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Issue 64.3 of the Review for Religious, 2005. ; lglous Witnessing The Spirit QUARTERLY 64.3 2005: Review for Religious fosters dialogue with God, dialogue with ourselves, and dialogue with one another about the holiness we try to live according to cbarisms of Catholic religious life. As Pope Paul VI 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: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: 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 McDonough OP ¯ Pontifical College Josephinum 7625 North High Street ¯ Columbus, Ohio 43235 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ° Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2005 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. ev'iew for religious Editor Associate Editor Canonical Counsel Scripture Scope Editorial Staff Wetrmaster Adv#ory Board David L. Fleming sJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Eugene Hensell OSB Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp Clare Boehmer ASC Steve Erspamer SM Kathleen Hughes RSCJ Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Terry Steib SVD Miriam D. Ukeritis CSJ QUARTERLY 64.3 2005 contents 228 prisms Prisms community chapters 230 Where Two or More Are Gathered Ted Dunn explores some of the unique challenges and opportunities pertaining to religious chapters of election, especially highlighting the differences between politics and discernment. 242 Chapter Delegates, Once and Future Sister Marie de Lourdes Mates IHM recapitulates and refurbishes some earnest practical suggestions about what to look for in chapter delegates. 252 Community Chapters: Seven Personal Beliefs Melannie Svoboda SND presents an outline of concrete expectations for a religious congregation's chapter meeting. Reflection and Discussion 226 259 religious life Invisible--Even to Ourselves? Marie Brinkman SCL emphasizes that visible unity-- community bonds--must become the sign of Christ and his church that religious life is meant to be. Review for Religious 269 Living in Community: Continuing the Conversation Doris Gottemoeller RSM returns to the discussion about the place of community living as an uncommon and striking witness to the power of the gospel and the dynamism of a congregation's charism. Psalm Prayer Reflection and Discussion 281 witnessing With Love from Calcutta and Lisieux: Letters of Mother Teresa and St. Thdr~se Mary C. Carroll SSSF gives witness to the wisdom of a loving friendship expressed in the letter exchanges of Mother Teresa of Calcutta and Father Michael van der Peet SCJ and Thdr~se of Lisieux and Maurice Barth~l~my-Belli~re. 296 Alfred Delp SJ and the Heart of Jesus Mary Frances Coady focuses on Alfred Delp's devotion to the Heart of Jesus that sustained him in his Nazi imprisonment and eventual death by hanging. 301 the spirit Led by the Spirit: St. Basil the Great Andrew Ryder SCJ enters us into St. Basil the Great's contributions to our theological understanding and appre-ciation of the Holy Spirit as the third person of the Trinity. departments 316 Scripture Scope: Encountering the Parables of Jesus 321 Canonical Counsel: Additional Comments on Interpretation 326 Book Reviews 64.3 200~ prisms The prevalent theological cat-egory in describing the church is the word com-munion. It is significant that this choice of word confronts the most serious need of our times. Communion emphasizes what binds us together. Theologians today want to say that this word most captures what the church is all about. Pope Benedict xvI, in his initial addresses as the leader of the Roman Catholic commu-nity, has called for a renewed effort among all peoples of religion to look to some kind of bonding or communion. The essential witness that any Christian gives is that of bonding. There is no working for justice unless there is a bonding with the "other." There is no exercise of charity unless there is a communion with the ones being served. As Jesus pointed out consistently, each one of us as a follower comes to serve and not be served--like him. We do not serve justice or charity out of a superior stance; we can only be on the same level, as with our sisters and broth-ers, and it is there that we work. Perhaps we may look like good secular social workers. As Christians, we want more; we are looking towards communion. If marriage in the Christian community has no greater rate of fidelity than secular marriage, then as Christians we are failing. If men and women in religious life commitment do not give Review for Religious witness to a life in common, then they fail in the most essential witness of their religious life. It is not just in entering upon a vocation and it is not just in generous service that we show ourselves to be Christian. The "proof of the pudding" is whether we truly are people who "bond," who live in communion because commu-nion is entering into God's life, the life of the Trinity. How in our times have we lost some ways of "bond-ing," of being in communion? It seems we no longer recognize that there are three progressive steps which Jesus has identified for us in the Gospels. First, there is detachment ("leave your father and your mother," "go, sell") or what we might today call availability. We come with so many non-negotiables; we come with our needs and our demands. Many of us Christians are unavailable to God and to one another. And. so the first step in bond-ing or communion is being available. The second step is generosity or being in service ("come, follow"). We often pride ourselves on how much we do for others, extending ourselves generously with our time and tal-ent. No doubt we are people of service, but is it all on our terms? Are we covetously in control of all our works of justice and charity? Both the first and the second steps can be half steps in living as a Christian. Are half steps any steps at all? The third is, simply, sharing or, rightly understood, surrendering ("take up your cross"). Commun. ion hap-pens when we are available, when we give. generously in service, and when we share our lives unstintingly--as God does with us. Communion or bonding is our 21 st-_century quest as a Catholic community. It is a quest that Jesus tells us is within our ~raced reach. David L. Fleming SJ 64.3 2005 TED DLrNN Where Two or More Are Gathered community chapters It has been said, "Where two or more are gathered, there is politics." Though many religious communities have embraced communal discernment as their preferred means for electing leadership, they are still not immune to the pulls and trappings of politics. Seeking to hear the voice of the Spirit through communal discernment can, at its best, eclipse and far surpass the influence of politics. Communal discernment, however, no matter how well practiced, will neither eradicate politics nor guarantee that there will be no regressive pulls in chapters of election. But awareness of the differences between discernment and politics can help chapter participan~ts resist the forces of politics and secure the grace-filled opportunities of discernment. Ted Dunn, a clinical psychglogist, wrote for us in our 63.3 issue (July 2004). His address remains Comprehensive Consulting Services; 6209 Mid "Rivers Mall Drive, Suite 294; St. Charles, Missouri 63304. Review for Religgous When discernment and politics collide, how can chapter participants make sense of all the forces in play? During a chapter of election, what are some of the regressive urges that may work against a community's efforts at discernment? What are some of the differences between "political" conversations and "discerning" ones? These are questions I address in this article. We are not likely to rid ourselves of politics completely, but I am confident that, if communities commit themselves to communal discernment, they can grow in their capacity to use it well. From my years of facilitating communal discernment, I am confident that goodwill and good ways of channeling it can enhance discernment and diminish politicking. This, in turn, can help communities to seek God's will more fully and thereby discern their choice of leadership more wisely. In line with this I plan to point out some differences between discernment and politics from three angles, namely, numbers, powers of persuasion, and so-called winners and losers. But first I want to set the context by elaborating on regression (returning to old patterns). Regression often emerges during chapters of election and, if left unrecognized and unchecked, can blight a community's desire to put discernment ahead of politics. Regression in the Face of Discernment For a chapter to be a success, its participants should check their human propensities to constrict the movement of the Spirit, and instead work Collectively toward welcoming the Spirit present among them to liberate and enlighten. They should seek ways of enhancing their own spiritual freedom and that of the group, avoiding anything that might hinder it. They need to be alert to personal and group patterns of regression and strive to eliminate them. I would guess that every 64.3 200Y Dunn ¯ Where Two or More Are Gathered community has had, at one time or another, a dark moment in which its chapter of election fell far short of its best intentions and let, for example, politics take precedence over discernment. I would also guess that-- although such a moment tends to recede from the community's consciousness between chapters--it often returns at the beginning of the next chapter. It is as if the walls of the chapter hall hold the memories and, when the chapter is convoked, so too are the memories. Despite such experiences, or perhaps because of them, individuals and communities I am acquainted with have made courageous efforts to move beyond the pain of past elections and write new memories upon the walls. I have witnessed participants building new bridges, mending frayed relationships, offering and accepting olive branches, and all in all seeking greater unity. Communities yearn to grow in discernment and put forth their best green-gold efforts when given the opportunity. Yet I also know that, as in all growing, communities are at risk. They repeat old patterns of tension and vulnerability. As a psychologist I recognize that regression is a natural and normal response in the face of threat. It is a coping mechanism that people use when new ways of behaving seem shaky or are perceived as failing. Think of the first time you tried a new prayer form and it was not working for you. You likely sought refuge, at least temporarily, in the tried and true. Recall a return to your family of origin. Despite your growth in other relationships, in a difficult interaction with a relative you may have returned to a once-outlived means of coping (withdrawing, clashing, and so forth). Recall your community's initial efforts at the more fluid processes of communal discernment and the simulta_neous urges to return to the familiar confines of Robert's Rules and carefully orchestrated conversations. Review for Religious When it comes to elections, politics is what is most familiar to us. It is part of our culture and is no less a part of religious life. Discernment is newly learned and also countercultural behavior. And so, when tensions arise during a chapter, you have any number of urges to return to old patterns, the patterns of politics. You may have urges to-rally around your friends, to defend perceived "victims," to speak for those not speaking. You may want to tune out, or argue with what you do not want to hear, or go silent in the hope of being rescued by others more vocal. You may want to have the meeting outside the meeting (in the halls and over coffee) instead of in the assembly room. You may want to campaign for some, and against some others, and so on. The good news is that such urges do not have to be your destiny. Your next chapter presents you with the challenge and opportunity to write new memories on the walls of your assembly room. It is a chance to further reconcile and redeem the pain of past elections. It is a chance to weave new patterns of interacting into the collective experience of chapters of election and place discernment ahead of politics. But the undertow toward politics will, if left unrecognized, take away your freedom and wreak havoc upon your desire to grow beyond your past. If it is recognized, however, communities have the opportunity to catch themselves and choose instead the grace and gift of communal discernment. Politics as an Impediment to Discernment We humans have an insatiable appetite for politics. Enquiring minds want to know: Who's on first? Who's it Discernment is' newly learned and also coun~ercultural behavior. 64.3 2005 Dunn ¯ 14~bere Two or'More ~lre Gathered going to be? Who's ahead in the polls? In an election year, politics and politicians dominate the evening news, CNN, and the front page. Political talk is with us at meals and up and down hallways and sidewalks. Religious communities, it seems to me, are no less involved with politics. In fact, if politics means involvement, interest, and concern for how you govern yourselves, religious are just as political as any other segment of society. They desire to understand what is going on in the world, in the church, and in the community and to participate in shaping the future. Politics, then, has its good points, but it is important to understand its pitfalls and get beyond them in order to do the deeper work of communal discernment. One risk is that politics and discernment have definite similarities. Both lead to an informed vote in an election. Both seek understanding and involvement. In both methods, information serves to influence people and to moderate that influence. And both methods are about power. There are other commonalities as well, but there are definite distinctions to be drawn too. Where does politics end and discernment begin? Numbers. First let us talk numbers. Numbers sometimes talk long before people get acquainted with the candidates and their character. In the politics of our day, there are endless permutations of the numbers. Numbers are the heartbeat of American pre-election activity. Pollsters keep taking political pulses and making election prognostications. There are more permutations of polls than there are stats on the Super Bowl. Results are statistically projected hours before the polls close. Such results are not official, of course, but they cause people to think and say, "Why vote? It's a done deal." In discernment, however, the significance of numbers is little or none. In many discernment processes a Review for Religious member needs only one endorsement to enter into it. And entering is far more important than trying to forecast where you will end up. Entering the mystery, walking the Emmaus journey, searching out your future together by collectively seeking God's intentions--these things are not concerned with numbers. Numbers will not answer a community's quest for healing, yearnings for a stronger partnership, desires for deeper understanding, or efforts to resolve differences. Counting numbers, wondering how many votes you or someone else might get, will not help you hear the voice of the Spirit. You cannot take a poll to find out what God wants. Numbers at the moment of election have a different, though still secondary, importance. Ideally, numbers are the result of, not the means for, discernment. Ideally, they are the outcome that confirms the will of the Spirit mediated through the chapter. I do not know about your community, but in some communities, once the balloting begins, discernment goes out the window and people start listening to the numbers. They write the numbers down, tally the votes, and track who is getting what. Like a runaway train people start following the numbers instead of the Spirit. The numbers take over. It is important to work as a chapter body to prevent a numbers-oriented election. Facilitators need to intersperse .processes into the election itself to help the community discern its way through to the end. Ideally, the election process should be the culmination of the discernment process, not detached or separate from discernment. In my experience, when an election keeps the integrity of the discerning body and its discernment process intact, then numbers, if used at all, are of negligible importance. Pozver~ of Persuasion. In politics, power is .sought from a variety of sources through a variety of means. Power is 64.3 2005 Dunn ¯ Where Two or More ~qre Gathered found first in the money used for campaigning. Money pays for ads and buys favors from special-interest groups that in turn lobby for their candidates. In one form or another, money runs the machinery that shapes the information that people receive, which is of course the ultimate means of influence. In American politics "information is power," and, if you want to know who has it, "follow the money." While voters want information about what their candidates hope to accomplish, and while politicians vow that they will "stick to the issues," too often there is regression toward name-calling and mudslinging. Politicians know that there is great power in casting doubt upon their opponents. So-called "negative campaigning" persists despite the public outcry against it, in large part because research shows that when used skillfully it works. Political elections, as we have witnessed, are not about how you play the game; they are about winning, no matter the cost. Politics centers on persuasion as a means to attain desired outcomes. Spin doctors seek to persuade by parsing the truth. Political strategists provide different information for different target groups, strategically timing the leakage of news, all in an effort to sway specific voters. Party politics uses these powers of persuasion to garner support for their respective camps, which in turn support their candidates. Selective information to induce fear or call for party loyalty is among the powers of persuasion in American politics. In discernment, though, how you play the game and what kind of power you use make all the difference. The power of discernment rests on faith. It rests on your ability to pray, reflect, and journey together in such a way as to discover your collective truth, to experience the movement of the Spirit among yourselves. Paradoxically, Review for Religious the power of discernment is inversely related to persuading others or controlling the outcome. In fact, detachment from the outcome, rather than attempting to engineer the outcome, is a hallmark of discernment. Discernment requires conversations about the direction your community is moving, the issues you face, and the ideal team to facilitate the desired movement. It is about who can complement whom, not who is better than whom. It is not about camps competing around special interests. It is about cooperating in the interests of the whole. Instead of trying to convince others of your truth, communal discernment invites you to discover the community's collective truth. Discernment is not about campaigning, convincing, and cajoling, but about listening, sharing, and deepening the common understanding. Chapter participants are not chosen to elect favorite, candidates to represent personal interests, but rather to come up with a team of persons who together can best serve the interests of the entire community. I believe that the power of communal discernment is in direct proportion to a group's determination to be enlightened by one another and by the commitment of all to the common good. This power is present in direct proportion to your freedom, individually and collectively, to respond to the Spirit echoed in the voices of all the chapter members. It is present to the degree you are interiorly free from whatever might bind you, be it your loyalties to others, passions around your own agendas, fears of being hurt or hurting others, or haunting and hurting memories. It is present when people are free of 64.3 2005 Dunn ¯ Where Two or More Are Gathered prejudice and free of gossipy reputations, of labels that persist year after year. Being flee, however, does not mean an absence of anxiety and fears. Rather, it means a willingness to name, claim, and, if possible, work through your fears rather than succumb to them. It means acknowledging your desired outcomes while simultaneously relinquishing any efforts to control them. It means a willingness to enter the unpredictability and mystery of your personal and communal faith journey. If you are free enough to embrace a truth larger than your own--free of efforts to hide from uncomfortable truths or blind yourselves to a common good that may ask more of you than you want to give--then your power to discern is enhanced. The power of such spiritual freedom is yours to claim. No one can claim it for you or work towards it for you. Freedom is inherently yours to begin with. If you do this work collectively, if you maintain deep roots of knowledge, passion, and conviction while holding all things lightly, then you will have access to the Spirit moving through you and among you, The movement of the Spirit and your own search for enlightenment and understanding are at the heart of discernment. Discernment is the polar opposite of politics. It is a continuous focus on winning, not on having won and resting on our laurels. Winners and Losers. Let us talk about so-called winners and losers. Who is better? The St. Louis Rams or the Dallas Cowboys, the French or the Irish, African Americans or Caucasians or Hispanics, rich or poor, tall or short, women at the well or men at the "Y," a lilac ora rose? We humans are prone to thinking in categories and classes. We have carved up God's creation into categories. We have boxed and labeled the people and things of our world as good or bad, right or wrong, winners or losers. Review for Religious ¯ We have prejudices, biases, preconceived notions, assumptions, and conscious and subconscious judgments that put price tags on so many things that God looked at and said are "good." God sees us all as both blessed and broken, but we seem to view ourselves as good, better, best, less than good or less than evil, depending upon our looks, ethnicity, friends, affiliations, or supposed motives. Children not chosen for this or that often feel "excluded" and "hurt." Out of such feelings we form judgments and begin to think in terms of winners and losers. From facilitating many community discernments over the years, I consider all participants winners. All community members who are endorsed, who come to discernment gatherings, who respond to the call to serve in elected leadership are winners. They take risks that have brought hurts in the past and perhaps even made them say to themselves "Never again." COmmunal disdernment i~,~[fOiJ[: ~de" }in g women ~ ~or men ~who,brzn~ g together a complement of gifls tha~;~in its ~isimportant for ~he :enti@ ~com~u~ity. Those who participate in discernment are asked to reach deep inside themselves to find hope again, when staying disengaged would be easier. Individually and together they are winners as they extend themselves beyond their comfort zone in response to calls from their community. Conventional politics would suggest that those who are elected have the "right stuff" and those who are not elected do not. Communal discernment, however, is about electing women or men who bring together a complement of gifts that, in its unity, is important for the entire community. 