gatherings of people. It is for such reasons that our liturgical celebrations contain a good deal of structure and ritual gesture, and tend to be less highly personal than informal prayer in small groups. More of the thinking side of our humanity needs to be engaged when we celebrate the Eucharist and other ceremonies on a large scale. Similarly to what was said previously about sensing prayer in public worship, I think that we can be helped to understand both the tensions and the failures which have characterized our experience of liturgical worship during the past few decades if we bring to bear on them an understanding of personality types. At the risk of being simplistic one might say that the Tridentine liturgy had become ossified and institutionalistic in its absolutizing of the thinking mode of public worship. This made it understandable that, in the swing of the pendulum in recent decades, we experienced some loss of the basic sense of structure, decorum, and ritual which needs to preside over our public prayer. Some (not all) of the negative reactions to the kiss of peace probably stem from an uneasiness lest the distinction of private and public worship be overlooked. The present juncture, I would say, is a time when we need to recapture, without returning to rigorism and institutionalism, the rich energies of a thinking kind contained in our sacramental and liturgical traditions. We will pray much better in public if we prize this aspect of our .humanity and of our Christian prayer. Jungian Types and Forms of Prayer Further Considerations Up to now this article has offered principally a correlation of forms of prayer, chiefly individual but also interpersonal and societal, with the four functions of the Jungian personality types. As has already been said, we should be wary of too easy identification of any of the sixteen types with one or other preferred way of praying. It is not one's type alone but a variety of factors which affect our attractions in prayer. Two of these factors will now be discussed briefly. They concern 1) prayer as an exercise of leisure; 2) prayer in the stages of human development. Prayer and Leisure One plausible theory which one hears voiced in Jungian circles would have it that, when we turn from the areas of work and profession to the exercise of leisure, there is a spontaneous inclination in the psyche to move from a more preferred to a less preferred side of our personality. In terms of the functions this would mean, for example, that a person whose work or ministry calls for a great deal of extraverted intuiting--being with people in situations which call for a good deal of creative imagination--will spontaneously seek relaxation after labor by some quiet exercise of sensing: baking a cake with careful attention to measurements, or working at one's stamp collection, or hooking a rug according to a given pattern. Similarly, someone whose work is highly analytical and impersonal, let us say in dealing with a computer, might want to relax by sharing a Tchaikovsky concert or a TV sitcom with a few friends. Such a suggestion makes a good deal of sense, especially in view of the natural mechanisms of compensation which seem to be built into our psychic life. If one then adds the similarly plausible suggestion that prayer is or ought to be an exercise of leisure, then we would appear to have a useful criterion for evaluating our forms of prayer, and for suggesting new approaches to prayer, particularly when we seem to be getting nowhere. In such a view, we might profitably ask ourselves from time to time whether our behavior in prayer does not tend to be too much a compulsive continuation of the kind of behavior which we prefer in our work or ministry. And we might, if such is the case, deliberately seek ways of praying which helped to disengage us from such compulsive patterns. Someone whose primary gift, for example, is introverted intuiting, and who spends a good deal of time in the course of the day exercising that gift, might deliberately choose some extraverted sensing forms of prayer, for example, praying the rosary with simple attention to the words, the touch of the beads, and so forth. Or someone whose ministry makes heavy emotional demands---caring for the senile or the retarded, or counselling disturbed people, for example--might find some interior exercise of thinking prayer to be balancing and eventually attractive. One small suggestion regarding this experiencing of leisu're in prayer. It should take place, like all prayer, not by violence but by attrai:tion. It might well be that, though one appreciates the value of shifting gears when one 674 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 approaches prayer, it is not so easy to disengage from one's favored behavior. One might have to make an entry through the preferred function, especially an auxiliary function, before learning to exercise a less preferred function, especially the inferior function, in prayer. This use of the auxiliary function to wean us away from too exclusive a reliance on the dominant function is part of a Jungian strategy of individuation. It would seem to be applicable to strategies in prayer. For example, if thinking is my dominant function and I exercise it abundantly in my work, I may find myself attached to it even when I come to prayer. Instead of directly trying to rouse myself to feeling prayer, I might begin by letting my auxiliary sensing direct my gaze to particular objects, interior or exterior, which in turn and in due time may stir my heart to affective prayer. The philosophy of non-violence has an important area of application in prayer. Prayer and Development Numerous are the theories which, in the present century, have sought to plot the course of human development, in its cognitive, affective, social and ethical aspects. The well-known names of Piaget, Maslow, Erikson, Fowler, and others have provided rich insights into the various facets of growth. One characteristic of a Jungian perspective on development is that, in the light of the diversity of personality types, it will be wary of imposing a monOlithic pattern on the wide variety of human preferences. When prayer is viewed in this light, there are some salutary cautions and perhaps some qualifications of long-standing assumptions .about progress in prayer. Dr. W. Harold Grant has, for some years, been investigating the hypothesis of our ~pe.riods of differentiated human development, starting at age six and ending at fifty, with major switching points taking place at twelve, twenty, and thirty-five. In each of the four periods, according to the hypothesis, the person would be developing one of the four functions: the dominant in childhood, the auxiliary in adolescence, the third function in early adulthood, and, from the age of thirty-five on, the inferior function. The hypothesis includes also an alternation of introversion and extraversion in the successive periods. Prior to age six and subsequent to age fifty development would be taking place more randomly, and not selectively, as in the four periods between six and fifty. If one accepts this as a plausible hypothesis, some implications for forms of prayer at the differe.nt stages of life would seem to be present. First, one would be open to the possibility that the spontaneous employ of sense, imagination, reason, and affection in prayer may not be uniform for all persons or types. Any such prevailing assumption that growth in prayer takes place first by the use of reason and imagination and then, in a darknight experience, by their cessation, might have to yield to a view which acknowledges more diversity in the way in which the attachment/detachment phenomenon takes place in different types of personalities. Jungian Types and Forms of Prayer / 675 Secondly, the hypothesis may help to throw light on crisis periods in people's prayer lives, by suggesting that the emergence of a new function-- especially of the inferior function about the age of thirty-fiv~e--may be signaled through the decline or collapse of previously fruitful ways of praying. It might also suggest that the person involved in such a crisis might do well to explore some alternative ways of praying, ways which would be in keeping with whatever function was seeking to find its place in consciousness. Let us think, for example, of persons in whom feeling is dominant, experiencing something of a crisis in prayer around mid-life. They might do well, with the help of a. director, to exercise their thinking side in prayer, for example, by keeping a journal in which reflection on the meaning of what they are experiencing, or meditation on the meaning of some scriptural passages, was cultivated. It should be obvious that these two factors, touching the question of leisure and the question of diversity in human development, do not exhaust the sources which make for different experiences in prayer. Factors stemming from each person's unique personal history will be at least as important in deciding what course we wish to chart in prayer. And ultimately, as has already been said, it is the attraction of the Spirit of God at every juncture of life which is the primary determinant of how we choose to pray. Conclusion But if it all comes down at last to attraction, why bother consulting the Jungian types for help in praying? For two principal reasons. First, such a consultation will make us wary of being misled by stereotypes of prayer and of progress in prayer, and particularly of the monolithic character of many descriptions of growth in prayer, even among the great classics. And secondly, when persons are in a time of crisis or barrenness in prayer, they may be helped in dealing with the situation if they have had some practice in a variety of ways of praying, and if they realize the affinity between these various ways and the different functions within the Jungian personality types. With the reservations we have indicated in this article, acquaintance with one's type through the MBTI can help foster better praying. NOTES ~See, for example, Morton Kelsey, The Other Side of Silence, (New York: Paulist, 1976); idem, Transcend: A Guide to the Spiritual Quest, (New York: Crossroad, 1981); John Sanford, Healing and Wholeness, (New York: Paulist, 1977); idem, The Invisible Partners, New York: Paulist, 1980); Wallace B. Clift, Jung and Christianity: The Challenge of Reconcilation, (New York: Crossroad, 1982); John Welch, Spiritual t~'lgrims: Carl Jung and Teresa of Avila, (New York: Paulist, 1982); Robert Doran, "Jungian Psychology and Christian Spirituality," P~vtEw FOr RELtatot/s 38 (1979), pp. 497-510; 742-52; 857-66. 2See Isabel Briggs Myers, Gifts Differing, (Palo Alto: Consulting Psychologists Press, 1980). 676 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 3See Christopher Bryant, Heart in Pilgrimage: Christian Guidelines for the Human Journey, (New York: Seabury, 1980), pp. 182-195; Robert Repicky, "Jungian Typology and Christian Spirituality," REVtEW FOR REMGtOVS, 40 (1981) pp. 422-435. 4See W. Harold Grant, Mary Magdala Thompson, Thomas E. Clarke, From Image to likeness: A Jungian Path in the Gospel Journey, (New York: Paulist, 1983). SAPT publishes a newsletter, MBTI News, for its membership, and is based at 414 S.W. 7th Terrace, Gainesville, FL 32601. 6See Anthony de Mello, Sadhana: A Way to God, (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1979). 7See Thomas E. Clarke, "Toward Wholeness in Prayer," in: William R. Callahan & Francine Cardman, 7he Wind ls Rising: Prayer Ways for Active People (Hyattsville, MD: Quixote Center, 1978), pp. 18-20. sSee Thomas Keating, M. Basil Pennington, Thomas E. Clarke, Finding Grace at the Center, (Still River, MA: St. Bede Publications, 1978). 9De Mello, p. 13. The Time for Figs There twinges in my heart A pity for that fig tree--barren-- Caught up within the eyes of Christ, Cursed by his lips. There echo in my soul Defenses for the tree's unburdened limbs Held light against the sky-- Perhaps because it's I who am the fig tree, content to wait the seasons out. But now is the time for figs-- Season or not-- IX, e looked for the sun too long, Yearned for the rain to come and comfort me, The earth to gather and to nourish. It is the time for figs-- The hungry and the weak pass by And the blossoms are an empty, bitter food. It is the time for bearing. Oh, Jesus. look again on me And cause in me such heaviness of fruit That it shall fall unreached for round your foot. The season is ripe: It is the time for figs. Sister Ann Maureen. I.H.M. 11201 Academy Road Philadelphia, PA 19154 Prayer of the Paschal Mystery: Sorrow in the Risen Lord's Company David Hassel, S.J. In this article Father Hassel continues to explore the subject of Radical Prayer (also the title of his recent book). His last article for us, "The Prayer of Daily Decisioning: Hungering for God's Will," appeared in the issue of May/June, 1983. He continues to live and teach at Loyola University, where he may be addressed: Jesuit Community; Loyola University of Chicago; 6525 North Sheridan Road; Chicago, 1L 60626. Prayer, taken radically, is a deep attitude towards life, a basic way of living in the world with God and with others. Thus prayer of reminiscence is characterized by an attitude of thankfulness; prayer of Christ's memories (Gospel prayer), by a deep wanting to companion Christ; prayer of listening-waiting., by a strong trusting in God's graciousness; prayer of contemplation; by an aCtitude of welcome to God and his worldJ How, then, would one characterize the attitude behind the life and prayer of the Paschal Mys~ery.'~ . One of the presumed grand masters of the spiritual life, Ignatius Loyola, 3 . challenges, even shocks, us when he describes the life of the Paschal Mystery and thereby implies the type of prayerful attitude of humility which, he thinks, animates this life: The most perfect kind of humility [its third stage] consists in this . Whenever the praise and glory of the Divine Majesty would be equally served, in order to imitate and be in reality more like Christ our Lord, I desire and choose poverty with Christ poor, rather than riches; insults with Christ loaded with them, rather than honors; I desire to be accounted as worthless and a fool for Christ, rather than to be esteemed as wise and prudent in this world. So Christ was treated before me.3 At first sight, this third stage of humility, i.e., this prayerful attitude of Paschal- Mystery life, appears to be incredibly negative. It is seemingly a rejection of contemporary incarnation theology which so strongly emphasizes creativity and the resurrection. In Ignatius' description of the Paschal-Mystery life, the 677 6711 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 crucified Christ seems alone to occupy one's vision, and the good Christian appears to ambition nothing more than poverty, ignominy, and degradation. In such a pessimistic, if not inhumane, way of life and prayer, Christ's resurrection and the Christian's consequent joyful creativity would seem to have little place. The shock increases when it dawns on the person praying within the Spiritual Exercises that Ignatius considered this third stage of humility the very heart of the Gospels for all Christians and not simply the storm center of life for his Jesuit sons.4 Could, then, this third stage be accurately describing the prayerful attitude and life of the Paschal Mystery? Is it possible that, in grappling with Ignatius' description, we could come to understand more satisfactorily this mystery of Christ's death and resurrection occurring within us? If such wrestling is to be worth our time, then our first effort should be to deal with those initial distracting fears and angers surfacing against the challenge of this third stage of humility. Having thus somewhat freed our hearts and minds, we could then more fairly check out whether or not Ignatius' third stage of humility expresses truly, though only partially, the Paschal Mystery of the Gospels. If it should do so, then we are ready to catch, within our experience, the four scriptural pulse-beats which may define our attitudinal prayer of the Paschal Mystery. Following this, we could seek out the signs of 'he Paschal Mystery felt within our prayer experience and later describe some imple ways of deepening this prayer within us. Here it is notable how Paschal- Mystery prayer may well be a basic attitude towards all of life even amid acute suffering. Could it possibly turn out to be a strengthening joy (the risen Christ himself?.) within our demanding apostolic endeavors? Fears Diverting Us from Praying the Third Stage of Humility On first hearing Ignatius' third stage of humility proposed, most of us experience deep fears. These quickly smother any attempts at considering, luch more praying over, this terrible challenge to our sensibility and to our .ationality. Consequently, before even trying to understand the third stage of aumility as an expression of the Paschal-Mystery life, we must face these powerful fears.5 One initial fear is that my educated skills will be lost in the muddle of becoming poor with Christ poor. My education is a richness not appreciated by the uneducated poor and not supportable in impoverished circumstances. Ask the U.S.