64.3 200Y Dunn ¯ Where Two or More Are Gathered Not long ago my wife and I attended our daughters' graduations, Kelly from high school and Colleen from middle school. For the occasion we went out to buy them some flowers. The florist asked, "What are their colors?" I was taken aback, having expected to pick out bouquets from the showcase and be done with it. She escorted us to a refrigerator, showed us a vast array of flowers, and urged us to have a whiff and take a good look at them. Before long we had flowers and greenery and paper strewn over the counter. Other customers watched us try various combinations to see what would best fit each girl's particular likes and sense of beauty. There were lilacs, roses, and other flowers whose names escape me. In combination, some were not the right color and some not the right fragrance. Some got lost alongside others. All were beautiful in their own right, but some fit better than others in the bouquets. At last we had two unique bouquets, each beautiful, each saying what we wanted to say. In your next communal discernment, remember that every individual has a beauty all her own. Blessed and broken, gifted and flawed, they are on the same journey as you. Some combinations of their beauty will express what you want to say, what you hope leadership to be. Others will not. This makes them no less wonderful, no less worthy. Their beauty will find other bouquets. In your next discernment, honor all these women (or men) with your prayers. Support all of them with your encouragement. Affirm them for their courage in walking deep into discernment with you, opening themselves up in personal ways to you, to each other, and to God. Walk gently with them. Your next chapter of election will be a continuation of the work you have begun at earlier chapters. It presents you with an opportunity to grow in communal discernment and Review for Religious be more faithful on your personal and communal faith journey. Anticipate, identify, and resist any regressive tendencies. Keep the election a matter of the Spirit, not a matter of mere numbers. Do not let it be about winners and losers. You are all winners, for you are all on the same team. Be gentle with yourselves and with your mistakes, for mistakes will surely be made. In your efforts to write new memories on the walls, may the Holy Spirit be your guide, and, where two or more of you are gathered, may you find Jesus in your midst. The Transient Seed To go wherever you would lead Will mean ourselves to die, Forsaking self and every need For you, risen, on high. Buried with you, the transient seed Awaits your Spirit-cry Creating us anew, rubied By blood from Calvary. Walt Bado SJ 64.3 2005 MARIE DE LOURDES MATES Chapter Delegates, Once and Future ~onh~hne m qyu arleigtiieosn aanl dsu rpeesrpioonr saisbkileidti ems eo tfo c shpaepatekr delegates, my response was typically prophetic. I screamed into the phone: "What? Me? Why me? Don't you think I'm a bit too old for this? You're twenty-five years too late! I know a lot of people who could do a better job." She listened politely and then replied, "Well, will you at least think about it?" So I did, and for some reason I just could not say no. Father Robert Morneau's article (1977, almost thirty years ago) was suggested as the basis for what I might say. Since I did not have a copy of it, I began to make my own list of qualities a delegate should have. I came up with a dozen or so. To my surprise, when the article arrived I discovered that the future bishop and I were thinking along the same lines. I thought to myself, "Maybe I should have been a bishop!" Many of you could Marie de Lourdes Mates IHM, who has taught at all levels of K-12 and published various articles, resides at the IHM House of Prayer; 140 West Mill Street; Nesquehoning, Pennsylvania 18240. Review for Religious come up with a similar list. I admit, though, that I learned a great deal in getting this presentation ready and even experienced a kind of conversion. That is what I will share with you now. The first word that came to my mind was articulate. I wanted delegates who would speak out loud and clear. But almost immediately I had a second thought--Whoa! Suppose they go too far and destroy what our unique history has gifted us with. No, another thing that must be present is a listening ear. This slowed me down, and I pondered the word dialogical, which Bishop Morneau had used. I called upon Webster for help: "dialogue: a talking together, a conversation." Not sufficient! Definition 2: "an interchange and discussion of ideas, especially when open and frank, as in seeking mutual understanding and harmony." Perfect! In other words, the listening has to be of a special kind, but so also does the speaking. To be articulate means to speak easily and clearly; you have to be pretty well convinced about what you are saying. Let me interject here a little story about listening. An interaction years ago with a freshman girl stopped me in my tracks and made me realize I was not truly lis-tening. Her parents were divorced. Her father was out of sight. The thirteen-year-old and her mother lived together, but in time the mother became interested in another man. She left her teenage daughter to fend for herself every weekend while she traveled by plane to spend two days with him. When. the daughter told me this story, I tried to explain that her mother had needs also. She looked up at me with tear-filled eyes and said in a shaking voice "But what about me?" I knew at once I had failed to enter into her world. I have never for-gotten her words, and even now they haunt me, still find-ing it hard to really listen. 64.3 200.q Mates ¯ Chapter Delegates, Once and Future Our delegates need to speak easily and clearly, but they also need to listen with a compassionate desire to enter into the speaker's world, not necessarily agreeing but at least understanding. Besides speaking and listen-ing well, Bishop Morneau said delegates must have trust. I thought, "Oh, this is an easy one. Isn't it a given that members of a religious community have a deep abiding trust in each other, as their polite conduct habitually shows? The thing that stymied me was that Morneau went on to say that they must have trust also in themselves. I puzzled over this long and hard. I came to realize that persons who have trust in themselves will speak their own insights and convictions with a certain self-confidence. I realized, too, that to do this they must spend time and energy listening to others and be willing to say inside chapter what they say outside chapter. Coupled with trust is another virtue, desire for truth. Regardless of who speaks--a retired sister, a young novice, a former mother general, an infirm sister, an artist (musician, painter, sculptor, poet, and so forth), or just one of the rest of us--the delegate's desire for truth must help her listen and then evaluate. She needs to turn off the stream of consciousness that runs all day long and sometimes washes past others, hardly slowing down for them. Our delegates should be prophetic persons. The Old Testament prophets acquiesced to God's call only reluc-tantly. Consider the following. Isaiah says, "What a wretched state I'm in. I am a man of unclean lips." Review for Religious Jeremiah says, "Look, I do not know how to speak; I am a child." Jonah--well, he just ran away. But God was insistent. With Isaiah: "Let's see if this live coal touching your lips will help." With Jeremiah: "Don't say you are a child. Go, now!" With Jonah, a storm at sea begins to get him to pay some mind to God. Consider the great-est prophet of all, Jesus: "Father, if it be your will, let this chalice pass. However, not my will, but yours be done." Being prophetic does not appear to be a much-sought- after vocation. I am mentioning these things about prophets because the women we elect as delegates will automatically assume the role of prophet. They will be missioned by us to determine the future direction of our IHM commu-nity. If this direction is to be in accord with the will of God, certain characteristics should be evident. They should be women who are perceptive, sensitive to the here and now. We hope they will walk unshod the way of the lowest and the least. We want them to come up with new and exciting ideas for all of us--the old and infirm, the young and ambitious, those nearing retirement, those changing their apostolates. We want them to respond sensitively to the question "But what about me?" as each group asks it. We also want them to be sensitive to our roots and traditions, knowing enough of our history to stand firmly on the shoulders of the courageous holy women who were here before us. Prophets are courageous. Consider some from our own time. Dorothy Day, who did jail time for civil disobedi-ence and also (as Father Richard McSorley said) "led the way within the Catholic Church on solidarity with the poor, racial justice., all those big issues., she brought the name Catholic to all of them. These issues that pri-vate Catholics see as politics she saw as faith, and knew it had to come from faith and be alive with faith." 64.3 200~ Mates ¯ Cbapter Delegates, Once and Future Consider our foundress, Mother Theresa Maxis, who was forced to live outside the community she had worked so hard to establish. Consider Mother Teresa of Calcutta, who embraced lepers and opened her heart to the poor-est of the poor. Consider Joan Chittister, Benedictine sister, ' whose outcries for justice and peace have been heard and will continue to be heard by many around the world. Perhaps now as we prepare for the chapter of 2006, some new courageous happenings will occur. Courage can be manifested in all kinds of ways. It might be just bringing an issue to the forefront for consideration. It might be putting some relationships in jeopardy because of what some see only as boldness or outspokenness. The model delegate should be a person of vision-- but what exactly does that mean? It definitely does not mean they live in la-la land. Sometimes, however, I think that the term vision triggers a picture of someone out in space. So let us bring it down to earth. Simply, an IHM sister of vision sees something that many do not. That "something" could be anything from a cute idea to a unique dream. It could be something so commonplace as a one-on-one learning environment, only one teacher and one learner. It could be a duck farm. A friend called me one day and asked if she and her cousin could use my computer and set up a conference call with a con-struction company. I said yes, thinking it was a matter of great import. It turned out that he was just starting to plan a duck farm. His long-range plan was to raise ducks for gourmet restaurants. To me this seemed crazy, but when he promised me a duck dinner I thought--who knows?--that maybe in the not-too-distant future he would be a man of means. The sister who has vision will see value in what at first seems crazy to most people. I am suggesting that Review for Religious we have to look beyond the ends of our noses to deter-mine the best direction for our aging community. We need to have some answers for the young, the old, and the in-between in our community when they ask, "But, what about me?" Victor Hugo, author of Les Miserables and The Hunchback of Notre Dame, had this to say about visions: "Progress will be carried forward by a series of dazzling visions." I love that word "dazzling." The visions have to be startling; they have to awaken us and get us moving. Long before Victor Hugo, the prophet Habakkuk also had something to say about "the vision." I remember it from a time about twenty-five years ago. In her morning talk a speaker had created an air of excitement, but in the after-noon session the excitement disappeared. I left the assem- .,,. Prophetie delegates need t6 be pcrsoqs, of " ,de ray&;: especially script al prayer. bly feeling rather down, but I remembered the words of Habakkuk from the day's Scripture reading. It is time to hear those words again: Write down the vision clearly upon the tablets, so that one can read it readily. For the vision still has its time, presses on to fulfillment, and will not disappoint. If it delays, wait for it, it will surely come, it will not be late. (Hab 2:2-3) As I said, being a prophet is not a fun thing. Prophetic delegates have to work hard: read, study, do research. They have to make decisions, some very hard decisions. They have to make them decisively, with cer-titude (as Morneau says, referring to Newman), and then hold themselves responsible for what results. They need to be persons of deep prayer, especially Scriptural prayer. 64.3 200Y Mates ¯ Chapter Delegates, Once and Future Such prayer will illuminate their understanding of con-temporary issues. Dorothy Day can help us here. In her autobiography The Long Loneliness, she describes herself at the age of ten. "We lived in a house with an attic, and I spent hours one rainy Sunday afternoon reading the Bible. I remember nothing that I read, just the sense of holiness in holding the book in my hands. I did not know then that the Word in the Book and the Word in the flesh of Christ's humanity were the same, but I felt I was handling something holy." Dorothy's love of the Scriptures persisted throughout her lifetime and even-tually led to her conversion to Catholicism and to her lifelong work with the poor. Scriptural prayer should be the mainstay of every chapter member. It already plays a major role in all of our lives in the Christian Prayer that we pray three times a day. It would be worth the while of every chapter delegate, in fact every sister who puts her name on the list of nom-inees, to ponder well the words of Hebrews 4:12: "The Word of God is something alive and active: it cuts like any double-edged sword but more finely; it can slip through the place where the soul is divided from the spirit, or joints from the marrow; it can judge the secret emo-tions and thoughts." And then suddenly in verse 13 it switches from the Word of God as an "it" to the Word of God as "the one": "No created thing can hide from him; everything is uncovered and open to the eyes of the one to whom we must give account of ourselves." Dorothy Day at age ten was assuredly an inspired person. You might wonder why I have referred to Dorothy Day more than once. When I was a junior in high school, I joined the Martin de Porres Club at Harrisburg Catholic High. Every Thursday my friends and I traveled to an inner-city house run by a woman named Mary Frecon. There we taught little African American children, helping Review for Religious them with their school work and interacting with them. One Thursday I noticed that the work space was spruced up as if for something important to happen. About the middle of the session, Mary came through accompanied by an elderly woman with white hair. They simply paused for a few minutes, and I simply ignored them, being involved with the children and their work. Afterwards Mary came back and exclaimed, "Do you know who that was?" I shrugged my shoulders. She said, "That was Dorothy Day." I shrugged my shoulders again. Later on in life, I got to know about Dorothy Day. I have never forgotten her favorite quotation, taken directly from Dostoyevsky's The Possessed: "All my life I have been haunted by God." To that I add: All my life I have been haunted by Dorothy Day! To me her life seems the per-fect response to the question of the poor, the addicted, the sick, the helpless when they ask "But what about me?" Morneau ends his article about chapters by portray-ing the delegate as a wounded healer, the term that Henri Nouwen had introduced. Most of us would admit to being wounded people, people who have experienced some deep hurts, which sometimes seem beyond heal-ing. But out of those hurts can come deep compassion for others who are hurting. Without being told, one can sense it. Compassion heals, not only the one to whom the compassion is directed but also the one who is showing compassion. Hopefully, the delegates we choose will be women of compassion. Persons of compassion do not make judgments on the motives of others. If you have ever been the object of judgmentalism, your experience helps you avoid inflicting such destructiveness on others. A delegate should be able to balance tolerance of per-sons with an intolerance of falsity. Do not be dismayed if you are chosen to be a chap-ter delegate and you do not have all these qualities. It 64.3 2005 Mates ¯ Chapter Delegates, Once and Future will be an elegant sufficiency if the chapter assembly itself contains individuals who together have these qual-ities. It would be a miracle if anyone had all of them. Here let me quote, what Morneau quotes toward the end of his article (Micah 6:8): "This is what Yahweh asks of you: only this, to act justly, to love tenderly, and to walk humbly with your God." I would emphas!ze the first challenge: "to act justly." I believe it encompasses everything that has been said up to this point. If we work to act justly, to DO justice, everything else will fall into place. As a community we are already becoming more involved in works of justice. We are responding to the poor and the needy here in the United States and in Haiti, Peru, and Chile. We are attentive to the question "But what about me?" and are alleviating pain and suffering where we are able. One day in Louisville, Kentucky, at Fourth and Locust, Thomas Merton suddenly realized that he loved all people and no one was alien to him. As a community we are growing in that same realization. For me there occurred a profound conversion to justice in the sum-mer of 1973, while I was studying physics at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute in Troy, New York. One weekend a Franciscan sister took me along to her motherhouse in Buffalo. We visited Niagara Falls, and I was duly impressed. But later we drove upstream to view the Niagara River, the flow of which creates the falls--and mesmerized me. The river's swiftness took my breath away. The sunlight glittering off the surging waters filled me with a kind of supernatural joy, while their force to sweep everything before it--and me too if I let it--fright-ened me. I have never forgotten that impression. The memory awakes in me every time I read the prophet Amos (5:24, l~SV):."But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream." Review for Religious Can you imagine what our world would be like if more and more people let their justice roll down like a river? For us I think the time is ripe. Let's ROLL! The Crossing John 6:17 The crossing is hazardous: fragility 6fold wood in a fretful sea, the weight of oars against contentious waves, implacable darkness, absence of horizon, ominous thunders. Then - the skin grows cold with terror - like a brooding spirit he comes gravely across the water: fathomless radiance, first light of a new world. They stammer in recognition and welcome him into the boat where no one dares question what darkness he has crossed to bring them safe to land. Kate Martin OSC 64.3 2005 MELANNIE SVOBODA Community Chapters: Seven Personal Beliefs y personal beliefs about this chapter we are ~. iv .1. beginning amount to seven, the perfect biblical number. 1. This chaplet won't be easy. I say this not because I have some secret knowledge of what will transpire here these next few days. I say it because this chapter is a part of life and life is not easy. As we know, in the Bible the primary image of life is a journey, and any journey is fraught with difficulties. It takes courage even to embark on a journey, because we must leave where we are, we must let go of the known. We cannot start on a journey and stay put at the same time. Once we have taken to the road, we must negotiate unexpected turns, steer clear of dangerous potholes, plan regular "pit stops," devise detours around roadblocks, interpret road signs, and check the fuel gauge regularly. (Recently I saw a cartoon of two men walking away from their car. They had run Melannie Svoboda SND, provincial of the Sisters of Notre Dame of Chardon, Ohio, presented this material as part of the opening of their chapter of December 2003. Her address is 13000 Auburn Road; Chardon, Ohio 44024. Review for Religious out of gas. One man says to the other, "I thought the E meant Enough!" It is one thing to see signs, another to interpret them correctly!)Journeying is hard work. Small wonder that we are often tempted to forsake the life journey by going back into the past (it is familiar and feels safe), by stopping altogether, or by taking a side road that is easier but leads to no place worth going. At this chapter let us recommit ourselves to the hard work of daily living, to the hard work of our earthly jour-neying. And let us commit ourselves to the hard work of this particular chapter--four days of undeniable self-discipline, the discipline of sitting, listening, speaking, praying, discerning, waiting in line. Talk about modern asceticism! 2. This chapter will be fun. It will be fun because we are here--and just look at us! What a unique group we are! Has God got a sense of humor or what? This chapter will be fun because where we are there is bound to be some joy and laughter. When we did the recent inter-views for the Appreciative Inquiry, how many of us said that one reason we were drawn to the Sisters of Notre Dame in the first place was their joyfulness! This chap-ter will be fun also because the planning committee has thought up some fun activities for us to do. But, most of all, it will be fun because we know who is ultimately in charge of this chapter. Not me, not our facilitator, but God! Yes, at this chapter we will discuss some seri-ous issues. Yes, we will make some serious decisions. Yes, there may even be a few tears as we try to express what is deepest in our hearts. But I hope we will do the work of this chapter with a lightness of heart that comes from our charism: that deep experience of God's goodness and provident care. Jesus is at this chapter. Maybe we should have made a folder with his name on it, Jesus is here in word, in 64.3 2005 Svoboda ¯ Community Chapters 254 sacrament, in each other. It is in Jesus' name that we are gathered here, and, as Jesus promised, "Where two or three are gathered in my name, there I will be!" Jesus is with us. Emmanuel. That fact cannot help but bring smiles to our faces! 3. This chapter needs me. This chapter needs every sis-ter regardless of her age, education, health, ministry, temperament, background, mood. It needs every sister regardless of her chosen level of participation. In the name of all of us, then, I welcome every sister to speak. And I welcome every sister to listen and to pray. Throughout these days we will have times of formal dis-cussion. But we will also have times of informal sharing as we gather around the coffee urn, eat lunch together, meet in the hall, or ride back and forth in a car. The Spirit can use even these times to move hearts. Perhaps I may never say anything at the open mike, but I can still influence this chapter by some.thing I say in my small group or even while standing in line for the restroom. 4. This chapter must be rooted in the real world. God is found only in the real world--not some fantasy world of our own making. No, in the real world. And what does the real world look like? First of all, it is a world of incomparable beauty--from stars to snowflakes, roses to mountains, sunsets to the Grand Canyon. So much beauty! It is a world filled with innumerable people of goodwill--in all lands, in all cultures--people who live their lives with faith and love. But the real world is also a world steeped in war and violence. Historians tell us the 20th century was the bloodiest century in human his-tory. Ours is a world of the obscenely unfair distribu-tion of the world's limited resources--where 1.2 billion people live on less than one dollar a day. The Jesuit Jon Sobrino calls this reality a "macro blasphemy." It is a world filled with hunger, poverty, greed, corruption, and Review for Religious wanton disregard for the sanctity of human life. I could go on. But, the fact remains, this is the world into which Jesus was born over two thousand years ago, the world in which he still lives. And it is the world he calls us to serve today. This chapter, therefore, must acknowledge both the beauty and the ugliness of the real world. It must take into consider-ation both the light and the darkness in the world--the world not only out there, but the world in here, in °,. ,,. ~ .~' .' our community and in our own hearts. We began our chapter with a reconciliation service. That was no accident. May forgiveness and rec-onciliation be an underlying theme of everything we do here these days--and beyond. 5. This chapter can't do everything, but it must do some-thing. When we contemplate all the needs of the world, we can become overwhelmed. So many voices crying out for help! Yet our resources are so limited. At times the inces-sant cry of the poor can even paralyze us. We can find ourselves crying, "We can't do everything!" And that is true. We cannot. But, for God's sake, let us do something. I believe this chapter will do something. I do not know what, but it will. That something might be the passing of a proposal dear to my heart--or the defeat of one I cher-ish. Maybe this chapter will result in a single step in a new direction or an old one. Or maybe this chapter will begin to name the content of our next province plan, the focus of future province summer assemblies, or the agenda for the next provincial leadership team. Whatever this chapter does, I hope and pray it will result in some definite corporate movement forward. But °our chapter i ith recOnciliation service? 64.3 2005 Svoboda ¯ Community Chapters I also hope this chapter will challenge me on a deeply personal level. I hope it will make demands upon me, stretch my thinking, and cause me to question some of my daily choices--and cause me to alter them in per-haps subtle but very real ways. 6. This chapter will not be perfect. That is because we are not perfect. And imperfect people do not a perfect chapter make! Sometimes I hear sisters say, "I don't expect much from this chapter, because all we do is talk about the same stuff over and over again. I'm tired of it!" Well, I'm not! I am not tired of the fact that we often end up talking about the "same stuff"--like community, ministry, prayer, the vows, mission. I am not surprised or disappointed either, because that "stuff" lies at the very core of our identity as women religious. The way I see it, we will always be talking about these things--we should be! Why? Because we are on a journey, and, as we go forward, life will continuously challenge our under-standing of who we are and what we should be about. Could we ever exhaust the topic of prayer? No. Will we ever be "finished" with mission? No. Will we ever be able to say, "Well, we have no more problems with community living." Or, "Well, we've got poverty down pat now, so let's move on to something else. How about chastity?" No. In the novel The Secret Life of Bees, August, a middle-aged black woman, says to the little girl Lily, "There is nothing perfect. There is only life." We could say something similar: there is no perfect chapter. There is only this chapter. The feast of Christmas reminds us that Jesus came into our broken and messy world. He did not wait for the ideal time to come. Let us not let our hopes for the ideal chapter prevent us from doing some-thing good with this real one. 7. This chapter must be about loving. Let there be no mistake: we are gathered here these four days for one Review for Religious purpose only: to become better lovers. That is the bot-tom line. This chapter must help us to love better the incredible God who seduced each one of us into mak-ing a lifelong commitment of "chastity, poverty, and obe-dience according to the spirit and content of the Constitutions of the Sisters of Notre Dame." God seduced us. I know of no better word to describe the experience we all underwent. As consecrated religious we have the duty to keep ourselves in this ardent, pas-sionate, and dangerous state of loving. May this chapter rekindle our wholehearted and reck-less love for God, for Jesus. May it remind us that we are partners with Jesus in his mission--not because we have signed up for a cause, but because we have said a loving yes to a person. May this chap-ter rekindle our love for the. church. Oh, the church! Our poor, poor church! The terri-ble scandals! The unspeakable crimes! The betrayal, the deceit! But may we remember that this church is still our church. It is still Christ's church. As Archbishop Sean O'Malley, of Boston, said at his installation ceremony, "though we are living through a ~ad chapter in the church's history, we must recall that it is a chapter, not the whole book!" And then he said these profound words: "We come here today to ask God to make our pain redemptive." What fitting words for us, as Sisters of Notre Dame who have a 153-year-old history of being marked by the cross and a 153-year-old tradition of loy-alty to the church. And, finally, may this chapter rekindle our love and devotion to one another. May it remind us that, by mak- , H'a~v .e. .w. e :ever tho:u g h t ¯of a chapter as having onepuNoseonlY) :to become ,better.lovers ? 64.3 200Y Svoboda * Community Chapters ing our vows, we have bound ourselves to one another for the term of our whole lives. We have promised to live religious life not in the abstract, but within this partic-ular, concrete congregation, the Sisters of Notre Dame. For most of us that means being embedded in the province of Christ the King of Chardon, Ohio. We live in a culture that deifies privacy, individualism, and con-trol of one's destiny. Such a culture desperately needs our witness of community, the witness of diverse indi-viduals living and working together--selflessly and joy-fully-- in Jesus' name to bring about the kingdom of God. My final prayer is a simple one. May this chapter rekindle in us the hope-filled daring of St. Julie, of Sister Aloysia, and of those countless sisters who have gone before us. And may our hope-filled daring be an inspi-ration for those Sisters of Notre Dame who will come after us--in whatever country they may be. In his apos-tolic exhortation Vita consecrata (§110), Pope John Paul says these words to us: "You have not only a glorious history to remember and recount, but also a great history to be accomplished." May this chapter be one small step toward the accomplishment of that great history. 258 Reflection Questions 1. What are the personal beliefs I would list about an upcoming chapter in my congregation? 2. What are some of the ways that we, could bring a sense of joy and a sense of passion into the ordinary busi-ness of a chapter? Review for Religious MARIE BRINKMAN Invisible-- Even to Ourselves? It comes as something of a shock to learn that some people of the Catholic faith community do not know what we are up to--we women reli-gious, that is. Engrossed in ministry as we are most of the time and in close touch with asso-ciates, colleagues, and other friends who by now take for granted our attire and our social or pro-fessional habits, we hardly realize that some still wonder where we have gone or why we live as we do.~ Others see almost nothing of our pre-sent community life or our ministries born of renewal, for we have made ourselves invisible. Unless they happen to know one or two us per-sonally, young women see little of the differ-ence we make to the church and less to attract them to the vowed life we lead. This is a claim many of us might question or debate, but few young women are knocking at our doors to give themselves to our enterprise. ] 259 I :. Marie Brinkman SCL wrote for us in 1971 and 2001. She may be addressed at Sisters of Charity; 4200 South Fourth Street; Leavenworth, Kansas 66048. 64.3 2005 Brinlrman * Invisible ~ Even to Ourselves? I want a other generation Of sisters for the ture mission and life of our community? This is not the place or time to raise moot questions about discarded religious symbolism. Options have been made available, freedom to discern how we will dress and where or with whom we will live in relation to ministries that we believe witness to the gospel. Yet, forty years after the beginning of our renewal, people ask if we are going to survive as vowed communities or congregations. How have we failed to convey to ,:~ them that we are not only alive and well but also are planning for a future even more vigorous and effective than our past? Given our reduced numbers and what some perceive as a disappear-ing act, that may sound like a pipe dream: Women's intu-ition, unreliable. Wishful thinking. Plain presumption. We stand open to such charges, but we do not accept them. Our young sisters are realists and pose questions of their own. Let me mention a few I encountered as we. were preparing for our sixteenth general chapter. In the reports from the council, from task forces, and from standing committees, notes from sisters fifty-five and younger were given careful attention. Calling themselves "Between Alpha and Omega," these sisters--who stand between the community's past and future--asked about the quality of community life, the diffusion of ministries, and a "visioning process" for looking at our future. A few paradoxes appeared as well as concerns we should all share. Repeatedly they asked for direction from com-munity leadership. ¯ Does the small size of local houses limit choices of how we can live in community? Review for Religious ¯ Are local communities willing to support a new kind of associate program allowing young people to live with some of us for a limited or extended time? ¯ How can we envision the future of relationships between SCLs and HCLs (our North American sis-ters and our hermanas of Latin America) and between our sponsored works and new ministries? That is, how can we deepen our unity of mission?2 Questions from the Associate Program director sug-gest the need for greater unity with the laity with whom we have intentionally allied ourselves for the past twenty years. Ties have been forged, and leadership within our institutions has been handed over; the identity and roles of our 180 associates are not so clear. One of them asked me how they might become more aware of the issues we face in chapter and beyond. That suggests a need for better communication and stronger collaboration with our associates--a stage other communities have already reached and gone beyond.3 A fundamental question the director of vocation min-istry posed to chapter delegates was a challenge that implied more than prayer and moral support. She asked us to ask ourselves: "Do I want another generation of sis-ters for the future mission and life of our community?" A firm yes in reply would bring a pledge to tithe a percent-age of time for the effort. Extrapolating from her recom-mendations suggests ways of committing time and talent. For example, the communication office for promotion of religious life in every channel of the media could draw on the volunteer services of active retired sisters. Houses of hospitality throughout the community could use the services of partially employed or volunteer sisters.4 A startling question came from the director of ini-tial formation, speaking in chapter on behalf of the fifty-five- and-under group. She wondered whether we realize 64.3 200~ Brinkman ¯ Invisible --Even to Ourselves? that, as women religious deepening our renewal of mis-sion and ministry, we are living "on the fringe" of the church in its present hierarchical operation,s Given facts from which the question comes, I would have replied that on the contrary we are at the heart of the church renewing itself. It is a matter of perspective, but I think she is the more realistic about the present and a consid-erable piece of the future. During a chat after an inter-congregational gathering, a novice, expressing what she felt, said in effect: "Where's our vision? Let's not be dis-tracted by a future of diminishing numbers and advanc-ing age. I want to hear us talk about the present and our potential and what we can do now to make a new future come to be.''6 She wondered whether so many small dwellings and so little cultural diversity can offer com-munity to new members. That is the voice of new life and promise. That is the echo of our founders, who knew nothing but risk and challenge. What they did we can do on new frontiers and in new ways. In her report a community councilor considered our progress in living out the vision statement of the 1998 general chapter, pledging us "to love the poor, to love one another, to live simply, and to unite the whole of our lives in the poor and loving Christ." Some of her questions challenged us to assess our lives in the light of priorities we have set for ourselves: to partner with the poor for mutual transformation, to simplify our lives in the spirit of our founders, and to make our local com-munity a welcoming experience and genuine support for each member--rather than a comfort to ourselves. Other questions challenged us to deeper awareness of what globalization has brought to the poor, to all our ministries, and to the life and mission of the church. They asked us to examine what "gospel values" and "work for systemic change" mean--in terms, for example, Review for Religious of personal and house budgets. They asked if we wish to--or even can--remain an ethnically homogenous group in the face of cultural diversity that is literally changing the face of the country we live in. Does our advocacy for the poor change us as it should?7 The councilor's questions carried implications. We may not be aware of who we really are or have become. Deeply different experiences of religious life and com-munity living divide us even within our day-to-day unity. The reconciliation we struggled to achieve during renewal chapters allows for a degree of hid-den complacency. Different perspectives on how our ministries--individual and community-sponsored-- manifest our mission may hinder further transforming action. Do we know what we are capable of and to what the Spirit now calls us? It is only fair to remark here that the chapter confronted these and other prob-ing questions persistently and with no little vision and courage. Writing the story of our community's last fifty years, I have learned something of the potential residing in institutions we sponsor and in various ways still staff. Their growth over these decades of diminishment reveals what women have always done in times of retrenchment: put people first, get purposes clear, find means where there were none, and never take no for an answer. The deluge of facts and figures took shape in patterns of change and renewal that most congrega- 64.3 2005 Brinkman ¯ Invisible -- Even to Ourselves? tions could duplicate or surpass. They include: ¯ mergers and coordinated systems of parochial schools, moving from strength of programs into lay administra-tion and staffing, and continuing commitment to under-served or inner-city areas ¯ the maturing of a small liberal-arts college for women into a coeducational university offering baccalaureate and masters' degrees to working adults, getting under-prepared minority students ready for college, educating youth to service ¯ incorporation of hospitals--regional leaders in health-care-- under a centralized health-services system com-mitted to community education and the care of all persons in need regardless of their ability to pay ¯ operating clinics staffed by sister or lay administrators and volunteer professionals to serve uninsured families and individuals ¯ transforming homes for parentless children into com-plex professional partnerships for treatment, care, and schooling of emotionally disturbed youngsters in both residential and day programs ¯ staffing missions in Latin America through forty years of growth into native leadership in formation and expan-sion of catechetical and healthcare ministries. As separate incorporation and lay boards for hospitals, homes, and the unive~'sity became advisable and advan-tageous, community sponsorship maintained the charism of the Sisters of Charity of Leavenworth through strong programs of mission integration. Certainly such collab-orationand continued presence in institutions that serve cities, states, and regions affirm an identity and confirm a religious mission. Are numbers, uniform dress, and common quarters necessary for recognition and symbolic significance to those who care anything about it? If not, what then is lacking? Why are those who retain such out- Review for Religious ward signs drawing young candidates, and why are we who faithfully minister without them relatively invisible? Individual ministries have witnessed to the gospel and offered religious presence in unprecedented ways during the last four decades. Pastoral ministry drew early numbers; women took leading roles in liturgical renewal, youth ministry, and the adaptation of the RCIA to cate-chesis and religious formation. Degrees in theology, min-istry, and canon law led sisters to chancery offices and marriage tribunals, to social services and diocesan hous-ing, and to spiritual direction and retreat centers. Choices of hospital chaplaincy, ministry to the dying and their families, guidance in holistic health, and counseling of delinquents, single parents, and families meant personal encounters that called on a deep prayer life and com-munity bonds. More rare but equally demanding have been calls to scholarship, writing, and the creative arts. Potentially paradigmatic in their effectiveness and extent are individual ministries to AIDS patients, admin-istration of mission and even city parishes in the West, and repair and renovation of houses for poor families in urban areas. Partnering with civic agencies is integral to such ministries. Our Office of Social Justice and Peace has allied our communi~ for these thirty years with the lobbying forces of Network, with religious and lay groups committed to creating a sustainable environment and combating systemic poverty and oppression, and with the humanitarian offices of the United Nations. Such collaboration is common to most religious congrega-tions. The community's leadership has allied us with the Charity Federation and the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR) in their proactive agendas of renewal and mission. All of these ministries and alliances are familiar to professed religious. To allude to them is to make a point, 64.3 2005 Brinkman ¯ Invisible --Even to Ourselves? 266 namely, that the renewed unity of mission and ministry that many now seek and a renewed visibility in service to the church consist in much more than celebrating our differences and prioritizing our use of limited resources. Our unity and visibility consist, on the other hand, in more than freedom to diversify our ministries in part-nering with the poor. Making our mission and commu-nity manifest requires that we discern the Spirit's call to all women religious who believe that in their unity the people of God have a unique source of power. Our vis-ible unity must become the sign of Christ and his church that religious life is meant to be. Our unity is a crucial response to the Spirit, whose power alone can transform the church and turn back the global tide of cultural enmity and systematized violence. One of the foundations for our own faith in our future is the solid work of renewal that has continued through decades of loss and diminishment and through a period of relative immaturity in dealing with new free-doms to dress, drive, reside, and relax as we chose. This renewal effort hungers for deeper prayer life while seek-ing more effective channels of action. This renewal effort calls for community bonds that will hold firm across dis-tances and separations. Once realized, it is communion, the ultimate grace of vowed life on earth. The unity we seek requires deliberate decisions like these, adaptable to our individual communities: ¯ To find common ground for all our ministries, individ-ual and communal, in the church's mission to transform social and economic structures of oppression into resources of human growth. This means conscious commitment to uncover and combat causes of the suffering we constantly work to alleviate. ¯ To create a community culture that is welcoming and visible to young women who may desire to live and work Review for Religious with us for varying periods of time as associates com-mitted to the gospel. This means opening certain con-vents to women of various ethnic and educational backgrounds willing to learn of our charism and mission without seeking a vowed life. ¯ To make of our community communications a min-istry (rather than simply sources of information), a min-istry that lets our various publics know that all our ministries are part of the broad mission of the church on earth. Admirable models of print and electronic media exist that show salaried personnel and volunteer workers dedicatedly pursuing the goals of the religious commu-nities that own or sponsor the various large or small institutions and initiatives. ¯ To seek new ways of bringing gospel values into the national conversation: new forms of education at all lev-els (like the Jesuits' Cristo Rey schools), or public lec-tures and dialogue inspired by the community's mission (like the Benedictines' Atchison Threshold or the Global Institute at Leavenworth's University of Saint Mary). This means collaborating imaginatively and being will-ing to take some risks. ¯ To seek collaborators among associates, alumni/ae, and other friends for ventures into the public arena that do not depend on financial support or common allegiances. This means engaging partners as Vincent de Paul and Louise de Marillac and other founders of apostolic con-gregations did, perfecting the art of bridge building between those with means and those without. ¯ To create offices of mission and ministry that assist sisters in transition or nearing retirement to discern where best to contribute their services, within commu-nity- sponsored institution( or in partnership with sisters and associates in other activities that can use their help. This may well mean active/retirement residences for the 64.