-educated Filipino physician or Indian technician returned to his native city if this is not the case. This means that I will rarely get the time or have the equipment to pursue my art or music or sociology or psychology or computer mathematics or history or engineering~ My talents will lie dormant and later atrophied; my personality will be impoverished and made dull; my angry frustration, like a corrosive agent, will burn me out. Indeed, identification with the poor Christ would eventually strip away all prize possessions like my car; stereophonic tape and recording deck, modish Prayer of the Paschal Mystery / 679 clothes, well-stocked refrigerator, the social rounds with close friends, regular opportunities for vacations, long-distance telephone calls, comfortable bank-account, and a few other precious items. For, when one identifies with the poor in their work, neighborhood, and life-style, one inevitably assumes their ways no matter how skilled, talented or comfortably endowed one may be. A second source of fear is the call to identify with Christ dishonored. If my~ skills, talents and perquisites are enfeebled, I will certainly become less effective' in my work, perhaps, too, in my human relationships. Where once before I was respected for my skillful intelligence, artistic finesse, and guaranteed delivery of promised products; now; I am seen as the bumbler. This, in turn, could well involve a distancing from my friends, not simply because I no longer look good to them but more because our times together will be fewer, our interests different, and our cultural neighborhoods far apart. In other words, like Christ's poor, I will be gradually reduced to being a marginal person whose voice is no longer heard in the councils of the great or small. I will be lost in the masses. This last statement reveals the root-source of all ~my fears concerning the third stage of humility: self-annihilation. The fear of death, the most powerful dread of my life, repels me from the embrace of the third stage. I do not want to be the grain of wheat dying to produce a further harvest. I do not want to lose control of my life, my developing personality, my destiny. The third stage seems to demand a total trust--something which I am willing to award only to myself. Living the third stage of humility appears to be slow suicide. Historical examples abound to let me know that my fears are well grounded. Damien of Molakai identified only too well with his sick lepers and was rewarded with government disdain. Many founders of religious orders have discovered themselves made marginal within their own communities when they identified too fully with the maligned Christ; for example, Francis of Assisi, Madeline Sophie Barat, Cornelia Connelly, and Guillaume Chami-nade. 6 Teilhard de Chardin, a man all his life hidden in Christ, was considered a dangerous fool by the superorthodox Christians and a silly fool by those appreciative of his writings and paleontological competence but not compre-hending of his obedience to Church authorities.7 More recently in El Salvador, Archbishop Romero and Rutilio Grande were hated, disparaged, and then assassinated in the same way as their despised campesino friends with whom they identified,s In response to these fears stimulated by the third stage of humility, one may say that those living this stage can die to one career and then rise to a new one far more fruitful for the Church. Note how Mother Teresa of Calcutta moved out of the classroom and her congregation to dedicate her life to those literally dying in the streets of Calcutta and to the founding of a new worldwide congregation. One can also point out that those living the third stage develop new talents and skills to their own great surprise as when one priest of my acquaintance, being ordered under obedience to do spiritual 6111} / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 direction with some difficult personalities, discovered a new ability for counseling and a fresh realism of judgment which made him much more effective in classroom and pulpit, his first interest. As a third instance of victory coming out of defeat, notice how voices, suppressed or muffled with dishonor before the Second Vatican Council, now echo more strongly than ever within and outside the Church. I speak of Yves Congar, Karl Rahner, Henri de Lubac, and John Courtney Murray. Their sufferings, undergone in silent loyalty to the Church, have validated their insights and given new life to the Church. Just as the missionary letters of that long-dead "failure," Francis Xavier, populated the sixteenth-century novitiates and lured thousands to the missions; so, the lives of these contemporary heroes for Christ raise hope and ambition in countless Christians to serve the Church and her anawim (the marginal and powerless people). The above responses to fears of the third stage are unfortunately only slight glimpses into that Paschal-Mystery attitude which Ignatius' third stage of humility attempts to express. Their inadequacy is painful. Yet they indicate how greatly faith and trust enter into the living of the Paschal Mystery. This does demand of us a remarkable willingness to entrust our priceless skills, talents, possessions, reputation, friends, and hopes into the hands of the poor, dishonored, and unappreciated Christ. The great temptation is to refuse this ultimate trust lest one lose all comfort, much respect from others, and a satisfying career, when actually this "death" through trust may be the final and fullest growth of person in the Christian. The Third Stage of Humility and the Paschal Mystery If living the third stage of humility should turn out to be a deep living of the Paschal Mystery and therefore to be at the heart of the Gospel, then evidently one could never totally comprehend this third stage any more than one could exhaustively understand the Paschal Mystery. But at least one can attempt to remove some of the blinding misunderstandings of the third stage which keep people from appreciating and from living the Paschal Mystery. In other words, the best one can do here is to remove exterior obstacles for the one wishing to pray and to live the third stage of humility. Then, as this person enters into the Paschal Mystery, his or her life will be illumined and directed by a new wisdom--a wisdom which slowly dawns within any person attempting to identify more and more with Christ poor and dishonored. First of all, a frequent charge against the third stage of humility is that it is anti-creationist. This would be true if its expression of the heart of the Gospels did not fit well the first two chapters of Genesis, the first four chapters of the Letter to the Ephesians, and the first chapter of the Letter to the Colossians, where man and woman are to complete God's creation by mastering and developing it. Therefore, the third stage, if it be validly Christian, must mean that identification with Christ poor and dishonored is a creative act. It cannot be, even implicitly, a depreciation or suppression of those human skills, talents, Prayer of the Paschal Mystery / 611"1 and opportunities which make woman, man, and the universe more beautiful and more joyful. Otherwise the third stage as an attempted expression of the Paschal Mystery is inhumane and is to be regarded as unchristian. Consequently, it is vicious to interpret the third stage as insisting that we ask for and directly seek out sickness, business failure, loss of friendship, defeat, the misery of poverty, and the humiliation of dishonor in order to become closer to Christ. This would be to make the third stage a depraved description of the Paschal Life--as though it were requiring that we pursue evil in order to be more perfect Christians. Such a. style of life would not only destroy its pursuants but seriously injure all the people whom the pursuants are trying to serve and companion. Such spiritual athleticism based on a totally negative theology of the cross exemplifies more a gross pride than a Christlike humility. Man has been given a free and inventive nature so that he can cooperate with a free and inventive God to make the world more beautifully humane. In this way, man and woman attain full manhood and womanhood, that is, they become more like the risen Christ. Indeed, the Lord has promised his close followers that they will receive a hundredfold "houses, brothers, sisters, mothers, children, and land--not without persecutions--now in this present time and, in the world to come, eternal life" (Mk 10:29-30; Mt 19:27-30; Lk 18:31-33- Jerusalem Bible). It is precisely those living the third stage who are more eligible, amid persecutions, for this hundredfold of creative joy based on interpersonal relationships. Secondly, this hundredfold is guaranteed by the Christ of today, the risen Christ, who is the present Lord of the universe and the future culmination of all history. Nevertheless this Christ, under the Father, has freely chosen, even preferred, for himself and for his followers, to win his kingdom through suffering as well as joy, through defeat as well as victory. For the risen Christ is also the Christ of the passion and death; he carries the wounds in his risen body. But because he is the resurrected, immortal Lord, no Christian's suffering or defeat will be without the joy of his strengthening presence. For this rea.son, underneath the sufferings described in the third stage of humility, there must be a strong and perduring joy, namely the strength by which the suffering Christian perdures without bitterness. This is, of course, the Paschal Mystery working itself out, as simultaneous crucifixion and resurrection, in the life of every true Christian. More specifically, this joy would be union with Christ and oneness with his Church. There is a third reason for suspecting that a joyful creativity strengthens the living of the third stage: God's every action in the universe is meant to make all the human participants more human. After all, God's glory, as extrinsic to his own being, is precisely and more fully the wholesomeness of humankind, the fuller womanhood and manhood of each person. The paradox occurs when the Christian is asked to trust that a particular suffering or sorrow will not end in a diminishment, but rather in an enhancing of his or her person, so long as 6112 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 the pain is borne trustingly in and with Christ suffering. To look back twenty. years and to reflect with Christ upon a particular calamity is, often enough, to discover in oneself an important growth-period. But even if an objector to the third stage of humility were to agree that underlying this state would be a strengthening joy and peace, he could still accuse the third stage of encouraging individualism, simply a "me and Jesus suffering" type of piety. This forces us to clarify what is meant when the third stage urges us "to choose poverty with Christ poor, rather than riches; insults with Christ loaded with them, rather than honors." The question is: "Who is this Christ?" Is he only the historical Christ of Nazareth or is he also the mystical Christ which is the Church and which is unified by the one presence of the risen historical Christ? Because the Ignatian Exercises are aimed at enabling the retreatant to make decisions which will expand the kingdom of Christ according to Christ's standard, the Christ of the third stage must be also the Mystical Christ, the Church. Thus, the third stage of humility is basically other-centered. It makes little sense unless it represents a deeper loyalty to the historical risen Christ and to his people. Its inner dynamic is, then, to put the retreatant in contact with the poor, the abandoned, the lonely, the twisted, the sick, the unhappy of Matthew's famous last-judgment scene (25:31-46): "whatever you did to the least of these brothers of mine, you did to me." The third stage of humility, then, as an expression of the Paschal Mystery has a powerful apostolic thrust because it not only rises out of the deepest personal loyalty to the risen historical Christ of Nazareth but reaches out in wholehearted social loyalty to the Mystical Christ, the Church. Naturally, if the Christian lives deeply with these poor and dishonored of Christ, he will become marked with their characteristics. Let a priest or layman work closely with the homosexual community and he will be labeled a homosexual and treated accordingly. Let a laywoman or a nun work in a woman's rights organization and she will be labeled fanatic, abortion-minded, man-hating. The psychiatrist spending long hours with the mentally disturbed risks not only his own mental health but also the stigma of being considered "a mere shrink." It is literally dangerous to live the third stage and to identify with Christ's poor and dishonored. Thus this basic attitude of the third stage is no mere mental fiction--for example, a mental trick to be used for giving one balance against the inclina-tions of Original Sin towards the easier way of life. It is, on the contrary, a real preference to be with Christ's suffering people, a definite mind-set and heart-set which enable the Christian to do pioneer work wherever people are hurting most from neglect and weakness. Such an attitude also enables the sick person to accept his or her illness positively as an opportunity for knowing Christ better and for contributing in some hidden way to the good of Christ's people. It enables, too, the South American labor-organizer to risk his life in order to rescue his people from economic slavery and psychological degradation. Prayer of the Paschal Mystery / 15113 All this takes for granted that suffering and sorrow can be creative moments in the Christian's life. Not that suffering and sorrow of themselves are creative; they are destructive in themselves--unless good is drawn out of their evil. But the person living the third stage of humility as an expression of the Paschal Mystery is convinced in faith that God the Father intends to draw good out of the evils spawned by personal sin and by original sin. Further, he is sure that Christ the Son has preferred to achieve the liberation of man through suffering, and that the Holy Spirit prefers to achieve the unification of the Church and of mankind through human historical sufferings as he completes the universe. This is the central mystery of life, that God would want the world to reach its destiny through suffering and defeat as much as through joy and victorious accomplishment. Somehow, t.hrough suffering and sorrow, a depth of wisdom, patience and loyalty is reached, which in this present world is not available to those enjoying the easier life. Under the illumination of.Christ's resurrected life, this vital mystery of earthly suffering and joy is seen to be the Paschal Mystery of resurrection amid death, i.e., of creative power amid galling limitations and sharp agonies. This is why one can speak of creative suffering when dealing with the third stage of humility. In contrast to the stifling self-pity which arises in one who sees no reason for personal suffering except bad luck, the person of the third stage is aware that God does not waste a moment of human suffering. Instead, every twinge of pain, every throb of sorrow, every burning moment of fair and unfair humiliation, every blasted hope, can somehow, by God's providence, contribute to the final cooperative triumph of humanity and God: that Great Community of the Great Today and Tomorrow called the Communion of Saints. Man, however, must allow his sufferings and sorrows to become creative by identifying them with the risen Christ's passion and death. In this way a person wastes nothing. All his or her skills, talents, capacity to love, and opportunities to build a better world are focused positively on others and are not paralyzed by bitter self-pity. Indeed, this pers

Issue 47.3 of the Review for Religious, May/June 1988. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The edito-rial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO. 63108-3393. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS iS owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. ©1988 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Single copies $3.00. Subscriptions: U.S.A. $12.00 a year; $22.00 for two years. Other countries: for surface mail, add $5.00 per year; for airmail, add $20.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVtEW FOR RELIGIOUS; P.O. BOX 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read M. Anne Maskey, O.S.F. Acting Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors May/June 1988 Volume 47 Number 3 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave., Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. Effective, Nondefensive Communication Between Clergy and Religious Women Robert J. Wicks, Psy.D. This article is adapted from an invited address presented at the 1986 Annual Vicars for Religious Eastern Regional Conference on November 7, 1986, at the St. Raphaela Retreat House, Haverford, Pennsylvania. Dr. Wicks, author of Availability. the Problem and the Gift, is Professor of Pastoral Counseling and Director of Program Development in the Loyola College Pastoral Counseling Department; 7135 Minstrel Way, Suite 101; Columbia, Maryland 21045. Good communication cannot solve every problem; to think so is naive. However, good communication can set the stage for metanoia (conver-sion). Therefore, in light of this all must be done to take advantage of the opportunity it offers-~even though, as one might expect, the cost of this conversion (in terms of openness, patience, and persistent assertive-ness) may be quite substantial. Considering this cost, from a psychological point of view there must be a real effort taken to remove all of the unnecessary interpersonal stress involved through the employment of good communication techniques; whereas, from a spiritual vantage point we must see the goal of effec-tive communication and relationship formation between male and female leaders of the Church as a positive challenge which inspires further steps toward openness rather than one that is threatening and discouraging, caus-ing avoidable anxiety. The movement toward Christian intimacy and interdependence must then be based on a hope that is very much tied to our faith; for with a strong faith--even when we are in the midst of an interaction that seems 321 399 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 to be pulling us apart or are in an apparently complete impasse--we will never lose sight of the key biblical injunction "Be not afraid." In the simple words of Paul to the Philippians: In the name of the encouragement you owe me in Christ, in the name of solace that love can give, of fellowship in spirit, compassion and pity, I beg you: make my joy complete by your unanimity, possessing the one love, united in spirit and ideals. Never act out of rivalry or conceit; rather, let all parties think humbly of others as superior to themselves, each of you looking to others' interests rather than his [her] own (Ph 2:1- 4). His call must be one that all men and women in Christ must heed. And clergy and religious women (the term "religious women" is used instead of "women religious" because it is more inclusive) need to lead the way in continuing to model this struggle for partnership in ministry. One of the realities that I believe many of us do not realize about com-munication between clergy and religious women in this age of occasional ministerial conflict between women and men is that communication is better now between these two groups than ever before in the modern Church. In the past the dissemination of information may have been easier and the discussions more comfortable, but if we are to look at commu-nication as a two-way communication where self-disclosure and the un-covering of agendas are involved, communication between clergy and re-ligious women is, in a real sense, a recent post-Vatican II phenomenon. Prior to this, in many instances because of structures and roles, the in-formation flowed primarily in one direction; this was not only unfair to all concerned but it also held back the Christian community because com-munication is a mainstay of interpersonal vitality. With these points as a backdrop then, we must enter into the topic of effective, nondefensive communication between clergy and religious women with a sense of reality and a deep attitude of hope. If we want, psychology can provide practical information to help, but we must also recognize that this is a spiritual movement; tht~s, in this light we have a responsibility to guide it but an equal mandate not to try to control it. To do so would only prove both frustrating and disastrous. In an effort to place sound psychology at the service of this move-ment, three questions will be addressed: I. How do people respond to communication?This question is im-portant because we often have the assumption that communication is nor- Effective, Nondefensive Communication / 323 mally received with welcome arms and are surprised when this does not happen. II. Who is receiving the message? This question is helpful to address because of the dramatic way a message can be affected, accepted, or re-jected when there is little reflection on whom we are addressing in terms of a number of variables. III. How is effective communication an element in an overall trans-formation of one's attitude and response to God? Good communication is only important if it serves to build up the Kingdom--the Kingdom within ourselves and the Kingdom among ourselves, that "Sacred Space" within which we make the spiritual journey. I. What Are Some of the Ways People May Respond to Communica-tion? Communication can be greeted in a number of ways including: with suspicion or paranoia, with unrealistic expectations, or with hope and chal-lenge. Understanding a bit about each of these types of responses is help-ful when preparing for or involved in communicating with others. Suspicion or Paranoia: Alan Paton once said that some persons "fear social change more than they fear God." Communication