~ 200~ Brinkman * Invisible ~ Even to Ourselves? mutual support of those more active and less active. If we energetically choose some paths like these to a renewed unity of mission and ministry in our communi-ties, a new visibility will surely follow. Notes t A case in point is John Fialka's Sisters: Catholic Nuns and the Making of America (St. Martin's Press) and Ken Woodward's review in the New York Times Book Review. 2 Sister Elizabeth Youngs SCL, "Between Alpha and Omega," Sisters of Charity of Leavenworth Report for the Sixteenth Chapter, June 2004, pp. 117-119. 3 Sister Sharon Smith SCL, "Associates Sisters of Charity of Leavenworth," in SCL Sixteenth Chapter, pp. 105-107. 4 Sister Sharon Smit,h SCL, "Vocation Ministry," in SCL Sixteenth Chapter, pp. 99-101. s Sister Mary Beth Minges SCL, "Initial Formation. 1998-2004," in SCL Sixteenth Chapter, pp. 102-104. 6 Conversation with Sister Erica Berg SCL, May 2004. 7 Report from Sister Constance Phelps SCL, community councilor 1998-2004, in SCL Sixteenth Chapter, pp. 16-25. ,Review for Religious DORIS GOTTEMOELLER Living in Community: Continuing the Conversation Scix years ago I published an article titled "Living in ommunity: Beginning the Conversation." In it I suggested that the unwillingness or inability of contem-porary religious congregations to discuss this aspect of our way of life may well be our Achilles' heel, the point of vulnerability that diminishes our integrity and threat-ens our future. The article included some definitions, theological underpinnings for community living, sup-portive spiritual practices, reflections on the role of lead-ership in creating and sustaining community, and some special challenges.1 The dozens of responses to this article that I received from readers in the United States and abroad convince me that I touched on a neuralgic point. I would say the responses fall into three categories: (1) Yes, you have touched on a vital topic, tell us what to do; (2) Yes, you have touched on a vital topic, but it is too late--we have lost too much to ever regain a commitment to commu- Doris Gottemoeller RSM last wrote for us in our 62.2 issue of 2003. Her address remains Catholic Healthcare Partners; 615 Elsinore Place; Cincinnati, Ohio 45202. 64.3 200Y Gottemoeller ¯ Living in Community nity living; and (3) No, you do not know what you are talking about; it is the wrong issue and the wrong premise. In these pages I would like to dialogue with these groups. "Tell Us What to Do" The first two groups affirm the significance of com-munity living, but seek direction for its revitalization, so I will respond to them together. Several authors offer helpful insights. In a talk given to the National Religious Vocation Conference Study Days in September 1999, Nancy Schreck OSF addressed "The forces that push us toward and pull us away from community.''2 She begins with the assumption that community involves persons living together in shared space with shared resources, not in order to re-create family relationships, but in order to create the possibility of a radical following of Jesus. She develops a force field analysis in which com-peting forces or energies impinge on the reality of com-munity. The driving forces that she identifies include cosmic awareness, the struggle with diversity, the need for prophetic witness, the action of the Spirit, the iden-tity of religious life, mission effectiveness, a new desire in the members, the desire of new members, and lim-ited resources. The forces that move against community include paradigm paralysis, U.S. mainstream culture, patriarchal influence, drift, lowest-common-denomina-tor performance, adjustments made in good faith, lack of need, lack of energy, community as an event, ability of members, public witness, the asceticism of personal growth, and participation in multiple communities. This is not the place to analyze these competing forces. They are, however, part of the ambiance of religious life today, and have to be taken into consideration in any effort to energize community living. Her article could be a won- Review for Religious derful starting point for a conversation in any local com-munity or congregation. Another analysis of the current reality comes from women religious under fifty in their newsletter Giving VOICE. The December 1999 issue addresses this topic in a number of thoughtful reflections) The editor, Jan Hayes RSM, reports that the editorial team received "an avalanche" of responses to the questions: How do you define community? Does it include communal living or doesn't it? VVhat is your experience of communal living? VV-hat is it that you bring to group living situ-ations? What is it that you need? Does communal liv-ing add to the vitality of the larger community or doesn't it? Is communal living still an integral part Do ,we findit~ helpful to compare' the loosening of communal bonds: in American society tO the ~ame phenomenon in 'women's ,religious life ? of religious life? Space precludes summarizing all of the excellent contributions on this issue, both in the articles and in the comments received from emails and letters to the editor. The overall tenor of the contributions, however, affirms the centrality of communal living to the sisters' understanding of their vocation and their desire to grow in this dimension of their life. The sociologist Mary Johnson SNDdeN addressed the issue in these pages in her article titled "Bowling Alone, Living Alone: Current Social Contexts for Living the Vows.''4 She responds to an article by Robert D. Putnam titled "Bowling Alone: America's Declining Social Capital"S and to my earlier article. Putnam's the-sis is that there has been a .loosening of communal bonds across U.S. society in the last thirty years. His provoca- 64.3 2005 Gottemoeller ¯ Living in Community 272 five title comes from his observation that persons tend to bowl alone or in small groups today, rather than joining leagues, which require regular attendance. He has pre-sented this viewpoint in Vghite House conferences and national workshops and in other publications as well, and he has been quoted frequently. In Putnam's analysis, communal bonds, norms, and networks constitute "social capital" that facilitates coordination and cooperation for mutual benefit. He cites evidence of decline in religious involvement, labor-union membership, involvement in parent-teacher associations, and volunteering in civic, fraternal, and women's organizations like the Red Cross, the Boy Scouts, the Shriners, the Jaycees, and the League of Women Voters. He acknowledges that groups like the Sierra Club, the National Organization for Women, and the American Association of Retired Persons have seen a dramatic rise in membership in recent decades. But, as Johnson notes, while the political clout of these orga-nizations is considerable, the nature of involvement is vastly different from the organizations discussed previ-ously. Putnam says: "For the vast majority of their mem-bers (Sierra, NOW, AARP, and so forth), the only act of membership consists of writing a check for dues or per-haps occasionally reading a newsletter. Their ties, in short, are to common symbols, common leaders, and perhaps common ideals, but not to one another. From the point of view of social connectedness, the Environmental Defense Fund and a bowling league are just not in the same category." Similarly, Johnson adds, "a group of friends that meets quarterly, a prayer group that meets monthly, and a support group that meets weekly are just not in the same category as a c.ommunity that lives under the same roof and interacts daily." Johnson goes on to compare the loosening of communal bonds in American society to Review for Religious the same phenomenon in women's religious life. As evi-dence she cites research findings, funded by the Lilly Foundation, from a national survey of women who entered apostolic, monastic, and evangelical orders since 1965. Her data, based on responses from 70 percent of the women's institutes (whose membership constitutes 84 percent of the sisters in the United States), indicate that 69 percent of religious houses consist of one or two sisters. When asked "If you had your preference right now, with how many sisters would you prefer to live?" these post-Vatican II sisters responded as follows: with none (11%); with one other sister (14%), with two other sisters (12%); in a group of 4-7 sisters (45%); in a group of 8-10 sisters (6%); in a group of 11-15 sisters (2%); in a group of 16-20 sisters (4%); in a group of more than 20 sisters (6%). The gap between what sisters experience and what they would prefer is intriguing. No doubt the restrain-ing forces cited by Schreck above would help explain the disparity. There is much more in Johnson's article, but overall she believes that "the work of sharply defining and rebuilding community is essential to the mission and future of apostolic religious life in the United States and other nations where religious life struggles to free itself from the hegemonic hold of middle-class values." This probably summarizes the opinion of most of the respon-dents in this first group. Now to another viewpoint. "Wrong Issue, Wrong Premise" The most explicit argument is voiced by Barbara Fiand SNDdeN in Refocusing the Vision: Religious Life into the Future.6 In chapter 4 she differs strongly with Johnson and me (pp. 147-149). Citing both of our articles, she accuses us of a bias toward living together and a "high-handed" rejection of other experiences, saying that some- 64.3 2005 Gottemoeller ¯ Living in Community thing new is evolving from the grassroots which needs to be taken into consideration. Because of the diversity of living situations today, she says, "the whole tenor of what used to be called 'community living' has changed." She adds that the alleged desire of potential new members for residential community living needs to be probed fur-ther lest it be mistaken for an adequate reason for becom-ing a religious. Finally, she suggests that Johnson's bias toward community living prejudices her as a professional investigator. Fiand seems to believe--as do others with whom I have spoken--that promoting communal living today would be an example of restorationism, a regrettable regression into some prerenewal version of religious life. It is regarded as giving way to nostalgia, a selective mem-ory about the benefits and joys of living together. Nostalgia screens out, she says, the struggles and dys-functions that were part of the reality. In response I would suggest that to restore an earlier practice with a renewed understanding of its value and with suitable adaptation to changing circumstances can be a valuable retrieval. Others object to efforts to restore community living on historical grounds. They charge that women religious lived "in community" only because the hierarchical church imposed this on us. Or, similarly, they say that something which was essential to monastic life was inap-propriately required of evangelical and apostolic reli-gious life as well. This objection would require substantial historical research. Investigation would prob-ably show, for example, that the Council of Trent's effort to insist on cloister for women's religious orders was widely resisted, as much by bishops as by women them-selves, since the works entrusted to them required the ability to be out and among the people. Cloister or papal Review for Religious enclosure, of course, is not what today's supporters of communal living envision for their apostolic lives. Investigation would probably also show that various founders from the 16th century to the present have had different ideas about the significance and modality of community living, and so the research would need to make a congregation-by-congregation review. The most neuralgic point in any discussion of com-munity living is whether a congregation should express and promote any norms around living "in common," that is, in groups of two or more. The most helpful resource here is Sandra Schneiders IHM's treatment of the issue in Selling All: Commitment, Consecrated Celibacy, and Community in Catholic Religious Life.7 The premise and context of her discussion is life in a "mobile ministerial religious congregation." Her thesis is that community life, "an intrinsic and constitutive dimension of minis-terial religious life, is theologically necessary for all mem-bers of the congregation, but that it can be embodied on the personal level in a plurality of lifestyles, both group and individual, which are related to each other as equally valid variations, not as legitimate to aberration, normative to exceptional, or superior to inferior" (p. 350, italics added). Specifically, she discusses congregational group living. (pp. 317-330) and three varieties of indi-vidual living. She defines each and spells out the cir-cumstances which may prompt it and the major advantages and challenges each brings. The three forms of individual living are living singly (pp. 330-335), living alone (pp. 336-339), and living in solitude (pp. 339-349). The first is the case of someone who would not choose individual living, but is compelled to do so by educational, ministerial, or personal respon-sibilities (such as the care of aging parents). Vghen the circumstances change, persons in this category are likely 64.3 2005 Gottemoeller ¯ Living in Community 276t 7 ~ to return to group living. The second is the case of some-one who is self-marginalized, on a sort of exclaustration without going through the formalities. This is the per-son who probably has not been seen at a community event in anyone's memory. The third form of individual living is the case of per-sons who seek and choose solitude for their own spiritual development and psychological health. Schneiders describes them as neither alienated nor estranged, but deeply committed and actively involved, perhaps even holding congregational leadership posts. They are fully accountable to congregational leadership in regard to finances, ministry, and personal lifestyle; they are fre-quently involved in very demanding ministries; they are actively committed to the justice agenda. My observation about sisters in this third category is that they are the very persons with whom I would like to share community living and that, for every one of them who opts for solitary living, there is one less com-panion available to those who desire healthy group liv-ing. And so I do not agree with Schneiders that the choice to live individually is without consequence for the rest of the group, or that a norm favoring group liv-ing would be inappropriate. Each member's choice enlarges or diminishes options for others. The more often healthy and active sisters choose to live alone, the more the impression may be given that those who choose to live together are immature, dependent, and nonre-newed. Creating the Future What are some considerations for sisters who want to break through the hesitancy and silence that surround the issue of community living? Here are four sugges-tions. First, the venue for choice of a norm around com- Review for Religious munity living is the congregational chapter. By the very nature of what is involved--an authoritative interpreta-tion of the commitment to community--an individual sister or small group of sisters cannot be determinative. As with any norm, interpretations in specific cases and exceptions for specific individuals can be made by the leadership. This authority to interpret the Rule and to apply it in specific circumstances is one of the highest obligations of leadership. If done sensitively and consis-tently, it will build up the common good and respond to individual needs. Exceptions, then, will not detract from the clarity of the ideal embraced by the membership and the good-faith efforts to strive toward the ideal. Second, congregations will legitimately differ in their interpretation of their commitment. Their history, tra-ditions, and present circumstances may prompt some to choose the norm of living in common, others of living singly, and others of honoring individual choice. Clarity about what the normative interpretation of community is may lead to less diversity in lifestyle within a congre-gation and more diversity among congregations. This clarity should be valuable in describing a congregation to the larger church and to potential new members. Third, in discerning their choice around community living, each congregation should factor in how its choice influences its practice of poverty, of obedience, of celibacy, of prayer, and of ministry. Each of these ele-ments of religious life is meant to interact with the oth-ers to create a synergistic whole. How is a communal spirituality built up through the daily efforts of the mem-bers? How is the sharing of goods implied by poverty realized in practice? And so forth. In a way the manner of community living chosen creates a template for the realization of each of the other elements. The discern-ment should also project the possible impact of the 277 ¯ 64.3 2005 Gottemoeller ¯ Living in Community 278] choice into the future. What will be the possible impact of the congregation's present choice a generation from now? Fourth, the congregation's choice of a norm around community living must be supported by appropriate resources, both material and spiritual. If it is true that forty-five percent of sisters desire to live in groups of four to seven, and this is consistent with the congrega-tion's norm, then housing must be found to make that possible. The loss of parish convents is one of the factors that led to the drift into individual living, and apart-ments will seldom accommodate more than two people. Of course, the investment in living space requires a good-faith commitment on the part of groups to use the space. Congregational leadership has to invite and promote the dialogues that lead to these choices. Leaders .also have to make available other resources, such as materials for group prayer and ritual, occasional group facilitation, intervention in crisis situations, and a general climate of encouragement and support. The intention in pursuing this conversation is not to simplify what is a very complex issue, having historical, cultural, sociological, and theological dimensions. Nor is it to minimize the experience of anyone living religious life today. Rather, the purpose is to call attention to a principal dimension of religious life and to invite a cor-porate discernment. Few questions cut closer to the real-ity of a congregation's identity than its norm or lack of norm around community living. Attempts at dialogue are sometimes stalled by the prospect of choosing between ministry and community living, with the assumptions that members cannot be expected to bring energy to both and that ministry is to be preferred. A better perspective would be to view both ministry and community as equally valuable expressions Review for Religiozts of mission, each strengthening the other. The presence of adults living together in simplicity and harmony, shar-ing prayer, hospitality, and the duties and struggles of daily living, is an uncommon and striking witness to the power of the gospel and the dynamism of a congrega-tion's charism, so much so that it deserves to be called a prophetic stance. Six years ago I closed with the phrase that is the sub-title of the Vatican document on community, "The Love of Christ Gathers Us into Unity." This phrase captures the motive and dynamism of community life. Only the love of Christ is enough to support and sustain this way of life. Love attracts and gathers us. The process is never finished, always calling us to greater unity, greater gen-erosity, greater zeal. We will all fall short of this ideal, but it is one that will never be approached unless it is artic-ulated in behavioral expectations appropriate to a con-gregation's charism and mission. Notes ~ Review for Religious 58, no. 2 (March-April 1999): 137-149. See also my article "Community and Communion: Making the Connections," Review for Religious 60, no. 2 (March-April 2001): 139-151. 2 Horizon, Spring 2000, 7-15. 3 Giving VOICE 1, no. 3 (December 1999). Contributors include Denise Starkley OP, "Community: An Essential Part of Charism"; Rayleen Giannotti RSM, "A Common Life and a Vibrant Spirituality"; Janice Bader CPPS, "Commitment Grows through the 'Rubbing of Elbows'"; Debbie Wells CPPS, "Generation Xers in Community: A Cultural Expert--No Experience Necessary!"; and Kathy Wright SL, "Community ls for Mission." 4 Review for Religious 59, no. 2 (March-April 2000): 118-130. s Journal of Democracy 6, no. 1 (January 1995): 65-78. 6 Barbara Fiand SNDdeN, Refocusing the Vision (New York: Crossroad Publishing Co., 2001). 7 Sandra Schneiders IHM, Selling All, Vol. 2 of Religious Life in a New Millennium (New York: Paulist Press, 2001). 279 64.3 200Y Gottemoeller ¯ Living in Community Prayer: Psalm 122:1-3, 6-9 I rejoiced because they said to me, "We ~ill go up to the house of the Lord." And now we have set foot within your gates, O Jerusalem-- Jerusalem, built as a city with compact unity. Pray for the peace of Jerusalem! May those who love you prosper! May peace be within your walls, prosperity in your buildings. Because of my relatives and friends I will say " Peace be'within you!" Because of the house of the Lord, our God, I will pray for your good. Reflection and Discussion What is my personal experience of community support and sharing in our congregational vocation and charism? Religious community life mirrors the secular cultural breakdown of social groupings. Do we agree or disagree? If we agree, what kind of changes would we want to work for in religious life? What would be some "norms" that a religious congrega-tion might establish to support and sustain a healthy living "in common"? Review for Religiou~ MARY C. CARROLL With Love from Calcutta and Lisieux: Letters of Mother Teresa and St. Th~r~se When Father Michael van der Peet SCJ, A col-league of mine and seminary spiritual director, lectured on Mother Teresa of Calcutta, it was not just his reporting of particular facts but the heartfelt friendship he had with this remarkable woman that inspired me.~ Because of my com-pelling interest, Father shared the twenty let-ters he had received from Mother Teresa and spoke at length about their conversations and his continuing sense of her presence in his life. I was reminded of another friendship and the poignant letters exchanged between Maurice Barth~l~my-Belli~re, an aspiring seminarian, and Th6r~se of Lisieux. As he departed from France for the African missions, Maurice was deeply consoled by the assuring words of Th~r~se that somehow she would be with him. What is it that motivates and sustains such relationships? Mother Teresa wrote her letters in Mary C. Carroll SSSF is a professor and spiritual director at Sacred Heart School of Theology; .7335 South Highway 100; P.O. Box 429; Hales Corners, Wisconsin 53130. witnessing 64.3 2005 Carroll ¯ With Love from Calcutta and Lisieux 282 the midst of enormous travel demands, and Th~r~se of Lisieux wrote even when she was extremely ill. What is it that so strongly moves people to assist one another on the spiritual journey? Examining these two relationships may provide insight into Jesus' admonition to "abide in my love" (Jn 15:9). My purpose here is (1) to describe the origins of these two friendships, (2) to explore the contents of select letters and conversations, and (3) to share the wisdom of the relationships. Mother Teresa of Calcutta and Father Michael At a bus stop in Rome, Father Michael--a native of Holland and something of a world traveler himself-- noticed that the diminutive woman patiently waiting was Mother Teresa. Considering how rare such a respite must have been for her, he thought of giving her just a nod of recognition. But then he thought: "Here is a saint and I am a sinner. At least I can ask her to pray for me." Fortuitously the conversation that ensued included an invitation to give a talk to Mother's congregation, the Missionaries of Charity, in Rome. Arriving early and sitting in the chapel, Father Michael noticed the Ego Sum (I Am) on the tabernacle door. This became a prayer focus and filled him with a sense of "holy ground." This day concluded with another invitation, for a retreat. Mother requested continuing contact because, as she told him, "You kriow Jesus and you know us.''~ In her first letter Mother says: I would be grateful if I could turn to you for spiritual help, but I am absolutely too small and empty. Only Jesus can stoop so low as to be in love with one such as me. Pray for me--that "No" does not pass through my heart and lips---when Jesus asks. (Letter 1, 11/16/75) Because of traveling, Mother apologizes for a delay in her next letter; she assures Father Michael, however, that Review for Reli~ous a holy hour follows every Mass so that "I get the two hours with Jesus before people and sisters start using me. I let Him use me first" (Letter 2, 3/6/76). Several months later Mother is in New York and invites Father Michael to a private meeting, during which he suggests leaving after an hour. Mother's response is "No. The morning is for us, and the media don't know where I am." On. another occasion Father Michael raised a question: "Wherever you go, Mother, people con-sider you to be a heroine or saint. You received all those beautiful prizes. The Holy Father admires and praises you. You were the guest of Indira Gandhi, of Queen Elizabeth, and of President and Mrs. Reagan. How do you handle all of that?" She laughed and said: "Father, [pointing to her ear] it goes in here and comes out there. I am too small to contain it all. Jesus has given me a great grace, and that is the absoluteconviction that I am nothing without Him. If He could find a poorer woman than I, He would not choose me but He would choose that woman." This theme of "littleness" appears again in a letter: I want to write, but I have nothing to say, but that wonder at His great humility and my smallness--noth-ingness. I believe--this is where Jesus and I meet-- He is everything to me--and I--His own little one--so helpless--so empty--so small that all these things that people keep pouring at and round me, can-not enter within me. Maybe because of the darkness I do not see. Maybe He just wants it to be so. I let Him have His way. I smile at the cardboard box [referring "If He co ld find a poorer w man than!, He would noLchoose me but He would choose tha woman." 283 64.3 2005 Carroll * With Love from Calcutta and Lisieux 284[ to herself] getting filled--with all kinds of things-- Big things, most of which I do not understand, but I know that I am being used--only--for and by them so that they proclaim the presence of the Poor--and their concern for the poor. And so I accept everything with a smile in their name. (Letter 3, 5/29/76) In another letter the theme of an unconditional love-- despite the inexplicable darkness that encircles Jesus within her--is quite pronounced in the last paragraph: My love for Jesus keeps growing more simple and more I think personal. Like our Poor, I try to accept my poverty of being small, helpless, incapable of great love, but I want to love Jesus with Mary's love, and His Father with Jesus' love. I know you are praying for me. I want Him to be at ease with me--not to mind my feelings--as long as He feels alright--not to mind even the darkness that surrounds Him in me-- but that in spite of everything Jesus is all to me and that I love no one but only Jesus. (Letter 4, 6/19/76) Within a few months Mother is writing of Brother Roger of Taizd's presence in Calcutta and marveling at someone so full of God and willing to live right in the slums. She promises Father Michael more sharing when her table is "a little empty of letters" (Letter 5, 11/6/76). There is a specificity of issues--providence and faith-fulness- mentioned in the following letter. First Mother refers to their wonderful "chance" meeting in Rome. We have received much from accepting to meet-- without being consulted or prepared. I do not know how He does with you--but with me He always does so--just to make me realize His tender concern for me and my nothingness--His fullness and my empti-ness- His infinite Love and my childlike love. (Letter 6, 11/26/76) Then she addresses Father Michael's personal concerns: Review for Religious "Let not your infidelity and hesitancy as you say--pre-occupy you, but accept all that He gives and give what-ever He takes with a big smile. For this is holiness: to do His will with a big smile" (Letter 6, 11/26/76). But that smile is difficult for her too as she handles her celebrity status in a visit to the United States. "It was all one act of blind obedience. I began to understand the Stations of the Cross with a deeper meaning. The Police, the crowds, it all seemed as if Calvary was being re-enacted all over again" (Letter 6, 11/26/76). The significance of the Missionaries of Charity and the Eucharist are recurring themes as well. Mother is impressed by a priest who points out that God has to exist or else the MCs have "no meaning at all." She agrees, but adds that the essential source for this ministry is the meekness and humility of Jesus: To be able to eat the Bread of Life--we need meekness and humility--if we want to feed Him in the hungry one. I would be happy if you [Father Michael] wrote about the hunger of man and the Bread of Life, the hunger of God and the Hungry One in the distressing disguise of the Poor. (Letter 6, 11/26/76) Regarding hours of adoration, Mother confides, "Here lies our strength and our joy." She concludes: "I ask you to tell Jesus--when at your wordwthe bread becomes His Body and wine becomes His Blood--to change my heart, give me His own Heart so that I can love Him as He loves me" (Letter 6, 11/26/76). Within the year, Mother makes a similar plea with deep affection: "My prayer is very close to you. I do hope you will keep me close to you in your prayer--and love Jesus for me, for all the times when my heart is cold and empty" (Letter 7, 6/20/77). A short time later Father Michael is planning an extended time of reflection and Mother has some pas-toral words for him: 64.3 200~ Carroll ¯ With Love from Calcutta and Li~'eux It is just like you to ask to spend the [three] 3 months with Jesus alone, but if during this time the hunger for Jesus in hearts of His people is greater than yours for Jesus you should not remain alone with Jesus for all the time. You must allow Jesus to make you bread to be eaten by all those you come in touch with. Let the people eat you up--by the Word and presence you proclaim Jesus. (Letter 8, 2/17/78) She then lays out a tentative plan for her scheduled time in St. Louis: I wish you would be there. We could--maybe have Adoration every day and so bring . . . our lives [together] with the Bread of Life. No greater love, not even God could give than in giving Himself as Bread of life to be broken to be eaten so that you and I may eat and live, may eat and satisfy our hunger for love--and He seemed yet not satisfied for He too was hungry for love, so He made Himself the Hungry One, the Thirsty One, the Naked One, the Homeless [One]. (Letter 8, 2/17/78) Mother claims that she can understand Jesus' majesty because He is God, but "His humility is beyond my understanding because He makes Himself the Bread of Life so that even a child as small as I can eat Him and live." In further reflection on the Eucharist, she recalls an awesome memory: Some days back, when giving Holy Communion to our Sisters in the Mother House, suddenly I realized I was holding God between my [two] 2 fingers. The greatness of [the] humility of God. Really no greater love--no greater love than the love of Christ. You, I am sure must feel often like that when, at your word ¯. the [b]read becomes the Body of Christ, the wine becomes the Blood of Christ. (Letter 8, 2/17/78) Her closing comment is characteristic: "He [Jesus] Review for Religious can do with me just as it pleases Him without even a thought of consoling me. I iust want to be His own lit-tle one, if He so wants. Otherwise I will be happy to be just Nothing and He everything" (Letter 8, 2/I 7/78). After more than a year's lapse, a subsequent letter includes an apology for a "long silence." She refers to the Silver Jubilee celebration since, with the foundation in Beirut, twenty-five tabernacles are established in MC houses around the world. With reference to the Eucharist, she again ponders the ineffable: "I just under-stand less and less the humility of God-made-man for love of us" (Letter 9, 5/30/79). A few months later, at the time of the congregational chapter, Mother makes a request: "Ask Our Lady to take care of our Society, which was born at her pleading and grew under her care. I would love to be just a simple Sister. I will not ask--let Jesus do whatever He wills without con-suiting me, for I belong to Him" (Letter 10, 9/22/79). She also offers an apology for leaving Father Michael and oth-ers at a profession in New York to join Cardinal Terence Cooke in meeting with the boat people: "The sea has become an open Calvary where the Passion of Christ is being relived . You only wonder how people can suffer so much and never break. Looking at them I feel physical pain right in my heart" (Letter 10, 9/22/79). Mingled with joy in the expanding congregation, the letter contains signs of a dark night of the soul: "As for me, the silence and the emptiness is so great that I look and do not see, listen and do not hear. The tongue moves but does not speak. Helpless yet daring." Mother asks for prayer so that "I let Him have a free hand and even if He chooses to cut me to pieces that every single piece, however small, be only His." Mother ends with "Ask Our Lady to take care of me as she took [care] of Jesus" (Letter 10, 9/22/79). 64.3 2005 Carroll ¯ With Love from Calcutta and Lisieux 288 There is a postmark from Rome on the next letter. "A bishop told me that I will spend my Purgatory in writing letters, because I am so bad in answering" is her opening statement. Even so, she claims that, "however long Purgatory may be, there is the beautiful hope of seeing Jesus, one day." Her delay is, to some extent, due to her presence at a synod. She expresses amazement to be "with all the big people of Church" (Letter 11, 10/18/80). At the synod Mother requests that the bishops and the Holy Father "give us holy Priests." She then reflects on Father Michael's priesthood: "How tenderly Jesus must love you as to use your tongue to change [b]read into the Body of Christ and through your absolution take away the sins, wash the sins with His precious Blood." Mother is delighted that soon "we shall have Priest-Co-workers." She closes with "Let us keep the joy of loving Jesus in our hearts and share this joy with all we meet" (Letter 11, 10/18/80). During the next decade Mother's letters are less fre-quent but, with reference to Father Michael's corre-spondence, she repeats, "They are my strength" (Letter 12, 12/29/82). Upon returning from Ethiopia she somberly says, "I only saw an open Calvary, where the Passion of Christ was being relived in the bodies of crowds and crowds of people." She hopes, however, to send more sisters to be Jesus' gentle presence to them (Letter 13, I/1/1985). "Often I have wanted to write, but not knowing where you are--it was [a] good excuse not to write" is one of the opening lines of her next letter. With so much poverty around the world, the three hundred and fifty MC houses in seventy-seven countries console her. In her imaginative way she says: St. Peter must be wondering what is happening in the homes of the MC's, as each one who dies in our homes Review for Religious goes to heaven with a ticket for St. Peter. [Twenty-three] 23 thousand have died with us only in Calcutta out of the 53,000 that we had picked up dying from the streets. Same is happening in New York. Already [fifty] 50 have died a beautiful death . At the begin-ning St~ Peter would not let me enter Heaven, because there were no slums in Heaven. Now Heaven is full of slum people. Jesus must be very happy to have those thousands coming to Him with love from Calcutta. (Letter 14, 1/1/88) Although there is a short typed note expressing grat-itude, the last hand-written letter arrives in March 1992. Mother repeats an earlier refrain, "Your letter brought me great joy that you still remember me and pray for me after such a long time." She is happy with an expanding congregation but hopes that the "Society remains only all for Jesus through Mary" (Letter 17, 3/3/92). Then, until Mother's death in 1997, the notes are short and typed but her spirit comes through, especially in the final letter: "God's blessings be on you as you continue to satiate the burning Thirst of Jesus." The last line concludes with "Please, pray for our Society and for me that we may not in any way spoil the works of love" (Letter 20, 3/10/97). In reflecting on his experience, Father Michael mea-sures each word as he says, "With her, you inhale God's presence." Mother's decorum is not "pietistic or exag-gerated." There is a flow of "something genuine, natu-ral, and spontaneous." At the ceremony for the beatification of Mother Teresa, Father Michael watched carefully at the unveiling of her picture and with grati-tude said in his heart, "There is my friend." In the years that have followed since her death, Father Michael says, "She has never been far from me." Whereas Father Michael and Mother Teresa met numerous times and exchanged over fifty letters, Maurice 289 64.3 2005 Carroll ¯Witb Love from Calcutta and Lisieux 290 Belli~re and Th~r~se of Lisieux never met, and exchanged only twenty-one letters. Nevertheless, their correspondence also provides a rich dynamic of a grow-ing friendship. Let us now turn to the genesis of that relationship and some excerpts from Th~rEse's letters. Thdri~se of Lisieux and Maurice Barth~l~my-Bellii~re Like Father Michael van der Peet, Maurice Belli~re --a twenty-one-year-old French ~eminarian--reached out for someone to pray for him by writing to a Carmelite convent. Mother Agnes of Jesus, Th~r~se's older sister Pauline, received the letter in which Maurice introduced himself with the words, "The grace of God, which impelled me toward the Sanctuary, has not washed away the last traces of a thoughtless life., and in spite of my efforts I have a hard time absorbing the spirit of the Church and holding myself to all the demands of the seminary rule." 3 Subsequently, while in the mundane surroundings of a laundry room, Pauline asked Th~r~se to become a spir-itual sister to Maurice by praying for him. Th~r~se was delighted, and, although they never met, thus began a significant friendship manifested in the letters exchanged, largely during the last year of her life. When Maurice Belli~re sent his first letter to the Carmel of Lisieux, he was desperate because his manda-tory military service was interrupting his seminary stud-ies and it could negatively affect his vocation. Within a week Pauline assured Maurice that a "little saint" would be praying for him. His next letter is quite idealistic, for he does not want to come back from military service "without bringing some souls back to the true Light." En route to the barracks in Caen, he drops off a postcard recommending prayer for the seminarian-soldiers and their saddened families. Review for Religious It is another nine months before Maurice sends a let-ter revealing a man, fresh from the seminary, whose per-sonal confidence in his ideals have been severely challenged. What exactly happened in the army is mys-terious; obviously, Maurice is disillusioned. He writes again, to the new prioress, Mother Gonzague, who turns the correspondence over to Th~r~se. With alacrity and sisterly concern, Th~r~se responds and soon learns that Maurice--having finished his military stint and returned to his religious pursuits--is now anxiously awaiting acceptance in the Missionaries of Africa (White Fathers). Excerpts from Th~r~se's first letter (December 26, 1896) are full of encouragement for the aspiring missionary: Let us work together for the salvation of souls. We have only the one day of this life to save them and thus to give Our Lord some proof of our love. The tomorrow of this day will be eternity, when Jesus will reward you with the hundredfold of those sweet and lawful joys which you are giving up for Him . I hope, Monsieur l'Abb~, that you will continue to pray for me, who am no angel as you seem to think, but a poor little Carmelite who is very imperfect--yet who in spite of her poverty wants, like yourself, to work for the glory of God. Thtr~se includes some of her poems. Maurice is grateful, apologizing for his "rough and ready" prose but saying he feels that something in her communication is working in the depths of his soul. Th~r~se responds with equal gratitude: "Truly, only in heaven will you know how dear you are to me. I feel our souls are made to understand each other." In this same letter Th~r~se articulates her "little way" by saying: "Since He Himself has chosen me to be your sis-ter, I hope that He will not take notice of my weakness, or rather that He will use that very weakness to do His work: 29i 64.3 200~ Carroll ¯ With Love from Calcutta and Lisieux 2921 for the Strong God likes to show His power by making use of nothing." Th~r~se has lofty desires that can be accomplished by being the "small flower" in the apostolic garden. For Thdr~se, the Divine One is not giving awards to the competent but rewards to the humble who are con-fident in Him, It is not entitlement but instrumentality. There is an increasing intimacy in Thdr~se's saluta-tion in the next letter. "My dear little Brother" replaces the formal "Monsieur l'Abb&" Fearing an overestima-tion of her person, she says, "I beg you to believe me that the good God has given you as your sister not a great soul." But she hastens to add: "Don't think that this is humility which prevents me from recognizing the gifts of the good God. I know that He has done great things in me, and every day I sing to Him with joy for doing so." Her motivation has also crystallized. "I under-stood my mission was not to crown a mortal king, but to make the King of Heaven loved, to conquer for Him the kingdom of hearts." Just months before her death, Thdr~se takes advan-tage of the privacy afforded her in the infirmary to answer Maurice's letters. She makes it clear that she is facing the end and assumes that, when he receives her letter, she will have left this "land of exile." There seems to be a sense of urgency when she says, "I would like to tell you a thousand things which I understand as I stand at the door of Eternity." One thing is clear: "I under-stand more than ever that only one thing is necessary, and that is to work solely for Him." A month later Thdr~se says, "The Spouse is at the door." Facing her own demise, she wants Maurice to know that their relationship will continue. "When my dear lit-tle brother leaves for Africa, I shall follow him not only in thought and in prayer; my soul will be with him for-ever." But Maurice is devastated when he understands Review for Religious that TMr~se's days are numbered, for he has found "a lovely home" in her friendship. He lets her know that she has been instrumental in his finding Jesus. Maurice soon expresses his anxieties and moral weak-ness. Thdr~se uses the image of an elevator of love, not fear, that takes us to God. She gives the exam-ple of two children who are disobedient. One withdraws in fright, but the other throws himself into their father's arms to beg forgiveness. Thdr~se promises to help Maurice remedy his hesitancy with God. "I think it will be easier for you to live with Jesus once I am there at His side forever." Thdr~se knows she must wait for the next life to further converse on these profound realities. In Thdr~se's last letter she speaks of knowing that her passport for heaven is ready and credits her deceased father for the grace of that awareness. Once again she assures Maurice that, whatever his faults, he is .dealing with the infinite mercy of God. She closes with: "ADieu, dear little brother, may God give us the grace to love Him and to save souls for Him." In the meantime Maurice is on board a ship destined for Africa. He recalls looking up at the stars and praying for Thdr~se, unaware it was the night she died. His first day in Africa is Thdr~se's first day in eternity. Later he is convinced that his peacefulness and joy are attributable to her. If today one goes to Maurice's grave, there is a plaque on the wall of the nearby church acknowledging this relationship: Maurice Belli~re, Spiritual Brother and Protdgd of Saint Th4r~se. A Dieu, dear littlebrother, may God give us the grace to love Him and to save soulsfor Him," 1293 64.3 2005 Carroll * With Love from Calcutta and Lisieux 294 Summary Observations These two women--sending letters permeated with affection, gratitude, and insights--gifted both Father Michael van der Peet and Maurice Barth~l~my-Belli~re. Mother Teresa's themes are more broadly based: retreat requests, Eucharistic insights, concern for an expanding congregation, global poverty, and a thirst for God whet-ted by an acute spiritual darkness that seem to hollow her out for a greater fullness of Jesus' presence. In each MC house she had the phrase "I thirst" given a prominent place as a reminder of Jesus' longing for souls, and per-haps as a reflection of her own longing for God. Th~r~se and Maurice were in their twenties and fer-vently idealistic. Th~r~se articulates the "little way" to accompany her dreams. She uses the face of Jesus and the phrase "King of Hearts" to focus her image of her Beloved. There is immediacy in Th~r~se's writing because it is penned as she stands at the door of death while whispering secrets to Maurice. Although cloistered in life, she promises that in eternity she will travel with him as a spiritual companion. Both women view themselves as God's instruments: a cardboard box, an insignificant flower. In life, many know similar images of themselves and reluctantly accept them, but these women rejoice in them. Both knew they are not sources, only conduits, of love. Both women say to their friends what John the Baptist once said: "He must increase, and I must decrease" (Jn 3:30). But, most especially, both women testify to a divine indwelling through Jesus that makes true friendship possible. "As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you; abide in my love" (Jn 15:9). Notes ~ Father Michael van der Peer, a member of the international Congregation of the Priests of the Sacred Heart (SCJ), served on the Review for Religious commission for the beatification of Mother Teresa of Calcutta. He has graciously given me permission to quote from her letters and has answered numerous questions. Further resources regarding her expe-rience with spiritual direction are J. Neuner SJ, "Mother Teresa's Charism," and Albert Huart SJ, "Mother Teresa: Joy in the Night," Review for Religious 60 (September-October 2001): 479-493 and 494- 502 respectively. 