often leads to change, and in the institutional Church there sometimes is a sense of suspicion or even paranoia about where the current movements will lead. Nowhere is this more evident than with respect to the move-ment toward full partnership on the part of women. Quite honestly, al-though the suspicion and paranoia are not warranted if we have real trust in the Lord and are healthy psychologically, there is still a reality aspect to the whole issue which is senseless to bury or deny. Communication, real communication--which has at its heart the burning desire for inclu-siveness- is a Trojan horse in the institutional Church today. Inside the horse is true Christian equality--something that will, as it develops and grows, bring with it confusion and concern, just as Christ did in his times to his religious structure. So, although we really must not turn back and hide ourselves behind former types of organizational breakdowns (to do so, I think, would be a futile and sinful exercise in misplaced nostalgia for past structures), th.e question we must not hide through Christian de-nial or behind "chronic niceness" is whether, in envisioning unity, we are also prepared to face many systemic questions which may shake us as a body to the core? Unrealistic Expectations: Among the unrealistic expectations of com-munications we sometime~ hold on to are that good communications will almost always produce comfortable agreement, or somehow if it is done 324 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 correctly will always be pleasant. Agreement does not occur all of the time; this is natural. However, some people erroneously believe that if there is not agreement, it means the communications involved are not good. This is false because there could be a meeting of the minds but the minds may not agree. This is an important point to realize in the Church today. The Church takes time to change; those who have had time to see the institutional manifestations of the Church around the world and have reviewed Church history know that the structures often take time to catch up to the reality of the movement of the Spirit in the People of God. So, while communications and respect between clergy and religious women must be at the top of our agenda, to expect that this will lead to immediate change of certain laws, traditions, and systems is to court unnecessary frustration. Another unrealistic expectation is to expect that if communications are good the results will be pleasant. This is obviously also not true. To see injustice-~either in our own behavior or others--is certainly not a joy. As a matter of fact, good communication may bring us closer-- truth has a special power to do this--but we may not feel it because the issues that divide us may become clearer and we may feel more alien-ated because we are starting to honestly confront them. Using the terminology of Merton, in communications our "true selves" may well see each other and be attracted but at the same time our "false selves" will probably turn and run for their lives! For in-stance, let us take the case of a clergyman who is a firstborn male with an eastern European background. For him to have to face as a result of communication the possibility that he has been acculturated to see him-self as the "worthy one," someone to be waited on hand-and-foot, and that he must somehow in the Spirit of the servant Jesus move away from this learned style is not going to be easy. Likewise, for a religious woman to own the fact that she has been displacing some anger she rightly feels about injustice in the Church onto a particular priest who has not shown any evidence of sexism but has happened to be nearby when she was feeling her justified frustration is also not pleasant. Hope and Challenge: However, thankfully, communication can also be greeted in a positive way. It can be greeted with a sense of hope and challenge; and that is the attitude we must all seek to "put on" as we would seek to put on Christ. Yet this positive Christlike attitude does not deny that communication takes effort, is easily affected, and often gets distorted because of past experiences. Effective, Nondefensive Communication / 325 Gestures never substitute for actions; this all of us probably would admit to knowing. Yet one of the burdens of the human condition is that we often make a gesture when we think we are taking an action. This is especially so in communication. Real communication requires that agen-das be cleared. We must risk speaking our minds and our hearts, but often we shy away from this because we can lose face, uncover unpleas-ant anxieties, or lose our position in the relationship (even though this position is a matter of self-protection rather than of Christian friendship). The "bottom line" then is that, even with a sense of hope and challenge, good communication takes real effort. II. Who Is Receiving the Message? Age, socio-economic background, race/ethnic origin, intelligence, and any number of other determinants will affect how our message is re-ceived. This is especially important in terms of personality and sociali-zation as a result of gender. With respect to personality and communication, given the focus of this paper, the specific factors which we will treat here are domination and avoidance. Domination: Some people have a great fear of being dominated or influenced while others are themselves dominators. In both cases, the per-son will receive communications in line with these personality determi-nants. Sometimes very bad past ministerial experiences will cause this kind of issue to be at the forefront. An example of this is the person in ministry who has been--in the name of "Christian service"--pulled into doing all kinds of work and has filled all kinds of inappropriate roles. He or she may then respond to communication in what I call a "pseudojustice" mode. Trying to communicate with such persons about involvement can be like pulling teeth because of their fear that their own space will be intruded upon as it has been in the past. With them you may feel exasperated and feel like yelling: "I'm not trying to control you. All I'm trying to do is to find out how you would like to serve as part of the team." The hidden agenda such people have and their past feeling of being dominated and forced into too many unwanted, possi-bly unsuitable roles need to surface and be dealt with so communication and involvement can proceed. On the other hand, for persons receiving the message who are them-selves dominators, the problem will be somewhat different. In this case they show constant concern that if they agree or open up they might lose necessary control of the situation. In communicating with them, the situ-ation is also frustrating because if you are not careful you may begin to 326/Review for Religious, May-June 1988 feel that you are in fact gUilty of trying to wrestle control or get away with something. To such persons, nevertheless, you must express the idea clearly and question their hesitation so that they can get in touch with the domination problem they are experiencing. (Th.e more uncon-scious the problem is, howex;er, the more defensive the person will be because of a lack of awareness about it and a resistance to looking at it on his or her part.) Avoidance: Avoidance of involvement with another person may be due to a number of reasons. When we are speaking about communica-tions between clergy and religious women, though, one of the primary concerns could be the fear of heterosexual intimacy. As we learn from the psychological literature (for example, Daniel Levinson: The Seasons of a Man's Life), this may especially be a problem with males because of a confusion between genital relationships and nongenital heterosexual relationships. In Levinson's words: A man may have a wide social network in which he has amicable, "friendly" relationships with many men and perhaps a few women. In general, however, most men do not have an intimate male friend of the kind that they recall fondly from boyhood or y.outh. Many men have had casual dating relationships with women, and perhaps a few complex love-sex relationships, but most men have not had an intimate nonsexual friendship with a woman. We need to understand why friendship is so rare, and what consequences this deprivation has for adult life (p. 335). For the religious woman, the case may be a failure to have had enough heterosexual opportunities herself to feel at ease in the situation; another reason could be a negative history early in life or in ministry (for example, steps at healthy intimacy either rebuffed or responded to in a genital way thus producing confusion, anger, or possibly unwarranted guilt). Now that we have looked at the above two elements in understand-ing whom we are communicating with--since the "who" very much de-termines how a message will be received, let us briefly look at the dif-ferences communication takes on from the socialization a person receives because of gender. Gender, along with the socialization and human development that oc-cur in line with it, is a very crucial variable in how someone receives communication. Carol Gilligan (In A Different Voice: Visions in Matur-ity, Harvard University Press, 1982), Robert Kegan (The Evolving Self, Harvard University Press, 1982), and Jean Miller (Toward a New Psy-chology of Women, Beacon, 1976) b.ave shown that recent studies on Effective, Nondefensive Communication women's psychological development characterize them as more open to, and interested in, affiliation than men. However, of more import is that these findings, rather than being evidence of regressive dependence, are reflective of a high level of development that should be integrated with (male-oriented) differentiation at each level of maturity. Joann Wolski Conn, in her work Women's Spirituality (Paulist, 1986), points to this: ¯ . . o.ne should notice the similarities between the Christian goal of un-ion with God demonstrated by loving care for all persons, and the ideal of human maturity promoted in essays by Miller, Gilligan, and Kegan. Gilligan rejects autonomy as the only appropriate goal for human ma-turity in moral decisions and presents instead a goal which equally val-ues relationships . [Kegan] explicitly intends to present a model which listens as carefully to women's experience as it does to men's. As a result, his model demonstrates how the qualities which have come to characterize men and women stereotypically--autonomy and relation-ship-- are the focus of life span tasks at every stage of everyone's de-velopment . Miller explains that autonomy as the goal of maturity is a carry-over from men's experience and implies that one should be able to give up affiliations in order to become separate and self-directed. Women seek more than autonomy as was defined for men; in-deed, they seek a fuller ability to encompass relationships simultane-ously with the fullest development of themselves. Too often women are misinterpreted or penalized for affirming to men a basic truth: every-one's individual development proceeds through affiliation as well as dif-ferentiation. And this development involves conflict which is an inevi-table fact of life and is not necessarily harmful (60, 61). The above is particularly relevant for us here because it is the devel-opment of the female "gender" (as opposed to biological sex), with its emphasis on affiliation,versus the male "gender," which focuses on sepa-ration, that determines whether communication will be sought to build up the Kingdom via an emphasis on relationships or via an attempt to foster "God's will" by furthering a truth or cause at the possible ex-pense of excluding intimacy in the process. ¯ This is not said to disparage men. Jesus in his communication mod-eled both the male and the female gender (that is, he stood for the truth but saw charity and relationship as the greatest law). On the other hand, in an effort to attain equality, it is equally possible for some women to mistake "machismo" for the masculine gender and seek aggressive power in their communication rather than an assertive appropriate de-fense of the truth that will in turn bring us together as brothers and sis- ~i98 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 ters. Consequently, gender is an important issue when reflecting on the person with whom we are trying to communicate. III. Effective Communications as an Element of Overall Transforma-tion Changes in one's attitude and approach to life are areas in which thera-pists have had a long-standing interest. Because of this they are aware of the resistance to change that people have-~even when there is an ex-pressed conscious desire to progress. One way of dealing with such re-sistance, bad habits, or unwanted yet seemingly ingrained negative pat-terns is to address one or all of the following: behavior, cognition, af-fect, and imagery. (I am indebted in this section to my colleague Rich-ard Parsons for his model for therapeutic intervention based on the first three of the factors just listed.) This information is important with respect to what we have already discussed because unless communication is seen as an element of one's overall need to be transformed in approaching God, it will not be suffi-ciently integrated into one's life to have significant impact on one's daily outlook. For instance, when a depressed person comes in for treatment, the problem during the course of therapy can be dealt with in each of the ar-eas listed above; the following is a sample: Behavior: The person is helped to develop a strategy to get out of bed and move about since activity and depression do not coexist well to-gether. Cognition: The person is assisted in recognizing negative thinking, seeing the link between it and depression, and learning how to correct for this thinking as a way of dealing ultimately with a negative belief sys-tem. Affect (emotions): The person is encouraged to express negative emo-tion (anger) so it is not directed against the self in a destructive fashion. Imagery: The person is given exercises in positive imagery as a means of correcting the inordinate negative images that the person fre-quently has and erroneously believes. In this way, the person is able to enter upon a process of self-reeducation, in terms of which, rather than behaving, perceiving, feel-ing, and imaging negatively, he or she realistically and positively takes greater and greater hold. In our openness to grace (using the above model including behav-ior, cognition, affect, and imagery), similar moves must be taken with respect to.ensuring the presence and growth of effective, nondefensive Effective, Nondefensive Communication communication between clergy and religious women. As a way of en-suring this, in each of the four categories, a series of sample questions is offered. They are not so much a comprehensive list as a way of ap-proaching what we have covered in this paper on a broader scale. How they are addressed initially and every day will help determine how the clergy and religious women feel about and act upon their stated desire to open up clear lines of communication between them--regarding, that is, what they do, perceive, affectively experience, and envision. Since emotions are hard to impact directly (except with drug therapy or via ex-ercises in catharsis--that is, ventilating emotions when relating an event to a friend so that the emotions do not come out in an inordinate way in an encounter with someone else), the three we will focus on in terms of a listing of reflective questions are: behavior, cognition, and imagery. (Naturally, there will be some overlap between categories.) Behavior: 1. When someone treats me with disrespect/anger, do I inquire about it or do I withdraw and absorb the negativity or retaliate against the per-son? (Am I able to say: "You seem angry. Is it me that you are angry with or someone/thing else?") 2. Do I time sensitive interactions correctly, or do I bring up things at a time when the person will feel on the spot, rushed, or unable to re-spond? (The "attack-in-the-open" or "hit-on-the-run" techniques.) 3. Do I let other people's behavior (defensive, angry, rigid.) de-termine (excuse) a like negative response on my part? 4. When I have a confrontation, do I employ empathy and respect? 5. Do I group people (sexes, roles . . .) together, or do I take the trouble to appreciate each person individually? 6. Do I treat my partner in ministry like a child or parent or assume one of these roles myself in communication? 7. Do I demand that people agree or have a constantly pleasant de-meanor as a price of interacting with me? 8. When I communicate, am I trying to be myself, or am I trying to project an image so as to keep people controlled, at a distance, or in awe of me? 9. Do I hide behind the rules--be they correct or not--as a way of ending a conversation or cutting off a person's desire to brainstorm or be an adult with me? 10. Do I give in--in the name of "charity"--because I want to be liked? 330 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 11. Am I difficult to deal with and .overly exacting about a job de-scription- not merely to ensure justice is done, but as displaced revenge for past injustices, hurts, or inordinate demands? In other words, am I willing to be assertive enough to set limits for people when I am being asked to do things I should not do, and, on the other hand, am I gener-ous enough to go the extra mile when it is called for rather than hide be-hind a "union-type" contract which may destroy ministerial morale? (This question is material for an article in itself, given the undeclared psy-chological war that is often taking place between some manipulative, con-trolling, dominant ministers in the Church and the obsessive-compulsive persons who report to them.) 12. Do I use emotional words or parental actions (pedantic tones, sar-o casm . . .) as a way of controlling or attacking other persons? 13. Do I use indirect or passive aggressive/dependent behavior as a way of getting back at someone because I cannot or will not face my own anxiety about being directly assertive? 14. Do I catch myself when I am not taking someone seriously or am making a premature judgment about him or her? 15. Do I tie people up in specifics, rules, or implications rather than allowing them to share their hopes, ideals, and visions with me? 16. Do I look for defensiveness in the other person as a help to moni-tor how I am presenting my view? (Am I using evaluative rather than de-scriptive language, which then sets the other person up to respond nega-tively?) 17. Am I being specific and recent, rather than vague, general, or historical? That is, am I dragging in what I perceive to be the person's whole negative history with me? 18. Am I falling into the trap of employing a communication de-stroyer such as: ordering, directing, commanding, warning, admonish-ing, threatening, exhorting, moralizing, preaching, lecturing, giving so-lutions, .judging, criticizing, blaming, flattering, name-calling, shaming, withdrawing, humoring, or diverting? i9. Am I acting the way I am because of the person's "church cre-dentials" or because of who they are as persons . . . my brothers and sisters in Christ? 20. Am I giving other persons enough distance, or am I moving ahead in the communication and relationship because of my own needs, my own sense of where relationships should be after a given period of time? Effective, Nondefensive Communication 21. Am I able to not "take the whole stage" or "hide behind the curtain" but instead find an appropriate verbal place in the communica-tion? 22. Am I self-disclosing enough without inappropriately or too rap-idly overwhelming the other person with my personal life? 23. Do I use anger, pouting, tears, tantrums, or seduction to get my way? 24. Do I look for the other person's point in communication so it re-ally can become a two-way process of exchanging information? 25. Am I looking for those signs in myself which would help me see when in my interactions and thoughts I may be setting myself up for un-necessary failure? (Do I expect that the reality of the diocese or present partner in ministry will meet my ideals and, when it does not, see it as a total failure?) Cognition: I. Do I try to be as clear as possible in the way I express myself--in other words, do I try to look at all my motivations and agendas? 2. Do I catch myself when I feel either angry, anxious, or guilty so I can try to understand the source of it rather than merely blaming my-self or someone else? 3. Am I sensitive to the times I personalize things? For instance, do I quickly take the blame for some external negative event that I was not primarily responsible for and as a result feel unnecessarily angry/guilty? 4. Do I hold on to the biblical quotation "Be not afraid" at a real belief/trust level to the extent that I can move forward in communica-tion even during those times when I feel pain, rejection, threat, or panic? 5. In my communication of the expectations I have of people, am I presenting them in a way which puts them on the spot, or do I really try to call them to be all they can be without embarrassing them because they are where they are? 6. Do I predict failure or put the other person down in my mind even before the communication has had time to develop? 7. Do I pick up my feelings of annoyance or frustration and catch the underlying thought which is causing it and thus avoid lessening my motivation to continue the communication and work through the prob-lem? 8. Do I fearlessly try to separate my motivations and agendas so I can see what mature/immature elements are involved in my thinking when I prepare for an important discussion, confrontation, or meeting? 332 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 9. When I am at an intimate level with a person, am I checking all the thoughts going through my mind---even the negative or unrealistic ones--as a way of picking up my unfulfilled preconscious desires or needs so they do not interfere with the communication or lead me to act out some immature behavior that would be detrimental to the relation-ship? I0. Am I thinking that, if this person does not like me, it means am not likable in general? Or do I believe that when I am on a ministry team everyone must get along equally well? 1 i. Do I see disagreement as tantamount to disloyalty or start to be-lieve such an attitude if I am given that message by the person with whom I am communicating? 12. Am I willing and able to recall past supportive adult situations I have had with other partners in ministry so I do not generalize when I have a bad experience in the present? Imagery: 1. Am I imaging myself as an assertive sister/brother of Christ, or do I perceive a non-Christlike negative image of myself? 2. Am I truly imaging the opposite sex as being in the image of God? (Am I able to image her/him as being my superior even if I am now her/ his superior in the apostolate?) 3. Do I image myself as loved so I can behave as a healthy person rather than a "good/nice" person who retreats, placates, etc., because of a desperate need for acceptance? 4. Do I try to cut through all of the past culturally determined im-ages I have had of the Lord in order to reenvision the masculinity (as op-posed to the "machismo," power, superiority . . .) of Christ, and am I also able to see Jesus as mother? Or, do I really believe this area is silly and avoid it? 5. Do I take the "Abba" image of God as my guide and meditate on it as an assertive yet tender role model? Or do I still have a "superego-oriented," patriarchal image of God? These are just some of the questions that must be faced with respect to behavior, cognition, and imagery if communication is to change and become effective, if our attitude is to be truly transformed. Epilogue Abraham Heschel once said: [A person's] plight is not due to the fear of nonbeing, to the fear of death, but to the fear of living . The fear of living arises most corn- Effective, Nondefensive Communication monly out of the experiences of failure or insult, or having gone astray or having been rebuffed. It is rooted in the encounter with other human beings, in not knowing how to be with other beings, in the inability or refusal to communicate, but above all in the failure to live in complete involvement with what transcends bur living. I think that, in discussing effective, nondefensive communication be-tween clergy and religious women and in looking at our behavior, cog-nition, and imagery, we are being asked whether we will fear living or whether we will live in complete involvement. We are being asked whether we will follow "Holy Mother the institutional Church" in such a strict way that we are not open to "Holy Mother our God" to the ex-tent that we allow her to carry us where she will. The questions being asked here, then, are not easy ones. Neither are the answers so immediate and accessible. Psychology can help, and we should employ it wherever we can. But, in the last analysis, it is prayer and spirituality that will turn the tide. James Fenhagen said at one point in his book Invitation to Holiness (Harper & Row, 1985, p. 57): "People live cautiously because they pray cautiously." I think this is so, and I think St. Peter felt it when he was confronted at Rome's gate after being asked the question: "Quo vadis?" Accordingly, I wonder, in this whole issue of communications and rela-tionships between clergy and religious women (as might also possibly be the case with respect to the modern movement toward a lay-centered Church), whether it would be too dramatic for us to see that the whole Church is at the gate being questioned again by the Lord as to our cour-age, fortitude, and faith? I wonder. I wonder. Leading People into Prayer Paul Wachdorf Father Wachdorf, a priest of the Archdiocese of Chicago, is an associate dean of for-mation and a spiritual director at Mundelein Seminary. His address is: University of Saint Mary of the Lake; Mundelein, Illinois 60060. For the past six years I have served as a spiritual director for the theologi-ans at Mundelein Seminary, the graduate school of theology of the Arch-diocese of Chicago. An increasing number of our incoming students have never been in a seminary. Frequently their knowledge of the history and teachings of the Church and of the various prayer traditions of the Church is at a very basic level. Some come with no prayer life at all. For others, their experience of prayer is limited to saying prayers, occasionally read-ing from the Bible, or talking to God. One of the challenges I have faced as a director in working with these students is to lead them into a deeper experience of prayer. Out of my experience of the last six years, I would like to share some of the insights and practical wisdom that I have found helpful in work-ing with these students. Although I have worked primarily with semi-nary students, I believe that what I have to say can be helpful to anyone working with beginners in prayer: spiritual directors, RCIA facilitators, pastoral-care ministers, homilists, prayer-group leaders, and many oth-ers. It is very important to be aware of the special issues and concerns that beginners in prayer face as they seek to come before God. The Foundational Conviction The most important insight that I have come to is this: God leads peo-ple into prayer. Through God's own invitations, people come to prayer in their own good time and way. As a director I can invite people to a life of prayer. I can walk with them in their attempts to pray. I can help 334 Leading People into Prayer / 335 to facilitate their movement into prayer. But I cannot make them pray, and I cannot control the movement or the experience of God in their prayer. As a director I have had to face my own impatience and desire to have someone become a person of prayer overnight. I have come to see that there are many starts and stops; but, over time, people are given the gift of prayer. Prayer cannot be forced. It is a conversion experience. When people come to experience firsthand the power of God at work in their lives and prayer, then prayer becomes something that they want to do and not something I expect them to do or something they are obli-gated to do by the Church. Until this happens for them, I try as much as possible to affirm their fledgling efforts to pray and to be understand-ing and accepting of them in their failures, their discouragement, and their resistances as they attempt to pray. Beginning by Doing When I meet.with prospective spiritual directees, I tell them that one expectation I have of them is that they commit themselves to developing a regular prayer life. Furthermore, within the context of spiritual direc-tion, I want them to talk about what happens to them when they do pray. I also tell them that I am not going to dictate to them how, when, or how often they should pray, nor am I going to scold them in their failures or difficulties with prayer. I am not indifferent about their prayer life. Within the framework of God's gift and their freedom, I try to be an accountability factor. What is a value to me, I want to be a value for them. In addition, I tell them that their commitment to prayer insures that what we do within the con-text of spiritual direction becomes more than just guidance and counsel-ing. Some of those I direct have told me that my invitation to prayer has been an important stimulus in their attempts to develop their own prayer life. In Solidarity and With Support At Mundelein Seminary, the full-time members of the formation team commit themselves to an hour of personal prayer every morning in our house chapel. We invite the students to join us in our time of prayer, and many of them do. In this hour of quiet time with God, there is a soli-darity that develops among us. Many of our students have said that this daily commitment of the formation team to prayer has been an impor-tant witness and invitation to them in their own prayer life. 33t5 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 Related to this, on occasion I have invited a student I am directing to join me for this time of quiet prayer. We have used a common prayer form or passage from Scripture as the basis of our prayer. Afterwards we spent some time talking about what we experienced in our prayer. Within the context of direction, I try to share on a limited basis, and when-ever I feel it is appropriate, some of the content of my own prayer life and what happens to me when I pray. These two things have helped some of my beginners in prayer to come to an experiential insight into what can happen when they open themselves up to God in prayer and to understand what prayer in gen-eral and what specific prayer forms can be like for them. The Spiritual Dialogue About Prayer When I first meet with new spiritual directees, I ask them to spend some time telling me their life history. Among other things, I ask them to tell me about their prayer life and their experiences and images of God. In particular, I ask them if they have ever had what they consider to be a religious experience or a powerful experience of God at work in their lives. What I have found is not only that many of those I direct have had such experiences but also that these experiences have played an impor-tant part in their own vocational discernment and their understanding of God. I have also found that people feel very shy or embarrassed about hav-ing had such an experience, have never told anyone about it before, and have a difficult time articulating just what the experience was like. As a director I find that it is very important for me to listen carefully to what they have to say, to reassure them that they are not weird or crazy, to invite them to explore further what they have experienced, and to give them permission to talk about such experiences as they might occur in the future. During the course of direction, I ask people to talk about their prayer life in terms of consistency, method, content, and inner feelings associ-ated with praying. Initially they find this difficult since they frequently lack the language to talk about what happens interiorly when they pray. Very often they have not developed the ability to sit quietly for any ex-tended period of time, to notice what they are feeling, and to distinguish the difference between distractions and movements of God. As we begin, I encourage people to talk about whatever they thought or felt or experienced in their prayer, whether they considered it to be significant or not. I find it important for me to move slowly and to be Leading People into Prayer patient with their attempts not only to pray but also to notice and talk about their experience of prayer. I also find that I need to be sensitive to their desire to please me, to do well in their prayer, or to have some-thing significant to say. I need to reassure them that whatever happens in their attempts to pray is fine with me and is pleasing to God. Related to these considerations is another question we examine early on: For whom is prayer intended? Is it primarily for my benefit, for what I get out of it? Or is it primarily for God? If prayer is just for my benefit and if nothing seems to be happening, I will feel it is a waste of time and will be tempted to give it up. On the other hand, if prayer is for God, it does not make any differ-ence if anything "productive" seems to be happening. Even if it feels like a waste of time to me, I am praying because I am giving my time to God in a way that says that my relationship with God is primary. The fact that I am consistently present to God in my prayer is initially far more important than what ! do or what happens when I pray. When peo-ple come to a different understanding of what prayer is and for whom it is intended, they relax and are more open as they approach prayer. Resistances, Difficulties, and Dryness Beginners in prayer are usually eager and enthusiastic as they begin to develop and deepen their prayer lives and to experiment with new prayer forms. They may experience in new and surprising ways the power of God at work in their prayer. As time passes, however, and they run into resistances, difficulties, and dryness in their prayer, they may become discouraged and disheart-ened with their prayer life. They may feel as if God has abandoned them. It is important to help them understand the dynamics of what is going on in their prayer. A list of some of the common difficulties that tend to make prayer difficult for beginners follows: a) Called to a Different Prayer Frequently the difficulties encountered by beginners in prayer are con-nected to being called by God to a different way of praying, to a deeper level of prayer. Although this is true for all pray-ers, it is especially true for beginners. My experience with beginners in prayer is that they soon discover that the ways of prayer taught them as children and carried with them into adolescence and young adulthood are no longer satisfying to them. It is important to let them explore their dissatisfactions and new yearn-ings and to help them see that perhaps God is calling them to a differ- Review for Religious, May-June 1988 ent, deeper way of praying. b) Wondering What to Do Exploring different ways of praying, however, often brings begin-ners to another difficulty: They do not know how to begin or what to do in their time of prayer. They are intimidated by silence and fear that noth-ing is going to happen or that they will be plagued by distractions. When they are unfocused as they come to prayer, when they have no sense of how to open themselves up to God so that God can enter into their lives, prayer will be extremely difficult for them. I find it is important to explore with beginners what prayer is, what attitudes to bring to prayer, how to interpret and deal with distractions, and what prayer techniques may suit them and open them up to God. If they know their Myers-Briggs type indicator, I offer to go over with them some of the research that has been done on prayer and tem-perament. One resource I would suggest is the book Prayer and Tem-perament by Chester Michael and Marie Norrisey (Charlottesville, Va. : The Open Door, 1984). The Myers-Briggs type indicator seems to be a limited but useful tool in helping people to understand how they ap-proach the world. This understanding can put them in touch with a fa-vored and a shadow side of prayer, an insight that can open them to a sense of God at work in their lives. c) Unworthiness Another difficulty beginners face is the feeling that they are not wor-thy to pray. More specifically, they feel unworthy to come before God, that they have nothing worthwhile to offer to God, and that .they are not worthy to receive anything from God in their time of prayer. These feel-ings are often connected with earlier lifestyles which now cause shame. Sometimes they are connected with images of God which portray God as a perfectionist or as a harsh, impersonal, unforgiving judge who pun-ishes wrongdoing. I find that it is important to let people freely explore their life histories, their images of God, and their own sense of unwor-thiness. d) Looking at All Facets of Life I encourage those I direct to get in touch with their feelings and to tell God in their prayer what they are feeling, thinking, and experienc-ing. This tends to bring into focus several related difficulties for begin-ners in prayer. Leading People into Prayer / 339 The first is their image of God as all-knowing. If God is all-knowing, why should they bother to express what God already knows? A second is that they are often not in touch with what they are feel-ing or with inner movements which might or might not be of God. They have never cultivated the reflective side of their lives. A third is that they are frequently suspicious of emotions, especially those they consider to be negative or sinful, such as anger, lust, or de-spair. They have a difficult time admitting to themselves that they have such emotions. And even when they do, how, for example, could they possibly express to God their angry feelings? Such feelings can be very threatening to them and can reinforce their sense of unworthiness before God. It is important to help beginners get in touch with their feelings and thoughts, to claim them in a non judgmental way, and to begin to express them to God in their prayer. As they do this, God is able to be with them as they are and as he wants to be with them. e) The Right Time and Place Difficulties in prayer can also be related to lifestyle and environment. A poor environment, such as the clutter of their rooms where there are many distractions, can make prayer difficult. I encourage beginners to explore various prayer environments to help them discover a place where they can be with God in peace. The time of day for prayer is important. "Morning" people or "night" people need to adjust prayer times according to their natural biological rhythms. I encourage people to find a time of day when they can give quality prayer time to God, a time of alertness and concentra-tion. The general rhythm of life affects prayer. A scattered life or a life out of balance will not help prayer. One needs a regular and rhythmic balance of work, play, and attending to relationships. I encourage peo-ple to examine their life patterns because a healthy life is related