2 Words quoted here and below (whether Mother Teresa's or Father Michael's), if not otherwise documented, are from my interviews with Father van der Peet. 3 Patrick Ahern, Maurice and Tberese: The Story of a Love (New York: Doubleday, 1998), p. 15. Below, other quotations longer than three words are from the following pages of this book: 25, 65-66, 82 and 86, 82, 103 and 108, 104-I05, 106, 130, 129-130, 152 and 155, 153,188, and 211. At Cana Before time was, She was in God's eye, As a bloom in the bud Awaits its moment. And the moment, too, Was in God's eye, That sees and saves, Counts hairs on heads, Yet defers to her, Her.unspoken wish Already his command. Leonard Cochran OP 64.3 2005 MARY FRANCES COADY Alfred Delp SJ and the Heart of Jesus 296 O n the first day of December 1944, a thirty-seven- year-old Jesuit, imprisoned in Berlin and awaiting trial for treason against the Third Reich, edged himself between the plank bed and table of his small cell and with manacled hands began to write a reflection on the Heart of Jesus. His name was Alfred Delp, and he had been arrested four months earlier in an all-out purge following a failed attempt on Hitler's life the previous July. He had been interrogated and tortured. In letters smuggled out of prison by two women who brought clean laundry and other supplies to prisoners, he had written about his fear, his struggles against despair, his optimistic hopes for acquittal and release, and his desire to leave his fate in the hands of God. The date, 1 December, that he began putting his meditation to paper is significant, for as the day dawned he realized it was the first Friday of the month, the day honoring the Heart of Jesus. This devotion held a cen- Mary Frances Coady published With Bound Hands, about Father Delp, at Loyola Press in 2003. She writes from 35 Cowan Avenue; Toronto, Ontario; M6K 2N1 Canada. tral place in Delp's prayer life. The veneration of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, with its deep biblical roots, had grown to enormous popularity with the revelations to St. Margaret Mary Alacoque in the late 17th century. This obscure Visitation nun received visions of Jesus in the chapel of her convent in the town of Paray-le- Monial, in Burgundy. In these visions Jesus exposed his heart to her, saying, "Behold my heart, which burns with love for all humanity." He added that those who received Communion for nine consecutive first Fridays in repa-ration for sins against his love were assured of dying in the state of grace. In the following centuries and under Jesuit influence, the Sacred Heart devotion ushered in a new and more gentle approach to the Christian spiritual life--one of self-abandonment, trust, and surrender--as a means of combatting the cold, harsh spirit of Jansenism that had permeated the church. The Litany of the Heart of Jesus was given official church approval in 1891. Along the way, however, the devotion became encrusted with infe-rior art, sugary sentimentality, and obsessive supersti-tions regarding the nine first Fridays. Alfred Delp, the product of a Catholic-Lutheran mar-riage, grew up without Catholic devotions because his father insisted he be brought up a Lutheran. The Sacred Heart caught up with him, however, after his adolescent embrace of his mother's Catholicism and his subsequent entrance into the Society of Jesus in 1926. A book of Jesuit devotions, one of which was the Litany of the Sacred Heart, was sent to him in prison. Delp had studied philosophy and political theory, but his prayer life as a Jesuit had been fashioned by the Catholic piety of the time. As a preacher and writer, he had tried to infuse his philosophical work with his deep-ening sense of the divine mystery at the core of his devo- 64.3 2005 298 tions. On the first Friday of December, in his cold prison cell, his hands in manacles, he pondered the love of God as the driving force of the universe. In the extremity of his situation, he realized the immensity of God's love for him, that God was holding him and protecting him with a love that was infinitely greater and more powerful than the forces imprisoning him. And so he began to write his meditation on the Litany of the Heart of Jesus. The heart represents the essence, or center, of a per-son, and he had earlier written of the heart as the only way to God. Now, in a preamble to his meditation, he lamented the dissociation of the devotional from the the-ological. Without a theological foundation, he wrote, the devotion can dissolve into mush, and without the devotion the theology becomes dry and devoid of personal passion. He described the arc that moves between the divine and the human: the basis of this devotion is the cry of the creature in need and the offer of help from God through Jesus Christ. The answer from God takes two forms: a healing, redemptive help and a call for humanity to share in that healing. And so this is not a just a "me and God" approach to the heart of Jesus, but a proposal to be a graced presence for others as well. The language used in the prayer is the language of love, but the theological framework is there. The prayer expresses a deep, myste-rious relationship between God and humanity, he wrote, and must not be demeaned by sentimentality. As with other litanies, the Litany of the Heart of Jesus follows an antiphonal course; the response "Have mercy on us" follows each of the various titles attributed to Jesus. What follows is my translation of an excerpt from Delp's reflection on the first invocation: "Heart of Jesus, Son of the eternal Father." "We call upon the Heart of the Son of the eternal Father. In this invocation there are particular consider- Review for Religious ations for us to contemplate. Heart: here, as in the whole litany, we are calling upon the love of God. The Heart is the symbol of God's innermost being and God's fun-damental relationship with us. A person who does not believe in God in this way should not continue praying, because that person is not up to the words of the prayer. "Heart of the Son: one ought to be able to state briefly what theology has to say about the Son. But one thing should be men-tioned as far as this devo-tion is concerned: from the beginning, the Son is the place of comfort and belonging for the world. The Word is God's image, of which we are shadows. He has always been the living incarnation of God's commitment to the worl

Issue 59.6 of the Review for Religious, 2000. ; NOVEMBER: DECEMBER 2000 ,VOLUME 59 NUMBER 6 Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bimonthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: review@slu.edu ¯ Web site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for.Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, iVlO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP Mount St. Mary's Seminary; Emmitsburg, Maryland 21727 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subsEription rates. ©2000 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. Jew rel,g,ous LIVING OUR CATHOLIC LEGACIES Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming sJ Clare Boehmer ASC Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm James and Joan Felling Adrian Gaudin SC Kathryn Richards FSP Joel Rippinger OSB. Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla SJ Patricia Wittberg SC NOVEMBER DECEMBER 2000 VOLUME 59 NUMBER 6 contents 566 spiritual practice Retrieving the Practice of Silence Donald J. Goergen oP enters us into an appreciation of silence that we might commit ourselves more to its observance. 575 The Dangers of Solitude Kenneth C. Russell, guiding readers through some 12th-century advice to hermits, shows its 2 l st-cenrury relevance to hermits and others as well. 584 A Spiritual Direction Mary Beth Moore SC gazes at, listens to, a few moments of reality and possibility within contemporary sisterly living. 594 a witness response Contemplative Religious Witness: A Redemptoristine Monastery Dennis J. Billy CSSR finds the life of a group of contemplative sisters very much present to his apostolic mission, and happily reflects that the reverse is true as well. 601 AVowed Response to the Postmodern World Andr~ Maureen Soete SSND seeks ways for the vowed life to contribute more vigorously, more effectively, to the alleviation of troubles in our troubled world. Review for Religious 608 examples from the past Mary Ward: Centuries Her Scroll Lawrence F. Barmann sketches the life story of Mary Ward, the saintly English founder of the Institute of the Blessed Virgin Mary, as an inspiration for us living in the current ecclesial milieu. 614 627 St. Catherine's Letters: Human Love, Gracious Authority Stan Parmisano OP finds that in style and content the letters of Catherine of Siena (1347-1380) have surprising and challenging and charming relevance for persons living today. Katharine Drexel's Cultural Relevance Now Normandie J. Gaitley SSJ sketches the life of the recently canonized Mother Katharine Drexel SBS (1858-1955), a Philadelphia debutante who used her inheritance to serve Native Americans and African Americans. 633 643 vocation When Vocations Happen by Accident Elizabeth Julian RSM describes with quiet enthusiasm her sense of a flexible small community in New Zealand that fosters acquaintance and has shown itself to foster vocations. Vocational Support Donald Macdonald SMM speaks of the human need of support in one's vocation and of the providential availability of that support if we are alert to its manifold presence. departments 564 Prisms 650 Canonical Counsel: Responsibilities of the Novice Director 656 Book Reviews 666 Indexes to Volume 59 November-December 2000 prisms Whave come to appreciate the rich complexi.ty of the biblical term jubilee, espe-cially as we have looked toward the new millennium. But as we approach the Advent and Christmas seasons of the year 2000, one focus of jubilee stands out. Jubilee implies celebration. Advent and Christmas seasons pro-vide an opportune moment for us to consider what it is that we celebrate. Celebrati6n often means bringing people together, sometimes those dearest to us, and at other times the "crowd" that comes together only for special occasions. Celebration can include elegant banquets or simple fin-ger food. It may suggest a refined cocktail party or a noisy beer-keg-and-pretzels get-together. Celebration can imply long-term planning or it may be a spur-of-the- moment, spontaneous occasion. We celebrate beginnings, like newborn babies and the wedding day; we celebrate completions, like school graduations and retirements. We observe national patriotic days, and we take time for religious festivals. But for all the aspects of a jubilee year of forgiveness, justice, and reconciliation, what is it that we most cele-brate? The biblical notion of jubilee celebrates, above all, our being God's people and our living like God's sons and daughters. This planet called Earth is "home" for us because it is God's home. Our space-age view of our planet Earth has brought home to us how much we all are "stewards," not owners, of God's gift to us. Review for Religious What is striking is how our jubilee celebrations enter us into the Gospel Prodigal Son parable. Whether we more identify with one who hopes to see life as only an arena of personal delights and squanderings or whether we more identify with the other who defines life as a kind of slavery with weighty obligations and grim duties, we realize how much we need a jubilee understanding of life. Both sons, in Jesus' famous parable, understand neither the father who helped bring them into life nor the life which this father wants to share with them. The first son in his self-cen-tered celebrating misses the point of celebration. The second son in his self-defined servitude also misses the idea of celebra-tion. Just as the father in the parable goes out of the way to meet each son, so God continues to break into our life to call us to a reality of biblical jubilee. Advent is our jubilee celebration of our longing and desire to dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of our life. Christmas is our jubilee celebration of God's desire and longing to come and play forever among the children of Earth. Advent and Christmas are at the center of our understanding jubilee because both seas~ons emphasize the heart of all our reasons to celebrate: God calls us sons and daughters, and we know the redemptive salvation that Jesus brought, of living in God's home all the days of our life. David L. Fleming SJ thank you for your ~uppor~throughout thi~ pa~t yoar and pray that (~od~rieh o a nd~ abundant iubiloo Advont and ~hri~tma~ Th~ Mitor~ and ,of Revi~ ~orRoligiou~ . " November-December 2000 spiritua practice DONALD J. GOERGEN Retrieving the Practice of Silence Jesus experienced the need for quiet. "In the morn-ing, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed"(Mk 1:35, NRSV). What did he seek there? What did he find? The Book of Psalms is quoted in the New Testament more often than any other book of the Hebrew Bible. What role did the psalms play in the prayer of Jesus? "Be still, and know that I am God" (Ps 46:10). How often in the course of his life did Jesus pray over verses like that, or this: "For God alone my soul waits in silence; from him comes my salvation"? (Ps 62:1). There are few things in human life more important, both personally and communally, than discovering the value of silence. Spirituality and religion are important dimensions of human and social life, and so are silence and stillness. Other civilizations, perhaps more pastoral, more agrarian ones, had greater opportunities for the practice of silence. Our times seem less fortunate in that regard. Yet silence is essential to wholesome living. My purpose in these reflections is to help us appreciate silence more and commit ourselves to practicing it. Donald J. Goergen OP wrote on celibacy for our May- June 1998 issue. His address is Friends of God Dominican Ashram; 720 35th Street; Kenosha, Wisconsin 53140. Review for Religious Worship, Charity, and Silence Which is more important, love of God or love of neighbor? (Mk 12:28-31). It does not take much to realize that this question is falsely posed. Which is more important, inhaling or exhaling, yang or yin? St. Anselm spoke of God as "the Being a greater than which cannot be conceived." Certainly, for one who believes, God alone deserves to be worshiped. Adoration and praise are the only appro-priate responses to God. Although there is nothing in human life more important than love of God, the God of Jesus instructs us that there is something that must precede or accompany it. "So, when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remem-ber that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift" (Mt 5:23- 24). "Those who say 'I love God,' and hate their brothers or sis-ters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen cannot love God whom they have not seen. The commandment we have from him is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also" (1 Jn 4:20-21). As important as worship is, equally important is the practice of charity, love of neighbor, the "works of mercy" (Mr 25:31-46). The revolution in Jesus' teaching was not that he understood love of God, the Shema (Dr 6:4-5), as the core of the Hebrew Scriptures. Almost every practicing and devout Jew understood that to be the great com-mandment. But Jesus' placing love of neighbor (Lv 19:18; Mk 12:31) on a par with love of God, that was revolutionary, and for him that was what true religion is about. For Jesus, the second commandment is not secondary, not second in the sense of less significant. According to Matthew, it is "like" the "great and first" commandment (Mr 22:38-39). Luke (10:27) reports them as really one commandment. True worship or love of God is inseparable from true com-passion or love of neighbor. But what do love of God and love of neighbor, or worship and the works of mercy, have to do with the practice of silence? Abhishiktananda, or Henri Le Saux, the French monk who came to India in 1948 and immersed himself in its reli-gious environment, wrote: Now if something has passed in this long discourse by the way of words, yet beyond words, if you have heard in the words of the Upanishads some echo of what the Spirit has November-Decenlber 2000 Goergen ¯ Retrieving the Practice of Silence certainly whispered in your heart when you sat in contem-plation of the mystery of the Father and the Son, then you will discover by yourselves the secret of what is called the Advaitic or Upanishadic prayer. It can be summed up in one Hebrew phrase of Psalm 65, which Jerome translates: silen-tium tibi laus. Silence is praise for you. Silence in prayer, silence in thanksgiving, prayer, and adoration, silence in meditation, silence inside and outside as the most essential preparation for this stillness of the soul in which alone the Spirit can work at his pleasure.~ The contemplative and interior journey, the love and worship of God, are dependent on silence. But charity or love of neigh-bor depends on silence too. A loving kindness toward our human companions on this earth requires the silent journey inward just as true worship of God requires it. Can there be true love of neigh-bor without confronting the truth about ourselves? Can we expect reconciliation and forgiveness in our world if we ourselves are not yet ready to forgive? If we are to transform our world, we must also be working on becoming transformed ourselves. Social engage-ment requires time apart. Silence is essential if we are to deepen our love for God and our love for our neighbor. Silence, Solitude, and Simplicity What does silence sound like? What does it look like? Are there different kinds of silence? Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earth-quake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence. When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. (1 Kg 19:11-13) True silence, the inner stillness, the still point, is an achieve-ment to be sought, yet always remains a grace. But it is a grace upon which we must focus our attention. It requires discipline, which does not guarantee interior silence, but rather prepares the way. We must devote time to "the practice of silence," the practice of interior and contemplative prayer, the practice of an awareness that is the fruit of quieting the mind.2 Such "quiet" is not easily obtained in our world today. Not Review for Religious that a busy, technological, urban society is the enemy of silence, but neither is it a friend. Modern social and commercial life cannot prevent the pursuit of silence, but neither do they encourage or value it. Entertainment is a noisy industry. The more channels we have on television, the better. But then they must be filled--with "stuff," whatever it be. They compete for attention; thus, the more out-rageous, the more likely the success. The Internet now multiplies ways to distract us from an inner stillness. Not to find television entertaining seems quaint. To see it or the overuse of the Internet as distraction from true entertain-ment, a life with God quietly pursued, is sec-ular heresy. For silence is not the stuff of which modern societies, commerce, or edu-cation are ordinarily made. Not that the media, the schools, the churches, market-places, and businesses are avowed enemies of silence; they are just uneasy with it. We are talking about a disciplined silence that requires resolve. Its close friends are solitude and simplicity. These compan-ions reveal how countercultural true silence really is. Solitude is one of silence's most cherished friends. Yet how difficult it is in our world today to find solitude, to pursue solitude, to practice solitude. We are "driven" away from it. We can hardly face the silence within ourselves. We flee. As Francis Thompson wrote: I fled Him, down the nights and down the days; I fled Him, down the arches of the years; I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears I hid from Him, and under running laughter.3 The running is aided by all the activities of our world, justified by the needs of our world, and rationalized by "This is just our world and that's the way it is." To desire silence we must value solitude. We identify aloneness with loneliness. But, until we are at home with ourselves, we will always be lonely, no matter how busy, how "with it," how much with others we might be. As we know, marriage is no cure for loneliness. Neither is single life. Dietrich Modern social and commercial life cannot prevent the pursuit of silence, but neither do they encourage or value it. November-December 2000 Goergen ¯ Retrieving tbe Practice of Silence Bonhoeffer once cautioned us to be wary of the person who lives with another or in community who cannot be alone, or who lives alone but cannot live in community.4 Sociality and solitude are two sides of the same coin: we can-not find one without the other. Silence lives on solitude. We must find ways to structure it into our lives on a regular basis, like the food we eat. Where can we find that place apart, that space for being alone, and for how long can we keep ourselves there with-out being taken up by distractions~ Where can we go to practice silence? Or how in the midst of activity can we find that cell within? s One of solitude's companions is simplicity of life. Simplicity inside requires simplicity outside. A cluttered, thing-filled, con-sumer- intensive environment is hardly the place in which to prac-tice an awareness that few things in life are important. The world immediately outside myself needs to reflect what I am trying to attain within myself. Simplicity in life is an outward expression of simplicity within. One's "within" and "without" go together. And now we can see more clearly why our current economic world can easily become an enemy of silence. The pursuit of silence eventu-ally becomes a pursuit of simplicity of life--which is a recognizable enemy to a consumer economy, a global and ever expanding mar-ket economy. Not that the market is evil; it is just easy prey to the pretension that it alone is important, the be-all and end-all of human life. The practices of silence, solitude, and simplicity enable us to see the truth about economic pursuits: How inhumane they can be when given priority in life, how grounded in greed they become! Kinds of Silence There are a variety of silences.6 Silence can be either destruc-tive or constructive.7 Destructive silence is refusing to speak when a word is called for, a word of consolation, of affection, of chal-lenge. Destructive silence can be passive aggression, a refusal to participate, a lack of care, a form of punishment, unconscionable noncommunication. But silence as context for an interior journey is positive. Silence as a socia! context is the absence of noise in our imme-diate environment. There are different degrees of environmental silence. A noiseless environment is difficult to find in modern Review for Religious urban settings. One can distinguish rural silences and urban silences. For someone unaccustomed to rural silences, the sound of the cricket or the howl of a coyote can be disturbing. There are sounds to which we have become accustomed and those to which we are not. Familiar sounds need not destroy environmen-tal silence, but can blend with it. There is a silent stillness to the vastness of nature: the sounds and silence of the ocean, the moun-tains, the desert, the plains. Each is a different environment and a different silence. On a windless day, sitting atop one of the mountain peaks of the Sangre de Cristo range near Christ in the Desert Monastery in northern New Mexico, one can hear an almost Human silence absolute environmental silence. Human silence is the presence of nonspeech, call be a silence It is not necessarily noncommunication or non-of solitude, communitarian. Silence itself can communicate abundantly, and it is amazing what can be corn- but it can also be municated without words. Human silence can be a silence of solitude, but it can also be commu- communitarian. nitarian. A solemn silence can prevail in Christian or Buddhist monasteries or a Hindu ashram, in a synagogue, church, or mosque. These settings or "environments" can be sacred space. There are times and places when human speech is out of place or out of season. Human silence can be community silence, but there is also personal silence. An individual person can cultivate silence--by seeking environmental silence, or sacred space, or solitude, but also by the practice of silence: avoiding unnecessary speech, c~eating personal space, the silence of one's own room, withdrawing to "the cell within," lis-tening to music, allowing absorption in art and beauty, acquiring an inner stillness and the practice of meditation. Personal silence itself is not only oriented toward calm, tran-quillity, and an absence of stress, but ultimately toward interior silence, the silencing of the mind, even if this is rare or only momentary. I remember a conversation with a cloistered Dominican nun, who had a doctorate and had been teaching before joining this cloistered contemplative community. When I asked why she had joined the monastery, she replied, "I needed to stop thinking if I was going to start praying." The human being is a reflective being, but also a contemplative being that sometimes needs to move beyond thoughts (mental silence) as well as wordsv-~z-~'~---)-'[-i November-December 2000 Goergen ¯ Retrieving the Practice of Silence (verbal silence). The interior journey is in fact directed toward this deep silence within, this cave of the heart, this still point, this soul of the soul, this human spirit. Spiritual silence is the human spirit at peace, the silence of the spirit in its communion with the Spirit of God, the divine Spirit, the Holy Spirit. This is mystical silence, with its dark nights, its ecstatic joy, its calm recollection, its deep rest. Silence of any sort is most often not constant, but periodic, coming at intervals, having a rhythm of its own. Deep silence, mystical silence, is not an achievement but a grace. Thus one can speak of the grace of silence, a grace that is present in varied ways and at varied levels, exteriorly and interiorly: the prayer of silence, the silent Presence, the Holy Mystery. It is this mystery that we cel-ebrate in liturgy and seek in contemplation. We experience litur-gical silence, a pastoral silence, intimate silences, times and places not to speak, for which words are inappropriate, occasions on which only silence can communicate. Silence can communicate from within a depth beyond words. In community, in friendship, in ministry, and in prayer there must be silence as well as speech. Divine silence is God's very own silence, God's very own self-communication, God's' awesome and incomprehensible transcen-dence, God's overwhelming intimate immanence, God's elusive presence and mysterious absence, God's truth and God's beauty, the Nameless One whose name is Father, Son, and Spirit, the One- Who-Is, the One-Who-Is-With-Us, the silence of being, the sound of ore, the soundlessness of communion, the union of God and humanity, the union of Word and flesh, the triune union, the incor-poration of humanity into the silent triunity of its Creator. There is ultimately no distinction between divine Silence and divine Speech. They are one 'and the same. God's speech is silent, and God's silence speaks. Silence and Theology .The practice of silence is necessary not only for the spiritual journey and to sustain our humanity. It is also essential for doing theology. Theologians are accountable for their theology to their professional peers, to their varied communities of faith, and to society at large for the quality, fidelity, and social implications of their work. They cannot absolve themselves of this threefold responsibility. But the theologian is also accountable to God. One Review for Religious does not stand before the Holy Mystery, the mysterium fascinans et tremendum, without asking the Holy Spirit for courage, guid-ance, and wisdom. In other words, all theology must begin with prayer. It has both a reflective moment and a contemplative moment. It is not an ego project, but a work of the Spirit. Theology cannot be done apart from silence. The practice of silence, of placing oneself in the presence of God, of meditation, of listening, of longing are all part of doing theology. Theology can too easily become words, verbal batdes, polemic, agenda ridden, jargon, rather than revelatory, illuminating, con-nected to life, committed to Truth. This happens when theolo-gians neglect the practice of contemplative silence--which would make them aware of both the inadequacy and the necessity of words for communicating the divine mystery. A theologian needs to be practiced in the art of silence. So does the magisterium in the church need to practice it. "Roma locuta est," the saying goes. But think of the symbolic power in "Roma tacuit." What a wonderful example that could be. Magisterial authority must reflect that we are a learning church as well as a teaching church. Is not part of the crisis over author-ity the ways in which the church exercises its authority? We do not grant authority easily to those who do not listen. Silence gives value to words. Apart from words, silence can be sterile, but apart from silence words lose their power. As Ecclesiastes (3:7) says, "There is a time for keeping silence, a time for speaking." Silence is a work of the Spirit. True silence is ulti-mately prayer. It speaks with authority. It communicates truth. It creates community. It is the voice of the soul, of the human spirit, and of the Holy Spirit. Can we afford to allow its practice to become peripheral in our lives? In The Sleeping Beauty, Ralph Harper points to the value of silence for our world: Each order of experience has its own a.tmosphere. The atmo-sphere of presence, of giving, of wholeness, is silence. We know that serious things have to be done in silence, because we do not have words to measure the immeasurable. In silence people love, pray, listen, compose, paint, write, think, suffer. These experiences are all occasions of giving and receiving, of some encounter with forces that are inex-haustible and independent of us. These are easily distin-guishable from our routines and possessiveness as silence is distinct from noise.8 November-December 2000 Goergen ¯ Retrieving the Practice of Silence Not only nuns and monks, but all of us need to retrieve the art and practice of silence. We need to dip deeply into the silent abyss of self, of God, of God in the self and the self in God, We need to explore the emptiness and the fullness that lie within us. We need silence. Notes 1 Abhishiktananda, "The Upanishads and Advaitic Experience," in The Further Shore (New Delhi: I.S.P.C.K., 1984), p. 117. 2 Buddhist traditions also see a triple relationship: compassion, rooted ¯ in egolessness, which in turn is rooted in mindfulness. These three are intimately connected. See Sogyal Rinpoche, The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying (San Francisco: Harper, 1992), esp. pp. 59-72, 116-122, 188-201. 3 The first lines of "The Hound of Heaven." 4 Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together (New York: Harper and Row, Publishers, 1954), esp. pp. 76~89. "Let him who cannot be alone beware of community. Let him who is not in community beware of being alone. ¯. The mark of solitude is silence, as speech is the mark of community. Silence and speech have the same inner correspondence and difference as do solitude and community. One does not exist without the other. Right speech comes out of silence, and right silence out of speech. Silence does not mean dumbness, as speech does not mean chatter. Dumbness does not create solitude and chatter does not create fellowship" (p. 78). s See Catherine of Siena: The Dialogue, trans. Suzanne Noffke OP (New York: Paulist Press, 1980), on the "cell of self-knowledge," pp. 25, 118, 122, 125, 135, and 158. 6 Theodore Pereira in "Eloquence in Silence, Healing in Stillness," Indian Theological Studies 33 (June 1996): 99-126, has written about different types of silences. 7 "Silence itself is expressed in several ways. We know silences of contempt and of joy, of pain and of pleasure, of consent and of solitude." Jean-Luc Marion, God without Being (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991), pp. 53-54. ~ Ralph Harper, The Sleeping Beauty (London: Harvill Press, 1955), pp. 110-111. The word "men" in the original was changed to "people" to accommodate current usage. Review for Religious KENNETH C. RUSSELL The Dangers of Solitude ~o~e~oe ldi!a nTgheerrse oisf as ololintugd tera. dAitniodn t hoef wwaarrnniinngg sw hoauvlde- bneo th ceormmiets solely from cenobites suspicious of solitaries off doing "their own thing." Religious who have the highest regard for the blessings and joys of the life of aloneness with God have tempered their enthusiasm with cautionary words about the special difficulties the solitary is likely to encounter. Thomas Merton, for example, warns that "sordid difficulties and uncertainties" attend .the life of even interior solitude,l Authors from the first centuries of the church conjure up frightening pictures of the demons who lie in wait for the unsuspecting hermit, while modern writers warn newcomers to the desert that solitude will force them to confront the disturbing image of their true self. The message is clear: more awaits the novice hermit than the beauties of nature and the spiritual delights which ancient and contemporary enthusiasts of the eremitical life tend to emphasize. I suppose that most contemporary solitaries would agree that demons in one guise or another must be wrestled with and that it can, indeed, be a distressing experience to come face to face with the self we usually avoid in a flurry of activity. However, I also suspect that most hermits are somewhat amused by both the modern and the ancient depiction of their lot. They would be only too happy to confess that there are no monsters writhing in the Kenneth C. Russell last wrote for our March-April 2000 issue. His address remains 40 Landry Street, Apt. 1505; Vanier, Ontario; K1L 8K4 Canada. November-December 2000 E5-7-5 Russell ¯ The Dangers of Solitude corners of their huts and that the identity crisis so precious to their contemporaries does not keep them awake nights. What they actually confront, it seems, is a routine cycle of sun and cloud on a prairie stretching clear to the horizon. There are no mountains or valleys to speak of. Their bad days are as unremarkable as their good ones. They struggle against subtle temptations, not spectacular ones. It has always been so. The 12th-century Cistercian Aelred of Rievaulx recognized this in his hard-hitting Letter to a Recluse, addressed to his elderly sister but written with less seasoned solitaries in mind? So did his contemporaries Peter the Venerable and Bernard of Portes, who wrote shorter and less theologically dense letters to male recluses who had asked their advice.3 Twelfth-century recluses lived in circumstances that are quite different from those in which most modern hermits seek solitude. But this does not mean that the letters of Peter and Bernard are merely quaint witnesses to a bygone era. The basics of the eremitical life are constant across the centuries. They are also unaffected by the way in which different solitaries choose to live the eremitical life. Whether the solitary is a recluse, a hermit, or a homeless wanderer like Benedict Joseph Labre does not radically modify the eremitical life. Consequently the letters Peter and Bernard wrote to 12th-century male monastic recluses remain relevant to male and female solitaries of all kinds, even today. Indeed, it seems to me that their practical orientation makes them especially useful. Therefore, I want to focus on the difficulties these authors see arising when the honeymoon period of the eremitical life--which may last a good long time--is finally over. In highlighting some of the minor difficulties which can grow into major problems if not attended to, it is not my intention to present a negative view of the solitary life. It does have dark days; it would not be a human enterprise if it did not. However, in focusing on the gray periods, I am not denying its spells of fine weather. I am merely reiterating the warning uttered down the centuries that people who wander off into the desert on their own had better know what they are about. Peter the Venerable's Letter to Ghislebert Peter the Venerable, the great abbot of Cluny, was, by his own admission, a very busy man. In fact, he shocks us a bit by admitting that he read the letters from a Cluniac recluse named Ghislebert in Review for Religious his choir stall on Holy Saturday. He claims that he had simply not been able to find a moment to read them earlier. Peter may have been rushed, but he nevertheless knew something about the eremitical life. Not only did he himself periodically spend time in solitude, but he had pastoral experience in directing monks who sought a solitary retreat for a limited period or for life. There were actually a large number of hermits living in the woods near Cluny. Peter the Venerable, then, knew what he was talking about when he replied to Ghislebert's request for guidance. The key to Peter's advice is the emphasis he puts on the idea that, as a recluse, Ghislebert has been buried with Christ. We do not know the nature of the liturgical ceremony with which Ghislebert was committed to his cell, but other sources indicate that the idea of being buried with Christ and dead to the world was sometimes dramatically represented by using funeral rites to initiate such enclosure. In any case, Peter emphasizes that, if his effort to live as a recluse is going to succeed, Ghislebert had better be sure that he is indeed dead to the world and the world dead to him. To drive home the point, Peter quotes the desert father Arsenius: "Flee people, be silent, and you will be saved." In short, be what you have set out to be and all will be well. Although we may feel a little ill-at-ease with the medieval idea of the recluse being rather literally buried with Christ, it is obvious that any new solitary needs to make a definitive break with the world and his or her past to get off to a good start. He or she has to be serious about being marginal. But, for all the images of being cut off and buried, the reality is that a living human being goes into the desert. He or she wants to be there, of course, but the spiritual and especially the psychological conditioning to solitude is not achieved by a mere act of will. The hermit, in fact, begins with some interior dividedness. Part of the self has no interest in disappearing. Inevitably the life force will rise up against the isolation and denial of achievement that the solitary life demands. Hermits also soon discover, as the Carthusian Guigo II puts it, that they are a crowd unto themselves. They are, indeed, the doorway through which the world presses into the cell. They may succeed in finding a quiet spot on the sidelines of society, but the Hermits soon discover that they are a crowd unto themselves. November-December 2000 Russell ¯ The Dangers of Solitude internal vacuum created by their withdrawal makes them vulnerable to the imagination's readiness to reassert their right to a place in the world. Since hermits have what we might term a "weak" present, the mind tends to take refuge in either the past or the future. Bernard of Portes will highlight the way in which the past crowds into the hermit's mind. Peter the Venerable puts more emphasis on the daydreams about the future which exploit the hermit's status to draw him away from his solitude. He pictures the monk turned hermit imagining that he feels the tabs of a bishop's miter on the back of his necl~ or fantasizing that he is the wise, holy, and much admired abbot of a large monastic community. This is all nonsense, of course, and surely most beginners are as amused by the tricks the imagination plays as Peter the Venerable is. What is not funny is that these silly thoughts can trouble prayer. It is also true, unfortunately, that small threads can weave themselves into strong ropes. If hermits are not careful, they can convince themselves that they are made for something better than the sorry life of a solitary. A more serious pressure to "return from the dead" and reenter the hustle and bustle of.life, bit by bit, springs from the essential nature of the solitary existence. Hermits have to live without the external momentum that social interaction usually provides. They are not carried along by the excitement of what is going on at their workplace, nor can they look forward to parties or sports events to distract them. Unfortunately, unless solitaries maintain their focus on whatever is the task of the moment, their day-to-day existence will begin to feel dull and wearisome. The obvious way to relieve this lethargy is for the solitary to engage in a small amount of pastoral or counseling activity. This sounds like a psychologically sound idea, especially to modern Christians, who are more than a little suspicious of the way hermits pull away from the good causes "activists" think so important. Peter the Venerable, however, is not so sure. He is afraid that this public ministry will become addictive. Instead of relieving the hermits' boredom so that they can return to the solitary life refreshed, each turn outward makes solitude all the more unbearable and the turn away from it all the easier. What looks like a solution to the pressures of the eremitical regime can destroy a hermit's ability to live the solitary life. "Doing good" can do a hermit in. A second consequence of the turn outward is that the solitaries' Review for Religious availability attracts people who offer two enticing things: prestige and cash. Since the strict eremitical life deprives hermits of the ordinary opportunities to see themselves mirrored in the reaction of others, Peter the Venerable rightly fears that Ghislebert will take the high esteem in which he is held by those he helps as the true measure of his worth. The abbot sees a further danger in the money that the hermit will be offered for his services. With all the good intentions in the world, Ghislebert can easily find himself managing a little charitable fund which will grow, as such things do, until, as Peter puts it, he is putting up buildings and demolishing himself. Peter's point would seem to be that hermits who are not perfectly honest about their motivations can make a place for themselves in the world. They can keep an address in the woods, as it were, and still be part of society. The price they pay, unfortunately, is the abandonment of their original commitment. History offers many examples which confirm that the hardest thing in the world for solitaries is actually to be what they profess to be. Aelred of Rievaulx was very hard on the way in which solitaries drift into outside activities. He sharply admonished them to wake up to the facts of their vocation. "When you are pressured to get involved: Tu sede, tu tace, tu sustine. Sit still, keep quiet, and stick it out! Period! Leave the doing of good deeds to those who .have the responsibility for such tasks." The solitary's fundamental temptation, it seems, is to focus on something other than God. According to Peter, this can be anything from good works to an obsession with health or appearance. "Doing good" can do a hermit in. Bernard of Portes's Letter to Rainald The Carthusian Bernard of Portes agrees with Peter the Venerable that solitaries need to be on guard against the distractions that are likely to entice them away from their fundamental commitment. He is particularly sensitive, however, to the spiritual and psychological repercussions of the hermit's withdrawal from society. He understands very well that the social self will not go lightly into solitude. Though hermits are united to all believers and, indeed, all humanity in their union with Christ in his church, the social self wants to strut its stuff in the midst of the diversions November-December 