to healthy prayer. t') Consistent Commitment Inconsistency or not enough time given to prayer can make prayer difficult. The development of a healthy, loving, life-giving relationship between any two people requires that they spend sufficient, consistent, quality time together. Our relationship with God is no different. If God is to be present to us as God truly desires, we have to make time for this relationship to develop. It is important to explore with beginners the dis- ~140 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 cipline of consistent prayer. g) Wasting Time with God In the midst of the hectic pace of modern life, it is difficult to find time to pray. Often, for pragmatic, production-oriented Americans, prayer seems like a waste of time. People can always think of "better" ways to spend their time. The need that beginners have for productive prayer is one that needs to be carefully explored. I encourage them to see prayer as an opportunity to waste time gracefully with God. h) Dealing with Setbacks When people miss prayer for a day or two or three, they become dis-couraged. They may want to give up on prayer. My response is encour-agement. When they miss, they do not need to get upset or give up on prayer as a lost cause. I tell them to come back. Prayer is a decision that continually needs to be renewed. If they fall, they should simply get up and start over again. God, I believe, is not all that interested in how many times they have fallen. God is more interested in how many times they got back up and started over again. i) Desolation In his Rules for the Discernment of Spirits, Week I [322], St. Igna-tius suggests three important reasons why we suffer desolation or diffi-culty in prayer. David Fleming, S.J., in The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius: A Literal Translation and a Contemporary Reading (St. Louis: The Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1978, pp. 210-211), "reads" the text of St. Ignatius as follows: I. It is our own fault because we have not lived our life of faith with any effort. We have become tepid and slothful and our very shallow-ness in the spiritual life has brought about the experience of desolation; 2. it is a trial period allowed by God. We find ourselves tested as to whether we love God or just love his gifts, whether we continue to fol-low his call in darkness and dryness as well as in light and consolation; 3. it is a time when God lets us experience our own poverty and need. We see more clearly that the free gift of consolation is not something we can control, buy, or make our own. These Ignatian guidelines are geared for beginning Christians. When explained properly, they can be helpful in giving beginning pray-ers some insight into what might be happening in their prayer. Leading People into Prayer / 341 Prayer in Direction I invite those I direct to take time, if they are comfortable in doing so, to join me in prayer at the beginning and/or at the end of our ses-sions together. My/our prayer might be spontaneous or more formal. As we begin, the prayer is a simple petition inviting God to be a part of our time together and asking for the guidance of the Holy Spirit. As we end, the prayer might be a moment of thanksgiving or praise to God for the ways in which the Spirit works in our lives and in the process of spiri-tual direction. It is important not to force this. Beginners in prayer are not usually very comfortable praying out loud or spontaneously. At the same time, such prayer does sensitize beginning pray-ers to the importance of con-tinually inviting God to enter into their lives and of noticing and acknowl-edging the ways in which God can and does act in their lives. Conclusion My experience is that leading people to prayer is an art and not a sci-ence. There is no one textbook approach that works for everyone. Prayer is something very personal and unique. It is a special relationship that develops over time between God and the pray-er. People come to prayer in their own good time and way. As a spiritual director, I cannot make prayer happen; but I can help to facilitate this loving relationship. In work-ing with beginners in prayer, I do not apply the suggestions I have of-fered in this article in any structured or systematic way; but I have found that there are certain common themes and experiences that it is good for me as a spiritual director to be aware of as I seek to lead people under the influence and guidance of the Holy Spirit into a life of prayer. Marian Year: A Prolonged, Ardent Pentecost Gene Barrette, M.S. Father Barrette last wrote for us in the November/December 1987 issue. The pre-sent article has been adapted from a letter of his to the La Salette Missionaries, of whom he is the superior general. His address: Missionari di N. S. de la Salette; Pi-z, zza Madonna della Salette, 3; 00152 Roma, Italy. I'leturning to Rome from Argentina on June 6, 1987, after nearly twenty-four hours of travel, I was only hazily aware of the events of that day. I noticed some members of my community in front of the TV joining the Holy Father as he prayed the rosary at St. Mary Major's Basilica. A Veri-table prayer chain around the world was formed as simultaneous trans-mission linked groups of the faithful praying in some of the major Marian shrines on five continents. Later in the evening a group from the house went to the Pentecost vigil celebrated in St. Peter's Square, a ceremony full of splendor and evocative images of fire and flowers. These were festivities marking the pope's official opening of the second Marian Year in the history of the Church. This special year, which will close on the feast of the Assumption, 1988, was launched with media fanfare, receiv-ing extensive TV and newspaper coverage here in Rome for a couple of days. And yet, I must humbly admit, in my own jet-lagged heart I felt little excitement or response. In fact, when the Marian Year was first announced, a little demon voice in me had muttered: "What is this man doing? Here the world is facing enormous problems: war, possible nuclear annihilation, the col-lapse of social structures, massive oppression and injustices, and moral confusion; and what does he hold out to the world? A Marian Year!" My 342 Marian Year / 343 initial reaction was not only less than enthusiastic, it was even slightly embarrassed. How shallow that reaction was! For what has Pope John Paul done? I believe he has done something very prophetic, prophetic in the same sense that La Salette is so pro-phetic. At La Salette Mary described a world suffering from famine, dis-ease, and turmoil. And yet what did she propose as a solution? Prayer, attendance at Mass, fasting--in a word, conversion. She proposed solu-tions that in the eyes of the world certainly could only appear "foolish." And so too, perhaps in the eyes of the world or, even worse, in our own worldly eyes, the pope's proclamation of a Marian Year as an important way to prepare for the Third Millennium may seem foolish. But it is the kind of foolishness that in the eyes of God is, in fact, wisdom. In proclaiming a Marian Year, the pope is saying to all of us: "Be-hold your mother!" Yes, this is a year that can help us behold and relate to this maternal reality which is life-giving and life-nurturing; and the life that Mary gives and nurtures is precisely the Christ-life so desper-ately needed in the famine of our days. Yes, behold our mother; behold the woman who is our privileged doorway to Christ, Christ who in fact is the only true answer to the fragmentations, oppressions, and forces of nonlife and darkness threatening our today and shadowing our tomorrow. Any word or act that leads us to this heart of our reality is prophetic. Bringing Mary Out Of Eclipse It is no e×aggeration to say that Marian devotion suffered a diminu-tion during the past twenty-five years or so. Some blame the Vatican Council, others hold theologians at fault. And yet no council has ever spoken so beautifully of Mary as does Lumen Gentium, nos. 52-69. Promi-nent theologians such as Karl Rahner, Schillebeeckx, and even the non- Catholic Max Thurian have written exquisitely on Mary. Bishops' con-ferences have issued pastoral letters on Mary, such as the American bish-ops' beautiful letter Behold Your Mother. The eclipse came as an over-reaction to excesses that at times existed in some Marian devotions; the eclipse also came because our attention was focused on other essential aspects of our Christian, ecclesial life. But Mary is so integral a part of the fabric of our faith that she can-not remain in eclipse. In fact, in Argentina Cardinal Primatesta, in a con-ference to the members of the Council of the Congregation, went on at great length to emphasize that it is Marian devotion that has preserved the Christian faith of the Latin American people over the centuries. This great gift cannot remain in eclipse. :344/Review for Religious, May-June 1988 Through the Marian Year, Pope John Paul wants to put dramatically before our eyes and our hearts this life-giving reality that is Mary, Mother of Christ, Mother of the Church; your mother and mine. We are not dealing with pious images or metaphors nor with devotional projec-tions; we are dealing with a reality present to us. Do we recognize this presence? Is it vital for us? Permit me to use an analogy to help me get my point across. Walk outside and look up into the air. Do you hear music or voices and see images? Of course not. And yet that seemingly clear air is full of sounds and images. All you need is a radio or TV and click--you capture them. You hear the music and the voices, you see the pictures. All you need is the proper instrument, properly tuned and with a power source. It is the same thing with the presence of God, the Lord, the Spirit--and yes, of Mary. They are real presences. But unless we have our minds and hearts empowered by the Spirit, attuned in faith, then there is no way that we can be aware of these presences; no way that we can respond to them; no way that we can be touched and transformed by them. In a cer-tain sense the Marian Year is a "tuning time" for us; tuning in to the presence of Mary to her people. How sad it would be not to take advan-tage of this gift. This Spirit-inspired invitation of the Holy Father to give Mary her rightful place in our lives is not intended to lead us simply to a superfi-cial polishing-up of Marian devotion. It is actually a call to enter into the richness and the profound meaning of a Marian spirituality. As John Paul's recent encyclical Redemptoris Mater suggests, it is a question of seeing Mary not simply as part of our "doctrine of faith," but much more of Mary as part of our "life of faith." Mary is the prototype for our own stance before God and the world. Mary has led and continues to lead the way on our pilgrimage of faith. Recognizing that and actively drawing strength from that reality is one way of insuring that Mary will no longer live in a sort of eclipse. This is not the place for a treatise on the fundamentals of a Marian theology. I simply encourage you all to give Redemptoris Mater a prayer-ful, meditative reading. The encyclical, plus chapter VIII in Lumen Gen-tium, gives an excellent summary of Mariology. In these pages I simply want to point out some aspects of Mary that can touch our life of faith; points that may.be light and food for our own journey. Mary: Model for Our Pilgrimage of Faith A recurring phrase in the pope's encyclical is Mary's place in the "pilgrimage of faith" (6, 14, 25, and 26 especially). The whole image Marian Year / 345 of the pilgrimage of faith is a dynamic one capturing the movement, the evolution, the story of a people, of individuals. What is this "pilgrimage of faith" that the Church has lived out through space and time in her individual members? The pope says that its essential character is interior, a "question of a pilgrimage through faith, by the 'power of the Risen Lord,' a pilgrimage in the Holy Spirit" (RM 25). The essential element of this interior pilgrimage is the response that each person gives to the encounter with the Holy Spirit. The faith-response of yes-~offiat, a total "obedience of faith" to the Spirit invit-ing into God's plan-~creates a receptive space for the conception and birthing of Jesus. This pilgrimage of faith is of crucial importance not only because of what it accomplishes in the individual, but more because of what is accomplished through the individual: making Christ present in the world. And Mary, in a unique and special way, is present to and part of this ongoing pilgrimage. "Mary is present, as the one who is 'blessed be-cause she believed,' as the one who advanced on the pilgrimage of faith, sharing unlike any other creature in the mystery of Christ . Among all believers she is like a 'mirror' in which are reflected in the most pro-found and limpid way 'the mighty works of God' " (RM 25). Mary is the prototype and model for all faith-pilgrims. And what can we learn when we look at her response? We discover that "to believe means 'to abandon oneself' to the truth of the word of the living God ¯ . . accepting fully and with a ready heart everything that is decreed in the divine plan., a complete openness to the person of Christ, to his whole work, to his whole mission" (RM 14, 39). This total acceptance, this total giving oneself to God's plan, is evi-dent throughout Mary's life: in thefiat of the annunciation moment, in the journey to Bethlehem and the birth in such humble surroundings, in the flight to Egypt, in the "ponderings in her heart" during the early years, in the intercession at Cana, in the years of remaining in the back-ground during the preaching, teaching, and healing and on the fringe of the crowds adulating or condemning, at the foot of the cross, and then in the midst of the apostles for the empowering on Pentecost. Certainly it is not difficult to see in Mary the total gift of her person to serving the saving plan of the Father. Unique? Yes, Mary is. And yet we share in the same call, the same mission. As the American bishops stated in their pastoral letter: "Mary conceived in her heart with her whole being, before she conceived in her :346 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 womb. First came Mary's faith, then her motherhood. Faith is the key . All who truly follow Christ become 'mothers' of Christ, for by their faith they bring Him to birth" (Behold Your Mother, 71). This radical response of faith, as Cardinal Ratzinger effectively stated in a homily at St. Mary Major's on June 10, 1987, shows that Mary is "above all the sign of the fecundity of faith in history." The fecundity of faith is that it brought forth Life itself, which is Jesus. Je-sus is God's supreme entrance into history. It is in Jesus that God once and for all puts history on the road of salvation, of liberation, of com-pletion. Jesus is the ever present Life that transforms history. What bet-ter way, therefore, to move towards the third millennium than to look at Mary, the supreme example and model of the power of faith to bring Jesus into the world? The Marian Year is an invitation to do this. Mary: A Maternal Presence Mary is model for our pilgrimage of faith, but she is more. She is an accompanying maternal presence--guiding, interceding, helping with the sensitivity that only a mother can have. And that is also a reality-- she is truly a mother to each of as. Mary as mother of the human race, again, is not just poetry. It is clearly stated and established at the foot of the cross. "Woman, behold your son. Son, behold your mother." Mary as model is a great gift of the Father to us; but even more, Mary as mother is the great gift of the Father and the Son to us. Again, in the words of Pope John Paul, "Mary's motherhood which becomes man's inheritance is a gift; a gift which Christ himself makes personally to every individual . Of the essence of motherhood is the fact that it concerns the person. Motherhood always establishes a unique and unrepeatable relationship between two people: between mother and child and between child and mother" (RM 45). Mary is not "out there" somewhere; she is intimately linked with you and me, whether we pay attention to that link or not. This relationship is part of our reality. Turning and relating to Mary as our mother is not an appeal to senti-mentalism. Rather it is turning to a source of life. Again Cardinal Ratz-inger had a beautiful and suggestive image in his homily: "If the Church in its everyday life does not want to be reduced merely to an arid institu-tion or to an activism that burns itself out, it must look to Mary. Life can grow and develop only under the warmth of a maternal heart." It is there under the warmth of the mother's heart that life first begins and grows in the womb; and it is in the light and warmth of the love of a mother's heart that life continues to grow and be strengthened and made whole years and years after leaving the womb. This immense maternal Marian Year / 347 love Mary has for us has a transforming power. Why do we hesitate or simply neglect to reach out for and seize this maternal love? It may be just the thing that many of us and our people need to turn our lives around and become spaces open to the Spirit and be Christ-bearers. The picture of Mary as our mother certainly is central in Mary's ap-parition at La Salette. She began with the words "Come near, my chil-dren . . . I have great news to tell you." In these very opening words there is already great news: the news that we are her children, and there-fore she is our mother. While Cardinal of Cracow, the Holy Father gave a very insightful observation on the motherhood of Mary during a homily he preached on the occasion of the seventy-fifth anniversary of the presence of the La Salette Missionaries in Poland. Speaking of Mary as mother of the hu-man family, mother of the Church, he said, "We know well that a mother who loves cries more than once . . . and if among the Church-approved private apparitions of Mary there was lacking this Mary in tears, our image of maternal love would somehow be incomplete. The mother who loves, sometimes weeps. Even more when a grave danger menaces her child . Her maternal tears are a special proof of love, necessary for humanity, necessary for our people today." How often do we ourselves draw near to those tears of love? How often do we lead our people to those tears of love? ¯ The tears that Mary's love produces are shed in response to our own pain, our own suffering, our own danger, our own brokenness, our own sinfulness. Towards the end of Redemptoris Mater (51-52), the Holy Fa-ther refers to the lines from one of the Marian hymns after compline: "Loving mother of the Redeemer, gate of heaven, star of the sea, assist your people who have fallen, yet strive to rise again." He speaks of the great advances of recent times in human history. And yet, throughout the marvels of our journey in time and space with all the transformations we have witnessed, there remains a fundamental transformation, and that is the ongoing transformation from falling to rising, from death to life. As the Holy Father points out, "the Church sees Mary maternally present and sharing in the many complicated problems which today beset the lives of individuals, families, and nations, and she sees her helping the Christian people in the constant struggle between good and evil, to en-sure that it does not fall or, if it has fallen, that it rises again." This should resonate in each of us if we are sensitive to our own pil-grimage of faith with its rhythms of falling and rising, with its experi-ence of our fragilities and infidelities, with our failings and beginnings 341~/Review for Religious, May-June 1988 anew. Such is our experience as individuals; such is our experience as a community, as a congregation, as a Church, as God's people. Mary's appeal at La Salette certainly relates to our need for conver-sion. (Is the same thing perhaps happening today at Medjugorje?) Yet why do we shy away from this gift offered to us? Why are we so often indifferent, blas6 about these obvious signs of maternal love rushing to us, children in danger, children in pain, children needing help? Is it that we feel that we are big boys now, grown up, ~tnd therefore no longer need-ing this consolation, this warmth, this encouragement, this drying of our own tears, and this loving embrace that helps us believe in our own good-ness and the Spirit's action sending us onwards in new beginnings again and again? The Marian Year can be the privileged occasion for us to re-discover this great gift if we have been neglecting it, or to deepen our love for it if we have not forgotten it. Mary: Continued Presence in Mission to Us Mary, model for us on the pilgrimage of faith; Mary, continued pres-ence as mother. Let us now look at Mary and her own mission, which continues today. As Redemptoris Mater (21) reminds us, Mary's own sense of mis-sion began to be felt at Cana. There we see Mary's solicitude, her com-ing to people in the wide variety of their wants and needs. This solici-tude has certainly been manifested during this last century and a half in her apparitions, especially at La Salette, where her caring wrung tears from her heart. Mary's mission has a twofold movement. She comes to the aid of human needs, but this means that she brings those needs within the ra-dius of Christ's salvific power, as she shows at Cana. At La Salette this is seen in the image we have of the two children, representing our bro-kenness and neediness, being drawn into the radiance that streamed from the crucifix, the ultimate symbol of Christ's saving love. "Thus there is a mediation: Mary places herself between her son and mankind in the reality of their wants, needs, and sufferings . Her mediation is in the nature of intercession: Mary intercedes for mankind" (RM 21), a truth echoing Mary's own words at La Salette, "How long a time have I suf-fered for you . " Lumen Gentium (62) described this same reality: "Taken up to heaven, she did not lay aside this saving role, but by her manifold acts of intercession continues to win for us gifts of eternal sal-vation." This mediation, this mission, this divine pastoral, we might say, continues in the history of the Church and the world. Marian Year / 349 Karl Rahner describes Mary's life as "the archetypal apostolic event . What the apostolate is can be read from her and what she did; she is a productive pattern for the apostolate, not a mere ideal instance of its abstract essence" ("Mary and the Apostolate," Mission and Grace, vol. 1, p. 181). He then outlines some of the characteristics ob-servable in Mary's apostolate. They can serve for reflection on our own apostolate during this Marian Year. In the apostolate of Mary: a) There is a consciousness of its being a mission given from above. (How vivid is this conviction for our own life and ministry?) b) She shows a capacity to wait for the right moment, to know that the mission is to be fulfilled in God's time and manner. (Does not much of our own discouragement at times come from relying too exclusively on our own power, our own schedule, our own programs?) c) There is self-withdrawal behind the person she serves; most of her life is hidden, it is Christ who is brought to the fore. d) There is loyal perseverance. Mary did not merely say yes once, in one great moment. She sustained that yes patiently, silently, con-stantly in the serene assurance of the true believer, in the mature sim-plicity of real greatness, throughout a whole lifetime. (How strongly do we strive for this in our age of easily abandoned commitments? How con-scious are we of deepening this yes every day?) e) There is the cross, a heart stabbed through with the sword of suf-fering together with her Son; there is even the noncomprehension of the decrees of God and of the actions of the Lord himself whom she served. It is an apostolate of hope against hope, of faith before victory is won, of a venture whose reward is not paid in advance, of a loyalty that gives all. (To what extent can we find this spirit of sacrifice, of trust, during our darkest and driest moments in our own lives?) These are foundations for a ~olid Marian spirituality inserted into the very fabric of our apostolic call and going way beyond simple devotion. Yes, Mary is there for us as model for our apostolate. But even more, she is there as a source of the help that we need. Not help with this or that small favor, but help for our deepest need--help in being effective Christ-bearers. Mary's Magnificat Finally, Mary serves as a powerful example and model of the capac-ity to recognize what God has done and is doing in our lives. Her Mag-nificat is precisely this: Mary's personal experience of God's action in herself and in her people. This consciousness compels her to break out 350 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 into simple and wholly inspired praise, boldly proclaiming the undimmed truth about God, who "has done great things" in her as well as in the whole universe (RM 37). Mary was truly attuned to what God was accomplishing. Could we not write our own Magnificat---on a personal level and on a community level? I recall how touched I was in Angola upon hearing of a mission community having its yearly meeting with its satellite communities. The celebration began with the recounting of their history: how the commu-nity had started, the first ones involved, the failure of the first commu-nity, the second effort, the people involved, the priests who served them. And this was not simply read, but was corrected and added to by the mem-bers themselves. They were recounting the Lord's deeds, the great things he had done for them. And in this regular exercise they were keeping this reality vividly before them. What a beautiful way to attune one's heart and mind to the reality to which we can so often become blinded! The Magnificat is also used extensively as a solid Marian light which makes us vividly aware of God's love of preference for the poor, the hum-ble, and how this is intimately connected with the Christian meaning of freedom and liberation--of redemption. Here again Mary has her place. She can serve as an inspiration in this aspect of the Christian mission be-cause, as stated in the Instruction on Christian Freedom and Liberation published in 1986, "Mary is totally dependent upon God and completely directed towards him, and at the side of her Son she is the most perfect image of freedom and of the liberation of humanity and of the universe" (97). Mary helps us understand that the most radical source of true lib-eration of individuals and even structures is precisely this total surren-der or, as she reminds us at La Salette, this submission to God and his plan for us. Without a revolution of the heart, merely political and so-cial revolutions only lay the foundations for the.next revolution in an end-less chain of humanly oppressive and destructive revolts. Mary proclaims the great things that God does, but these are done for those "who fear him," those who not only are poor and lowly, but have surrendered to him. Mary calls, in a variety of ways, to this radical revolution, which is first and foremost conversion. There is much richness to. draw from here and in other truths about Mary, such as her role in the growing appreciation of the feminine as-pect of the divine presence and the Church. Mary truly offers a seem-ingly inexhaustible source of faith reflection. And again, the Marian Year is an invitation to do such reflection. Marian Year / 351 How Celebrate the Marian Year? Concretely, what are some of the things we can do to benefit from this year of grace? First of all, spend time with Mary. It is as plain and as simple as that. If we are not already doing so, we should make time for her in our day. Let us do like the apostle John and welcome Mary, take her into our own home. Let us bring her into everything that makes up our inner life; that is to say, let us take her into our human and Christian "I," as the pope beautifully expressed it (RM 45). This is the first step: profess our faith in Mary's great love and presence by simply spending time with her and opening our hearts, our lives, as wide as possible to her maternal love. Prayerfully read Redemptoris Mater and other texts on Mary. Again, do this to feed the heart more than the head. Avoid reading only the kinds of works that foster such a strong analytical, critical spirit that one ends up with slices and splices, theological abstractions about Mary, but not with a living presence. Read not to try to dispel the mystery that natu-rally accompanies any great truth of our faith, but read to encounter this mystery with ever greater love. Read and pray to move from professing to living a deep love for Mary, Mother of Christ and of the Church. If some of us have left the rosary aside, let us explore ways to begin to re-discover its possibilities for reflection, for rhythmic, simple centering on Jesus and Mary. If you have a good imagination, use it. St. Ignatius in his Spiritual Exercises does not neglect this tremendous power that we have. In re-cent. years we have easily dismissed using the imagination in prayer and meditation, often because of our climate of high intellectualization, often from a desire to quickly arrive at more advanced levels of prayer. My own suggestion is to try imaging as you spend time with Mary. The re-sults may surprise you. Visualize Mary with you in every situation of your life and of her life. Talk to her, let her talk to you. Let her hold what is still the child in you that may be trembling with fear, doubt, an-ger, confusion, fatigue. Hear her call you by name; hear her invite you to come near; hear her send you forth. Write your own Magnificat. Spend time tracing the great things God has done both in your own life and in the congregation. Recognize God's action in the flesh and blood of your own history: when and how he looked with favor on his lowly servant; when and how he smashed and scattered you in your pride, cast you down from any little thrones you had set up for yourself, or sent you away aware of how empty you re-ally were when you thought you were so rich; how and when he lifted 352 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 you up even as you experienced most forcefully your own lowliness. Put all that into concrete, vivid terms. And then give praise. Then write your own fiat. Look into the depths of your present and look out towards the possible future and with conviction spell out the fiat, the yes, even though you are not sure of the cost, the possible ex-iles, the shape or duration of the cross you may have to carry, to climb upon. "Yes--be it done to me according to your word." Yes, I let go of my plans, my conditions. I surrender, I submit. Fiat! Again, spell that out in the concrete terms of your own life. At the same time, offer a prayer to Mary asking for her assistance to live out thisfiat as fully and as deeply as possible. And let us not fail the people we serve. Invite them to Mary. Let us attract and lead them to what the pope calls the "specific geography of faith and Marian devotion., these special places of pilgrimage where the People of God seek to meet the Mother of God in order to find, within the radius of the maternal presence of her 'who believes,' a strengthening of their own faith" (RM 28). Our shrines, our programs of devotion, all these can be sources of grace through Mary for the con-tinuing pilgrimage of faith. Be creative in bringing Mary to people and people to Mary. I close with words from our Holy Father's prayer for the Marian Year: "Mary, you received Jesus with ready obedience and undivided heart. You allowed yourself to be led by the Holy Spirit's hidden and powerful action. Sustain us, O Virgin Mary, on our journey of faith." My own prayer for all of us echoes the pope's prayer at a Mass re-cently in Foggia: "May this Marian Year be for individual souls and for the entire community a prolonged, ardent Pentecost." Personal Responsibility in .Initial Formation Melannie Svoboda, S.N.D. Sister Melannie's most recent contribution to this journal is her "Quotations for Com-munity" in the January/February 1988 issue. She may be addressed at Notre Dame Educational Center; 13000 Auburn Road; Chardon, Ohio 44024. For most formation directors, one thing is clear: One of our main con-cerns in the initial formation process is to encourage personal responsi-bility in the persons we direct. What is less clear is the answers to these questions: What exactly is personal responsibility? Why is it so impor-tant in initial formation? How can we encourage it in our directees? What are some signs that a person is, indeed, growing in personal responsibil-ity? And what are some of the obstacles to our encouraging of personal responsibility? This article attempts to explore some answers to these questions. It is based on a series of discussions that our initial-formation team had this past year. I am indebted to our candidate director, Sister Annete Adams, and our director of temporary professed, Sister Mary Catherine Caine, for their valuable input on this topic. Although we were primarily inter-ested in personal responsibility in initial formation, much of what is said here can also apply to the ongoing formation process as well. What is personal responsibility? It is perhaps easier to describe personal responsibility than it is to define it. We saw personal responsibility as a person's ability to make good decisions and to accept the consequences of his or her decisions. Such decisions are made freely; they are not made out of fear or guilt or coercion. The decisions or choices are basically good; that is, they are 353 354 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 based on Gospel ~alues and they are motivated by love. They take into consideration factors other than the person's own feelings and prefer-ences. And, finally, the decisions are open to the Spirit and open to change as life presents the individual with more knowledge, more expe-riences, and more insights. Why is personal responsibility so important? There are a number of reasons why personal responsibility is so im-portant in initial formation. One reason concerns one of the goals of the initial-formation process: the making of a life commitment. Such a com-mitment is valid only if it is made freely, with adequate knowledge and understanding, and if it proceeds from love. In other words, the very mak-ing of valid vows presupposes personal responsibility. But personal responsibility extends beyond the making of a commit-ment; it is essential for the living of such a commitment in a healthy and happy way. Once a person "graduates" from the "schoo| of initial for-mation," he or she is expected to assume responsibility for his or her own growth and development. It is crucial, then, that formation direc-tors see and encourage personal responsibility throughout the initial-formation process. A third reason why personal responsibility is so vital concerns the nature of religious life today. The many changes in the structures of re-ligious life since Vatican II call for far more personal responsibility than in the past. Changes in our understanding of the vows and community also put far greater emphasis on an individual's ability to make good de-cisions and choices. How can we encourage personal responsibility? If personal responsibility is so important in initial formation, what are some of the ways we can encourage it in the persons we direct? One way we can encourage it is to talk about it. We do this not once and for all, but over and over again, in a variety of ways, from different per-spectives as the person grows and matures in the initial-formation proc-ess. We should talk about personal responsibility in both a general way and a specific way. In a general way we discuss with them the nature and importance of personal responsibility. In a specific way we talk with them one on one about how responsible they are. This means we have to ask some probing questions such as these: When and where are you praying? How do you see yourself carrying out your duties such as study, housework, your involvement in community? What are your responsi-bilities in your current ministry and how are you handling them? What Personal Responsibility in Formation / 355 personal decisions or choices have you made recently? Do you see these decisions or choices as good? Why or why not? How are you getting along with the people you live with and work with? Do they see you as a responsible person or not? A second way to encourage personal responsibility is to allow the per-son in formation the freedom to make choices--both good choices and not-so-good choices. This means that as directors we allow an individ-ual to make mistakes. It has been my experience as novice director that some of the worst choices my novices made were some of the most bene-ficial for their growth. Thirdly, we encourage personal responsibility by affirming a person when we see him or her assuming personal responsibility. We can also encourage it by allowing our directees to live with and work side by side with professed members of the community who have achieved a healthy level of personal responsibility. Nothing teaches better than example. What are some signs of personal responsibility in a person? What are some tangible signs that a person in formation is assuming personal responsibility? For brevity's sake, I will merely list some of those signs as we saw them: The person: --gives evidence of self-knowledge and self-esteem --is basically happy and at ease with life --is able to learn from experience --is able to do things he or she does not like to do --gives evidence of being essentially self-directed ~isplays a consistency between stated beliefs and choices --is able to draw from a variety of sources when making serious deci-sions --gives evidence that he or she has thought through and prayed over the more serious decisions he or she has to make --is open to suggestions and direction --is able to deal with irresponsibility in others; this means he or she can accept it when necessary, but also is able to confront it when this would be the more appropriate option --is consistent in behavior no matter who is or is not present --gives evidence of a healthy interdependence with others --assumes initiative ---can deal with boredom or routine 356 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 --- can handle both failure and success What are some obstacles to encouraging personal responsibility? As formation directors, what are some of the obstacles we face in trying to encourage persona.I responsibility in the persons we direct? I think the main obstacles come from three different sources: our directees, the wider community, and ourselves. Sometimes the persons we have in initial formation make it difficult for us to encourage personal responsibility. Some individuals come to religious life desiring to hand over all personal responsibility in the name of holiness. They come to us with a tell-me-what-to-do-and-I-will-do-it attitude. In sharp contrast, others enter religious life equating personal responsibility with let-me-do-whatever-I-want-to-do. Both types make it difficult for formation directors to encourage a healthy personal respon-sibility. Other times one of our obstacles may be members of the wider com-munity. Some professed members may possess an obsolete understand-ing of initial formation which says, "Tell the novice what to do. If she does it, fine. If she doesn't, tell her to leave." When a formation direc-tor, in the name of freedom, allows a person in formation to make a poor choice, other members might cry out: "You're letting her get away with murder!" At times like these, formation directors must be convinced that there is much more to formation than having a directee make what ap-pear to be "the right choices all the time." But the greatest obstacle to encouraging personal responsibility usu-ally lies within ourselves as formation directors. We can fall into two "camps" depending on our personalities. If I, as a director, am a per-son who likes to be in control, then I might want to control my directees too much. This means I might not allow them the real freedom to make their own decisions and thus to grow through them. Perhaps I might con-trol their choices through force or even charm. Perhaps, in the name of saving them the pain of a poor choice, I might tell them what to do. Or maybe I control their decisions for fear of what the next director or the wider community will think of me. On the other hand, if I am fearful of my authority as a formation di-rector, I might adopt a laissez-faire style of direction. This means I might let anything and everything go. I might not challenge the persons in for-mation. I may be afraid to question the choices I see them making. Be-cause most communities have so few in initial formation, I might be tempted to "keep" everyone no matter how much irresponsibility I see. Personal Responsibility in Formation / 357 In conclusion, then, we have seen that growth in personal responsi-bility is an integral part of the initial-formation process. But more than that, it is an intrinsic component of lifelong happiness. Someone has said, "There can be no happiness if the things we believe in are differ-ent from the things we do." Through the encouragement of personal re-sponsibility, formation directors can help individuals achieve greater har-mony between belief and behavior. Your World is Your World, mythirst. Love, will all these as beautiful earthly treasures as the one stillbemine? You give me orshall I each day? lose forever will I see thesmell the changing of burning leaves, of the sky., noreveragain will I watch see the trees the birds fly ofmy autumn days beyond my horizon., change their dress? will I feel wherewill the touch all these be, of warm water Love. ? as it caresses oh! surely, my flesh, I'll have or its cold them all coolness in having You! as it slakes Claire Mahaney, R.S.C.J. Valparaiso Community 140 Valparaiso Avenue Menlo Park, California 94025 Refounding Through Values Barbara D. Ledig Ms. Ledig is president of Omega Associates, Inc., in Santa Clara, California. With others from Omega, she has for almost ten years helped religious orders and congre-gations to adjust, with value-based systemic discernment, to the significant changes of the post-Vatican II world. This paper explains the theory and practice of Omega's methods, methods that will be used in the August 1988 workshop for religious lead-ership personnel to be held at Santa Clara University and sponsored by that university and by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. She may be addressed at 410 Pinehurst Avenue; Los Gatos, CA 95030. What is happening in our institutions today? This question is being fre-quently asked by religious congregations, educational institutions, health-care facilities, and,~more recently, sectors of business and industry. It seems that the guidelines and structures that characterized these systems since their first formal beginnings have become increasingly unfocused. This is unsettling not only for those who administer and lead these institutions but for those affected by them. A major portion of society, therefore, is dealing with a shift that is little understood, a shift accom-panied by anxiety and indecision. Solutions that once worked have be-come obsolete and there are no models for new ones. Our religious institutions are experiencing this shift more profoundly than many others in that they have been around for a longer time. They are, therefore, further away from their beginnings, beginnings rooted an historical reality very different from the one in which we are currently living. Members of these institutions are finding that the ideas on which they were built and the type of management that enabled them to sur-vive and flourish are no longer working. The population of religious per-sonnel who drive these institutions is diminishing; as a result people who do not necessarily share the original values that gave birth to them are 358 Refounding Through Values / 359 the ones responsible for making decisions regarding the way they func-tion and how they will be carried into the future. An Historical Perspective The extreme change in the Western world resulting from the French and American Revolutions and the Industrial Revolution in England led to the birth of the great teaching and mission orders of the 1800s. These orders, especially those of women, generally came to operate on a basis of uniformity in dress, behavior, and prayer, with detailed rules and con-stitutions regulating daily life. It was through Vatican II in the 1960s that these issues were readdressed and the Church began to return to a more flexible, collegial orientation and urged religious congregations to re-study and return to their founding charism. Communal life in the convents, and seminaries, where often a hun-dred or more people shared living quarters, began to take the form of small communities for the purpose of increasing the quality of life through relationships in which personal growth could more readily be en-couraged and nurtured. The ultimate goal was increased unity in the Church for the purpose of common mission. The vision was a good one but did not anticipate sufficiently the wide range of skills needed to cope with a radically changed environment and more complex interpersonal relationships. The old hierarchical structures and lines of authority were removed or became unclear, and participative decision making was en-couraged. The effects of these changes increased dramatically over the years and are now being experienced in their extreme. The Dynamics of Transition The removal of clear lines of authority has created multiple handi-caps for those in leadership positions. When clear rules dictate what is right and wrong and when authority is vested in one person, as was the case before Vatican II, decisions can be made on objective criteria that are commonly understood and accepted. When these lines of authority become hazy, when the guidelines are unclear, decision making becomes a more complex issue. Personal and communal discernment, methods that have replaced the more authoritarian ones for decision making, re-spect the integrity of the individual on the one hand but require a more complex level of skills on the other. There has been a shift from a rigid structure to a more flexible one. During the last seven years our work with numerous national and inter-national congregations has, however, shown that this shift is incomplete. Most religious institutions are resting somewhere between a hierarchi- 360/Review for Religious, May-June 1988 cal, rule-oriented structure and a flexible, collegial one. The result is con-fusion, internal conflict, and tremendous stress on leadership. It is a time of difficult transition. Older sisters and priests who have given their lives to build these in-stitutions in order to provide relief to the suffering through their minis-tries feel unappreciated and confused about changing a way that was once so strongly validated. Younger sisters and priests are also experiencing confusion about the past as well as the uncertain futures into which their congregations are moving. The dynamics of such a transition are two-fold. There is a pull back to the old, secure model on the one hand and an equally strong pull to move quickly to a new model on the other. Mem-bers of a congregation caught in the first dynamic may become rigid, an-gry, and controlling while those in the second are prone to overly inde-pendent behaviors. In both cases there is a loss of meaning. These dy-namics are not necessarily related to the different age groups within the congregation but appear to be more dependent on the personalities of the individuals. Going back is not possible, nor desirable. What once worked was ap-propriate for the times. Society has changed, our institutions have changed, and people have changed. How do we bring clarity, unity, and efficiency into our institutions so that they can serve the function for which they were created and at the same time enable them to respect and dignify the growth and well-being of the individuals they serve? The hi-erarchical structures that once worked so well must change in form to meet the demands of this new age and become flexible structures that fa-cilitate caring for individual members and releasing the original energy of the charism of the congregation. The values that gave birth to the in-stitution must be renewed and preserved so they 'can flow through its mem-bers and be expressed in mission, but the way in which those values are expressed must change. The structures that have been removed must be replaced by value-oriented ones. In order to effect this change the insti-tution must first become clear about what values lie at the heart of its system. The core center of values, the faith center, must be identified and clarified. Once this is accomplished the clarified core values, imple-mented by historically congruent means, provide the new structures which enable appropriate adaptation to the future. The Nature of Values Values are not a new phenomenon in our society. Aristotle and Plato spoke of them in the light of ideals, or virtues. They were dealt with mainly in the abstract in terms of states of being to be strived for. Refounding Through Values / 36"1 St. Paul spoke of values in his letter to the Galatians: "Anyone can see the kind of behavior that belongs to the lower nature: fornication, im-purity, and indecency; idolatry and sorcery; quarrels, a contentious tem-per, envy, fits of rage, selfish ambitions, dissensions, party bouts, or-gies, and the like . But the harvest of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, fidelity, gentleness, and self-control" (Ga 5:19-23 NEB). In this case values were seen as signs that differentiated behaviors guided by the Spirit from those that were not. In more recent history we have the value-clarification movement of the 1960s and in the 1980s the high point of value consciousness in busi-ness and industrial settings brought forth largely by such books as In Search of Excellence by Peters and Waterman, Theory Z: How Ameri-can Business Can Meet the Japanese Challenge by Ouchi, and Corpo-rate Cultures: The Rites and Rituals of Corporate Life by Deal and Ken-nedy. However, the reality is that it has been difficult to work with values because they tend to elude the possibility for practical application and measurement. The work of Omega Associates, Inc., of Santa Clara, Cali-fornia has been focused on value research for the past twenty years. Dur-ing this period of time we have worked on discovering ways to identify and measure values so that they can be used more creatively to enhance the quality of human life. The first step in this ongoing process was the identification of 125 value words in the written and spoken language. We found that these val-ues appear consistently throughout the life span of individuals and or-ganizations and appear to be stable and evident across all social strata, languages, and cultures. They constitute one segment of a values theory developed by Brian Hall, Benjamin Tonna, and more recently Barbara Ledig which is the basis for an understanding of how values on the indi-vidual and corporate level work. The values theory holds as a basic assumption that language influ-ences behavior, whether it is written language, spoken language, or the language of art and architecture. Some words and groups of words have a greater effect on behavior than others, and we call these words values. The value words we identified form the basis for computerized programs which analyze values in individuals, groups, institutions, and documents and serve as a framework through which we can look at all sections of a system through a common denominator. The basis of the framework is the 125 values. The principles which guide the understanding of how 362 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 the values work are found in the values theory. Values Theory and the Genesis Effect The basic concept underlying the values theory is taken from an an-cient idea that has only recently been confirmed by modern science. That is, each thought, feeling, and action is preceded by an internal image. That image is transformed into action through language, the language of values. Value words are conveyers of energy and form configurations that reflect the internal imaging process through human or organizational behavior. That is, they identify clusters of human experience and act as a bridge between the inner world of thoughts, feelings, sensations, and intuitions and the outer world of concrete reality. Values are understood in this context as behavioral priorities that an individual acts on. This proc-ess has been defined by Hall as the "genesis effect" in a book by the same name and is based on the biblical concept that it was through, the spoken word that God transformed an inner image of creation into real-ity. In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless wasteland, and darkness covered the abyss, while a mighty wind swept over the waters. Then God said, "Let there be !ight," and there was light. God saw how good the light was . Then God said: "Let us make man in our image, after our likeness. Let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, the birds of the air, and the cat-tle, and over all the wild animals and all the creatures that crawl on the ground." God created man in his image; in the divine image he created him; male and female he created them (Gn 1:1-4, 26-27 NAB). Values and Their Patterns To identify and clarify our values is a step in the right direction, but what do we do with them after that? Our research has shown us that it is not so much values in themselves that are important, but the way in which they combine with other values in one's life and the priority these combinations take at a given time. We have long been aware of some of the value combinations and the way they can be grouped into clusters and patterns. However, a significant point was reached in our work just six years ago due to new advances in computer technology. Brian Hall and associates of Omega in cooperation with students in the Graduate Di-vision of Counseling Psychology and Education at Santa Clara Univer-sity in Santa Clara, California, discovered new ways to measure and ap-ply values and new ways to break them into patterns and clusters so that they could be compared and contrasted more extensively. This gave us Refounding Through Values more comprehensive information regarding their meaning in the life of persons and institutions. Since that time we have validated our meth-odologies and applied them extensively in religious, educational, and health-care systems involving several international cultures and over 6,000 individuals. The information we obtain from the identification and comparison of value priorities and clusters is used to do a value analysis for the pur-pose of understanding the qualitative nature of the values and their rela-tionship to the meaning system of the individual or the institution. Once this is clear, rigid rule-oriented structures can be replaced by new life-giving ones based on the energy and purpose inherent in the individual or system rather than on external, objective criteria that may be histori-cally biased. Value Pattern I: Phases and Stages In this value pattern we see the 125 values placed along a progres-sive developmental scale divided into phases and stages. The range of the phases is from I to IV with those most basic to human life and devel-opment falling into Phase I. These values progressively become more com-plex as the human being grows and develops, with Phase IV reflecting values of maximum complexity requiring high levels of intellectual, spiri-tual, and emotional development and an environment that supports their expression. This developmental scale does not assume a positive or negative value but rather places emphasis on the integration of the values in the life journey of the individual or the institution in terms of the skill de-velopment needed in order to live them out behaviorally. It is the com-bination of the values and how they fall against the backdrop of the four phases in relationship to one another that determines the quality of life expression. Each of the four phases is divided into two stages, an A stage and a B stage. Values in the A stages are personal values, and values in the B stages are those lived out primarily through institutional interaction. These institutions include the family, place of work, church or syna-gogue, government structures, and religious congregation. Because a per-son's value choices are always limited and influenced by the institutions in which he or she lives and works, the degree to which this interaction can be measured and understood influences the degree to which the per-son can have clarity about the environment's effect on the quality of his or her life. The end result is heightened insight and the ability to make more focused choices. Likewise, an institution can become aware of the 3611 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 impact it is having on its members. Value Pattern II: Act, Choice, and Vision The value combinations in their phases and stages can also be pat-terned according to the priority they take in one's life in terms of pre-sent choices, past development, and emerging futures. Choice values are those that are the present focus of one's life in terms of time and energy expenditure. These choices are not always made freely but are condi-tioned by one's life circumstances. For example, a person may value his or her family a great deal, but if a crisis in the work place occurs he or she may have to work twelve hours a day until the crisis is resolved. In this case, the value of family would of necessity become secondary in terms of the time and energy available to be dedicated to it. Act values are those values that are foundational to human life. They are the basic values which enable survival and security in the world. When these values are threatened by a change in one's environment, such as a move to a new culture or the loss of a job, priority energy must be diverted from the areas of choice in order to deal with the change. Vision values are those values which energize us and pull us toward hopeful futures. They motivate us in the present by giving meaning our day-to-day experience and enabling us to see beyond ourselves and our present reality. In an institution, Act values serve as the foundation in terms of poli-cies, procedures, benefits, and so on. The Choice values are those which guide day-to-day direction and define the management structure. Vision values provide the purpose of the institution and affect the way in which Choice values are operationalized. Value Pattern III: Cycles A third value pattern emerges when the combinations of values in their personal and institutional dimensions form cycles of development. There are seven such cycles, and each has its own unique worldview. Information around the values in each of these cycles helps in the inter-pretation of an individual's or group's leadership and management style, ethical orientation, faith stance, management of time, and behavior pat-terns under stress. Of particular significance to professional religious per-sonnel are the different ways in which the vows can be understood at each of these cycles. The first cycle is called the Primal Cycle. At this cycle the individ-ual experiences the world as a hostile and alien place in which primary needs are those centered on security and survival. He or she emphasizes Refounding Through Values / 365 material possession because it is through material structures that survival is made possible. This is primarily the world of young children or aged adults who must depend on others to care for them and provide them with basic security. However, through the life journey most people will ex-perience values in this cycle from time to time, for we never lose our need for safety and security. The ethical stance of this cycle is one of self-interest which insures survival. A leader who operates primarily out of Cycle I values will have an autocratic and authoritarian style with his or her subordinates for the purpose of maintaining total control. Delegation comes with difficulty because it is perceived as a diminishment of personal power. God is ex-perienced as a savior who heals one's pain but who is distant and imper-sonal. The task at this cycle is to learn the skills needed to survive in an alien environment and to develop a creative and positive imagination that will facilitate healthy movement into other cycles. The second cycle is the Familial Cycle. As the world becomes less alien and new skills are learned, there is an emphasis placed on values related to belonging to a family, a particular group, or a respected insti-tution. It is important to learn skills that enable one to be accepted by and to contribute to the group. The ethical stance at this cycle is based on fairness and mutual re-spect. Laws and rules are expected to be followed so as to maintain an ordered environment. A leader operating out of this cycle will tend to be benevolent to those who work for him or her but will expect them to obey the rules. The attitude is best described as maternal or paternal in that followers are cared for but are not given any authority. This becomes problematic when the follower wants more autonomy and responsibility. At this cycle God is experienced as a parental master and teacher, through one's parents and through the ministerial figures in the church or synagogue. The primary task at this cycle is to learn skills through formal edu-cation and to begin to understand the world more broadly. Sound relig-ious education in the Faith and in Scripture are important. The third cycle is called the Institutional Cycle. It is here that the world begins to be experienced as less alien than before, and increased emphasis is placed on education as a means to achievement and success. There is often tension between the time spent with one's family and the time spent doing things necessary to enable the family to survive. 366/Review for Religious, May-June 1988 Ethical choices are most likely to be based on what the law and re-spected institutions say is right. A leader operating with priority values in this cycle will have a bureaucratic style and will place high value on efficient and orderly management. Loyalty to the company will be ex-pected and rewarded and disloyalty considered a serious offense. The bu-reaucratic leader may delegate to others but only to those who are most skilled and who have proven their loyalty. God is experienced as master and teacher and is often represented through the ministers and priests of the church. The sacramental life and personal prayer are considered important, as are institutional religion and commitment to a local church or synagogue. The primary task at this cycle is to learn interpersonal and social skills and the skills of one's profession. It is also a time to begin under-standing the difference between one's own values and the values held by one's family. It is a time of preparation for conversion to special service related to God's call. The fourth cycle is the Intrapersonal Cycle. At this time the world begins to be experienced as less certain than before, and new questions arise regarding previously held beliefs and attitudes. A search for new personal meaning and values may be embarked upon and the teachings of formerly respected institutions looked upon more critically. Profes-sional successes may become less important as the individual strives to discover his or her unique skills and abilities. There is a pull between a strong need for independence and meeting the demands of the institu-tions of which one is a part. Issues around social justice may take on new interest and lead to increased involvement in political or social arenas. The ethical orientation at the Intrapersonal Cycle becomes confused as one pulls away from old ways of making decisions and strives to put into action values that are beginning to create a new, more individual-ized way of assessing reality. A leader with priority values at this cycle will struggle between meeting the needs of the institution and being sen-sitive to the more personal needs of his or her employees. It is a time of confusion and of search for the balance between these two, often op-posing, factors. Hence, it may also be a time of inaction because it is simply too difficult to make decisions. This is a transitional stage of lead-ership, sometimes referred to as laissez-faire, for things are very often left to happen as they will. It is critical for persons operating at this cy-cle to learn the skills that enable them to make decisive decisions which meet both institutional needs and the needs of the individuals in the in- Refounding Through Values stitution; otherwise there is the risk of returning to a more bureaucratic and controlling management or leadership style. God is now becoming internal and personal as a friend and lover in-stead of master and teacher. For many, this period is marked by conver-sion to a new commitment to the Faith. The development of skills in the imaginal area is needed in order to see the world more wholistically and creatively. Meditation and spiritual exercises as well as attention to one's physical health are important for growth into a world that is experienced as more complex. It is important to find a p~rticular life-sustaining value system that enables a new com-mitment to faith. The fifth cycle is the Communal/Collaborative Cycle. Individuals functioning at this cycle will experience the world as a place in which they feel they can participate by using their unique skills in a productive way, The search is now concentrated on discovering new ways to inte-grate individual abilities with the needs of society. Because of the high level of interaction at which the individual is now functioning, issues of time management become critical. Persons at this cycle begin to see the world more clearly, resulting, in an increased awareness of issues around justice and oppression. It becomes impera-tive that they have support structures such as a group of respected peers and trusted friends as well as people of the same professional status and ability with whom ideas and problems can be shared regularly. Ethical choices at this cycle are based on the personally meaningful set of values that have developed, and actions are guided by an inner con-science. Laws are respected but not considered infallible. A charismatic and democratic leadership style becomes possible, for the individual has a new sense of personal creative energy and a renewed vision of an in-stitution that can be efficient and can dignify its members as well. Be-cause leaders of this type are in high demand, issues of time manage-ment, stress, and personal health are more important than ever. God now is experienced as a personal friend and companion sharing in the new ex-pression of the gifts that are becoming a part of the individual's life ex-perience. The sixth cycle is the Mystical Cycle. When individuals are able to acquire the skills, maturity, life experience, and integrated personal de-velopment which characterize this cycle, they begin to experience the world as a revered gift they must be responsible for and with which they must creatively interact. 3611/Review for Religious, May-June 1988 Ethical choices are based on an awareness of the rights of all human beings. Activities include doing those things necessary to diminish in-justices in institutions and organizations. A leader operating with the val-ues and skills of this cycle is called a Servant leader. Servant leadership is characterized by interdependence, mutual responsibility, collegiality, and creativity. Group decision making becomes a natural process, and authority is always used corporately. God is now lover, friend, and Lord of creation. Persons at this cycle experience humanity in a new, more complete way through God's eyes. Intimacy with others is a condition for intimacy with the divine and re-quires radical commitment to service and the contemplative side of one-self. This means balancing the personal experience of intimacy with con-templative solitude and obligations to work and service. Those persons who are able to achieve this high level of functioning must learn new skills, the most critical being the skills that will help them to balance their involvement in the development of just and humane in-stitutions with ample time for solitude and intimacy. It is this balance that will enable them to maintain the level of emotional, physical, men-tal, and spiritual integration necessary for being a powerful and yet posi-tive influence in the world. The seventh and last cycle is the Prophetic Cycle. The world here is viewed as a mystery for which "we" must care. "We" is used in this case as Prophetic leadership primarily expressed at a global level. It requires the collaboration of all institutions concerned with human dig-nity and justice. It is also expressed through being a member of a sup-portive community of peers who appreciate a global level of involve-ment. Global involvement assumes equal attention to local levels. Ethical choices at this cycle lead to involvement in activities de-signed to improve the balance between the world of material goods and the needs of each human being. Prophetic leadership is characterized by interdependence at an interinstitutional and global level and is concerned with global ethical issues centered in ecology, human rights, and tech-nological advancement. God is now experienced as the Lord of creation calling all people to cooperate in establishing a more just and ecologically balanced order in the world. A critical skill component of this high level of development is an awareness of the field of consciousness of all of the preceding cycles and the ability to interact with persons at each level. Spiritually, there is a new appreciation of God's Lordship over the whole creation and a reali- Refounding Through Values / 369 zation that all people are being called to cooperate with God in estab-lishing a more just and ecologically balanced order in the world. Value patterns I, II, and III are based on the perspective of the Hall value theory that holds that life is developmental. In this case time is ex-perienced as linear, moving from the past into the future. This is a help-ful way to view the values in their connection to skills as skills are learned step by step in the developmental process. In reality, however, our past and future can only be experienced in the present. Past devel-opment affects the quality of our lives in the present as do our envisioned futures. This brings us to value pattern IV, which sees life as wholistic, with past, present, and future forming the present reality. Value Pattern IV: Goals and Means Values The fourth value pattern is the combinations of Goals, which are long-term values, with Means, or short-term values. A large part of the analysis of values is concerned with this interactive, or dialectical, rela-tionship between Goals and Means. The significance of these combina-tions can be realized when one looks at the difference in the quality of the behavioral expression of different combinations of Goals and Means values. For example, when the value of Worship, a Goal value, is ex-pressed through the Means value of Institution, the behavioral conse-quence would be personal worship through institutionalized expressions such as attending Eucharist or praying the Liturgy of the Hours. When the same Goal value of Worship is expressed through the Means value of Expressiveness/Flexibility, the result may be worship through faith sharing, dance, or creative liturgy. Two people sharing the same Goal value may be at odds about how this Goal value is expressed. Likewise, persons in religious congregations, united by the same goals, may be di-vided in their opinions about the way in which these goals should be ex-pressed. Frequently, institutions have Goal values that are in keeping with the original vision on which they were founded, but have outdated Means values for reaching those goals. Understanding the Value Patterns: The Discernment Process The methodology for working with value information must be con-sistent with the nature of the values themselves. For that reason, unlike most methodologies that were designed to give reports based on factual findings, the methodology for collecting value information and analyz-ing value patterns is based on a process of discernment, a reflective proc-ess that raises questions rather than gives answers. There are several steps in the discernment process. 370 / Review for Religious, May-June 1988 The first step is the collection of information. The information (I) must be high-quality information as well as statistical/financial informa-tion and (2) must be collected in a consistent manner. High-quality information is information that comes close to the pulse and heartbeat of all parts of the system. It is, in this case, value infor-mation. It is collected consistently by specialized instrumentation that uses an underlying algorithm based on the 125 values and the values the-ory. All of the information is processed by the use of the methodology of Convergence, Congruence, and Confirmation. ConVergence occurs when particular value patterns repeat themselves. The information is then checked for Congruency with what the person or persons in the institu-tion know to be true about themselves and for Confirmation in the lived reality. The Instrumentation is as follows. HT-Doc This abbreviation refers to the HalI-Tonna method of collecting in-formation from the formal documents of the institution. This may be the philosophy of the person or persons who founded the institution in which its purpose, mission, and charism are delineated as well as information contained in the rules, constitutions, or directives. By analyzing the val-ues in each paragraph of the documents, a values.profile can be obtained on the paragraphs, on each part, section, and chapter, and on the docu-ments as a whole. In addition, identified areas of interest throughout the documents--such as those dealing with leadership, charism, vows, and mission---can also be analyzed for their value content. These value pro-files are then reflected on and analyzed in terms of congruences and dis-crepancies and the significance they may have in light of internal con-sistency. The information derived from these profiles can be translated into practical applications. For example, by looking at the value patterns in the Act, Choice, and Vision areas, it is possible to see what the docu-ments are saying in terms of the Act area as related to policies and pro-cedures, the Choice area as related to management structures, and the Vision area as related to long-term goals. In a religious congregation the Vision values would define the expression of mission. The Hall-Tonna Inventory of Values The Hall-Tonna Inventory of Values is a 77-item forced-choice ques-tionnaire which raises questions relative to an individual's preferences and choices. The result of this questionnaire is a 15-to-25 page report which shows the individual's priority value choices on a developmental scale. A set of questions is raised for each cluster of value choices. The Refounding Through Values / 371 recipient of the report is then asked to respond to these questions by read-ing through them and identifying those that reflect issues of priority con-cern based on specified criteria. If desired, the Hall-Tonna Inventory of Values can be combined for specified groups of individuals in order to produce a composite profile. This is often helpful in looking at the com-bined values of a leadership team, local house, or general council for pur-poses of planning, education, or creating a corporate mission-and-philosophy statement within the boundaries of the value information ob-tained from the analysis of the documents. Another way to apply this in-formation is to look at the composite values of the entire institution and compare them with the envisioned values of the institution as expressed through its documents. The Hall-Ledig Interview Format (Interform) This is another method by which information can be collected on in-dividuals through a one-hour personal interview for the purpose of com-paring value information from the Hall-Tonna Inventory of Values with value information from the lived reality. Once the collection of information has been completed, the second step in the discernment process is reflecting on the information. The information which has been collected thr.ough one or more of the above instruments is then reflected on and analyzed. The value pat-terns which have emerged are compared with one another, convergences and discrepancies are noted, and discernment questions are raised from the composite information. It is, once again, through the process of Con-vergence, Congruence, and Confirmation that priority issues can be dis-cerned from the large amount of data collected. If more than one type of instrumentation has been used, the process repeats itself each time with questions being raised based on the internal relationship of the value clusters to one another, the relationship between different sets of value clusters, and the relationship between sets of value clusters gathered with each type of instrumentation. This brings us to the third step of the discernment process, which is acting on the information. The focal issues in the data that has been col-lected up to this point have now been identified. Each issue results in a series of discernment questions. As the questions are responded to, the plan for action begins to unfold based on the discrepancies in the infor-mation gathered with each type of instrumentation as well as discrepan-cies between the information from all of the instrumentation used. The information is then moved to action in the form of value-based policies, procedures and minimal-norm statements, leadership training, education 379/Review for Religious, May-June 1988 focus for initial and ongoing formation, and long-term strategic planning. Conclusions The Church today, like many of our institutions, is experiencing a significant crisis. On the positive side this can be seen as a call, a call to reevaluate the way in which it is moving into the future. History has introduced new concept