2000 Russell * The Dangers of Solitude Hermits do not have the social status they enjoyed in the 12th century. of the marketplace. It does not want to be shut away with not much more than God to focus on. Therefore, Bernard warns Rainald that he must expect a spell of bad weather sooner or later. One day he might be hit by a wave of sadness and the next be in a bad mood and irritable. He will find tapes from his past running in his head while he reedits the script of what he said and did. A troupe of lewd thoughts will stage its floor show one day, and lukewarnmess flood in the next. It seems that there is no escape from these inner storms and flat stretches. Indeed, Bernard maintains that hermits go into the desert specifically t6 wrestle with these elements that distract us from God. They are, we might say, the psychological echoes of a hermit's attachment to the world he or she claims to have renounced. Bernard of Portes warns hermits that, because they are no longer carried along by the current of daily life in society, they will be the targets of acedia and sadness. Acedia, a listless psychospiritual condition, weighs so heavily on its victims that some escape from the boredom o'f the here and now into dreams of what has been and might yet be while others slip into the torpor of chronic fatigue. This affliction, which involves a hanging back from the initial vocational commitment and a failure to actualize it in the present moment, "detemporalizes" hermits. It weakens their focus on the here and now and sets them adrift. Therefore they look outward for things to occupy their mind and fill their time. Bernard says it is very important for hermits to give their life a certain self-generated dynamism by moving from one activity to another th~'oughout the day. Oddly enough, this is in accord with the traditional wisdom that the secret of the eremitical life is "Keep it moving." Bernard also emphasizes meditation and advises Rainald to be totally present to the words he is saying when he recites the Office. Bernard, it is quite clear, believes that acedia can be held at bay if a hermit puts his or her mind to it and lives in the present moment. Sadness, however, is another matter. Bernard seems convinced that an occasional period of feeling down is an inescapable feature of the eremitical life. Sadness is, I suppose, a pit into which an Review for Religious individual ill-suited for solitude might tumble, but this does not seem to be what Bernard has in mind. He is describing, not a chronic or pathological condition, but the normal downturns of life--which the hermit feels more intensely because of his or her isolation. On the spiritual level, the alternation of these strong and weak periods is inevitable in view of the ebb and flow of God's grace. If acedia pulls one away from the present, sadness can be said to sink one into it. Sadness is the clouding over of the eternal horizon of hope which draws us forward. Without the attraction of the ultimate goal--which is, remember, the sole dynamic element in a hermit's life--the individual is oppressed by the miseries of the present. For no good reason, anger can well up in the solitary and rail away at the self or other people: "Nothing they do is ever any good, and nothing I try ever works out!" Such slack times call for patience, because, once again, the temptation is to shift attention away from God and the love that is his due. The self, whether proud or inadequate, whether much sought after or neglected, must not become the primary object of the hermit's attention. Application to Modern Hermits Is any of this applicable to modern hermits living in country cabins and cheap city apartments? I think so. Times have certainly changed, but the leisure of the hermit can still go flat, and money remains a worrisome issue. Unlike their 12th-century counterparts, modern hermits do not have to figure out how to channel their excess funds to the poor without attracting a crowd of beggars, but they do have to worry about how to live apart from the world and still earn their keep. Unless they are supported by a religious congregation or order, paying their bills and providing some measure of stability in an unsettled time can be a real preoccupation. Indeed, it can shipwreck their project altogether. Pride, which Peter the Venerable and Bernard of Portes see as a major threat to hermits, would seem to be less of a worry these days. Solitaries are looked up to once again, but the applause is not unanimous. In fact, many people who give their lives to the service of Christ and his poor question the sense of such a calling. Certainly hermits do not have the social status they enjoyed in the 12th century. In any case, while many religious who become November-December 2000 Russell ¯ The Dangers of Solitude With no one else to worry about, they can become obsessed with every ache. solitaries identify themselves as hermits, most lay hermits have no official status of any kind. They live a hidden life which is just that, hidden. The lack of social status does not mean, of course, that hermits are immune to the temptation to take a little secret pride in the uniqueness of their calling. Pride, however, does not seem to be the great danger it was to hermits in the Middle Ages. Certainly relevant today, however, is the emphasis Peter the Venerable and Bernard of Portes put on the need for the hermit to exist in the now. This almost Buddhist focus on being present to the moment is for both of them basic to the eremitical life. Without this absorption in the here and now, distractions press in. The hermit, to borrow a phrase from the world of sports, "loses his or her concentration" on the worship of God in unending prayer. This is a major problem, but, given the restrictions of the solitary life, it manifests itself in small and sometimes silly ways. For example, hermits may get too wrapped up in their work or turn repairs to their dwelling into a full-scale redecorating project. They can become finicky fussbudgets who insist that every item in their cell be lined up just so. Worse yet, with no one else to worry about, they can become obsessed with every ache and sniffle. What are we to make of Peter the Venerable's condemnation of the tendency of hermits to make themselves useful to their fel-low Christians by offering them the fruit, as it were, of their con-templative silence? Must we conclude that he, and Bernard as well, would censure the spiritual direction and parish activities in which some contemporary hermits get involved? Not necessarily. In their letters both authors emphasize--and we must keep in mind that they were writing to recluses, that is, to solitaries who in theory were totally cut off from the world--that the singularity of the eremitical life means that hermits will have to work out what is best for them. Therefore, while Bernard borrows from the cus-toms of the Carthusians to make all kinds of suggestions to Rainald about the details of his life, he realizes that it is up to the hermit to exercise discretion in choosing what suits him. Consequently, we can conclude that, although Peter and Bernard show that it is easy for hermits to delude themselves about why they are rendering this or that occasional service, it is up to them to determine, after Review for Religious taking counsel, what fosters their aloneness with God and what hinders it. I suspect that there are times when novice solitaries, going through a dark period, might welcome the sight of a few demons raising cain in their living room. They might even be glad to summon up the self-absorption required for the drama of a first-class identity crisis. Anything exciting and novel would be a relief. What they have to contend with, however, day in and day out, as Peter and Bernard remind them, is the subtle task of remaining faithful to their original commitment in all kinds of psychological weather. They have much to gain and much to lose. Peter the Venerable and Bernard of Portes, who shared a high regard for the solitary life, warn them, therefore, to take care. Notes ' Thomas Merton, "Notes for a Philosophy of Solitude," in his Disputed Questions (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1960; Noonday Book, 1976), p. 165. 2 A Rule of Life for a Recluse, trans. Mary Paul MacPherson, in The Works of Aelred of Rievaulx, Vol. 1: Treatises, The Pastoral Prayer, Cistercian Fathers Series, no. 2 (Spencer, Massachusetts: Cistercian Publications, 1971). 3 Neither the letter of Peter the Venerable to Ghislebert nor Bernard of Portes's letter to Rainald has, as far as I know, been translated into English. The Latin text and a French translation of Bernard's letter can be found in Lettres des premiers chartreux, Vol. 2, introduction, critical text, French translation, and notes by "un chartreux" (Sources chr~tiennes, no. 274; Paris: Cerf, 1980), pp. 50-79. For the Latin text of Peter's letter, see Giles Constable, The Letters of Peter the Venerable, Vol. 1 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1967), pp. 27-41. November-December 2000 MARY BETH MOORE A Spiritual Direction Connie drew the heavy drape across the window, noting the ast gray light filtering from the west. She turned on a small lamp on one side of the room and lit the vanilla candle at the other. Immediately its aroma permeated the small space. She selected a Mozart disc from the handful of CDs near the love seat, placed it carefully on the turntable, pressed play, and adjusted the volume so that the maestro's graceful, precise notes were barely audible, as subtle as the candle. She paused, looking slowly to each corner until satisfied by the atmosphere she had created. Free of clutter, the parlor was just large enough for the love seat, chair, and coffee table. She sat down on the chair. Connie never sat until she was satisfied. She was a short, heavy woman and, since it was not easy for her to get out of a chair, she considered the act of getting into it. She had a few moments before her guest arrived, and this time was also planned. The guest or, more precisely, the directee required the kind of attention one must work up to. So she made an effort to appreciate the room for its own sake. She awaited the security these preparations usually brought. She summoned the attitude of inner peace which any directee had a right to expect of her, breathing deeply, ignoring the slight pulse in her legs, ankles, even noting the contradiction between attending to a pleas-ant carnal sensation--the candle--and determinedly shutting out the unpleasant. She made herself breathe. Connie had been a spiritual director for almost twenty years, Mary Beth Moore SC writes from 3496 Jerusalem Avenue; Wantagh, New York 11793. Review for Religious and people liked her. She had talent in this abstruse area, and she knew this because her directees said so. Most of her clients were nuns, participants in a lifestyle whose subtle conflicts she knew as her own, having been a nun now for forty years. Relationships: community, friends, principals, superiors. Even, occasionally, a romantic entanglement. And, of course, the relationship with God. Connie never told them what to do. She listened. She asked ques-tions. She recalled for the searcher his or her own best qualities. (Yes, even the occasional priest or layman found his way to her.) Generosity. Loyalty. Courage. Connie never mi~de these things up. Yes, that was the talent. Seemingly from thin air, she would recall a point the directee had made two months before, or ask precisely the right question. "What must you do to grow in this sit-uation?" The question was perhaps trite, but the answers never were. Stammering or articulate, passionate or cool, the directee usually responded with a perfectly credible plan of action, one whose truthfulness went to the heart of the matter. She had learned to expect the creativity that her directees brought with them. Still, Connie did not consider herself creative. She thought of herself as a modest person, and attributed the results to God's grace. When she looked in the mirror, she saw a face that had always been plain, and was now old. Of course, Connie had not once seen her own brown eyes transformed with the glow of the full attention she gave to the directees. They simply thanked her. She expected nothing more. At the sound of the doorbell, Connie took hold of the chair arms and, giving herself a boost, stood and steadied herself before crossing the short distance to the front door. She was pleasantly nervous for this encounter with her client, and she hurried as much as she could, knowing how uncomfortable it was to wait at her door. The Bronx brownstone faced southeast toward the Sound and Long Island, and through the winter a stiffwind blew almost steadily. She opened the door to see a petite woman framed against the dark corridor of the street, hopping around on the stoop to cope with the cold. The sky behind her was clear, but dark. The city lights obliterated all but the highest-hung stars. "Marilyn, my dear, come in quickly before the wind knocks you down." "It almost did. I parked a block away, and--" "Did you meet much traffic?" Connie took Marilyn's coat and shivered at the cold that rolled off of it. November-December 2000 Moore ¯ A Spiritual Direction "Som'e, as usual. The Cross Bronx is always crowded." "Oh, that's a terrible road. I always feel glad when I turn off. A cup of tea before we start?" "I would love it, if it's no trouble. It sounds so good." "No trouble at all. Go in and make yourse.lf comfortable. I'll be right back." She indicated the room she had just prepared, and waited to be sure her guest was seated before disappearing into the inner quarters to make tea. She returned with a tray and two steaming cups. They were silent as they fixed the tea to their lik-ing. Part of Connie's skill was to suppress small talk as the pre-lude to spiritual direction. Chatter cluttered the spirit, she believed. She had once lived as a hermit for three months, and the disci-pline served her well. After a suitable interval she moved to her cus-tomary opener. "So, tell me, what brings you to spiritual direction?" "Ah, yes. Well, I have the intuition, this notion. It haunts me and I feel almost, I don't know, maybe, embarrassed to share it. Or even ashamed--though maybe that is too strong a word. I've tried to discuss it, get a hold, but I." Connie listened as the other woman stuttered, and felt a tug of compassion. She leaned ever so slightly toward her, her eyes widening to lend support to the recitation. A sexual problem per-haps. Everything supposedly out in the open these days, but the unique turns of the human heart, and the struggle to articulate them! She waited. ". this notion, and others don't want to hear, or maybe can't hear. Almost a conviction actually." "A conviction that ." Connie was poised, waiting for the other to look up. "I don't want to offend you, as well. But I suppose it's foolish to come and beat around the bush. You see--" "'I assure you, my dear, I won't be offended. I'm eager to hear what you have to say." "A conviction that it's over. Over, over, over." Connie frowned, noted the slightest wave of impatience with the conversation's turn. "You'll have to tell me what 'it' is, I think." "This." She spread her hands as if her meaning should be obvi-ous, indicating the candle, the lamp, and Connie herself with thrusts of her chin. "Convents. Middle-aged women living in polite little groups, good-hearted, but accommodated. Comfortable. Convents, parlors, single beds, obsessive neatness, vanilla candles. Over." Review for Religious "Leave my candle out of it, at least," Connie said, more emphatically than she had intended. She was offended, but she did not realize it quite yet. "O.K. Your candle may be spared." Marilyn grinned. "But as for the other elements, well, the writing is on the wall." "Nebuchadnezzar? A kingdom about to fall?" Connie tried to get her bearings. The other's hesitancy had disappeared, her voice got stronger by the sentence, and Connie began to think that her earlier, tentative approach might have been a ploy. "Yes. That's exactly right, Connie. The humble kingdom we built for ourselves that did so much good. Children we taught, sick we nursed. It was a world in itself, a kingdom if you will. We had a place in a religiosity that was shared by Catholics every-where. In that Catholic world, we had a mystique of holiness, otherness. We were a cheap labor pool. Now others can do what we did, without living a special way of life." She took deep breath while Connie waited with alarm. "I believe our lifestyle is ending." Buy time. That was Connie's second idea, after the first one, something like, who do you think you are? Who are you, sup-posedly asking me for help, boldly upending a tradition? One that needs no defense. "I must keep eye contact," she thought. "Marilyn, too, is a committed religious, sincere, middle-aged, a seeker like myself." She was unused to such a strong emotion that was not compassion. She focused with effort. "Fall back on tech-nique," she urged herself. When she finally spoke, her voice was light. "Well, that's radical, for sure. Possibly a bit reductive. I'll need some time to take in the idea. But, in any case, you know that spir-itual direction does not provide answers. Why don't you tell me about your prayer. What's happening there?" "Connie, don't you see? That is what's happening. I pray, but I feel afraid. This sense of winding down . . . it, it assaults me. This is the result of my reading the signs of the times. And, very selfishly, I wonder what will happen to us. I'd actually like some-body to refute me." "'Prayer is the balance of mind and heart. Perhaps you think too much." November-December 2000 Moore ¯ A Spiritual Direction "Prayer is the balance of mind and heart. Perhaps you think too much." "Oh, maybe. It's just when I have an insight I always think it's correct. I'm not pious, either." Marilyn's voice had softened. Connie saw that she had heard her words as a correction, as in fact they had been. She had men-tioned fear, a key word in Connie's work, the rope binding the spirit, an adversary of growth. Usually Connie would have asked about it, but this evening it suddenly seemed like too much trou-ble. She was impatient, her back began to ache. She sought for a middle ground. "Or perhaps I think too little. You're a challenge to me, and I'm not sure if I can be as objective as I like. Can you"--she searched for the way back to Marilyn's point--"can you stay with the questions?" She got a little stronger. "Ride the questions." Marilyn thrust out her chin, as if shg regarded the question as an object in the room. There was a pulse of silence. "Yeah. That's a good idea." She smiled and looked at Connie with a glint of humor. "Good luck. I'll pray with you." There was a notable pause, and Connie sighed before turn-ing to topics of lesser import. Her back pain was easing, and she felt relieved that the conversation had returned to a manageable place. She was no coward. She had borne others' tears and rage at God. But a messy squabble with herself as partner was not at all congenial. She had put the balance back. She would pray with and for Marilyn. Both were careful to refrain from gossip in the spiritual-direc-tion setting; the set of those who chose such support was small, and many knew each other. Still, there were allowable facts--some-one's new job, an elderly sister's passing. And, after the intense discussion of the inner life, it was consoling to take in the mellow light and the full attention, each from the other. When they had finished the tea, and the candle wax threatened to spill on the table top, Marilyn moved to go. Connie helped her with her coat, saw her out into the cold air. The street was quieter now and a single star, maybe a planet, winked above the streetlights. She closed the door and went back to her direction room to turn off the light and blow out the candle. The wax had leaked onto the table into a viscous pool. "Ride the question," she repeated softly aloud to herself. She had been pleased to hit upon a phrase Revie~v for Religious that seemed to help her directee, but, as she turned it over in her mind now, looking at the empty room, it sounded trite, facile. The dialogue with Marilyn echoed in her mind, and a sensation rip-pled quickly, like the hint of an unpleasant duty she could not quite remember. She stepped away from the room with unusual haste and headed for the community recreation room and her favorite TV program. When Connie got to the community room, Sarah was watch-ing a public TV program--something about endangered species-- with the intensity of a graduate student. While she made eye contact with Connie, she held up a forefinger to postpone conversation until the program seg-ment ended. Connie sank into the chair and waited. She did not mind. It was more inter-esting to observe Sarah than to watch the parade of facts on the screen. She could easily see in the woman the ardent girl she had taught thirty years before, and, in her unsettled state of mind, that girl seemed to inhabit the room again. Sarah's field was biology, and she brought her expertise along with boundless energy to a nonprofit agency that monitored the environ-ment. Connie studied her with detached affec-tion. What was it that made Sarah so interesting? The combination of ambition and idealism, thought Connie. She was the perfect nun for our time. Connie mused about the effect of her own ministry. She had joined Sarah and the others in the brownstone house the year she finished her term as novice director. It had been her initiative to work free-lance in spiritual direction, and the community con-firmed' her choice. Her clients found her by word of mouth. She spent her day much as she had with the novices, in a disciplined but unhurried rhythm of prayer, study, and client appointments. It was Sarah who persuaded Connie to get a paying job two years ago. Some of the sisters in her own house had argued against it, but Sarah persisted. She pointed out to Connie that she com-plained about being the one to answer telephone solicitations and wait for plumbers. Sarah, the realist, reminded the community that their income base was shrinking, since the elderly sisters far outnumbered the younger wage-earners. Connie began to mind She could see in the woman the ardent girl she had taught thirty years before. November-December 2000 Moore ¯ A Spiritual Direction not having even a modest paycheck to present for the running of the house, and the quota for the retired sisters' care. The only thing she did not tell Sarah and the others was that she was tired of not having tales to "tell at supper about the outside world they inhabited each day. What could she say about spiritual direction? In that field there were no general issues, no little anecdotes, to report, only secrets of the heart whose value was discovered as the directee conferred it. So Connie took a job as the secretary in a little Catholic school in the Bronx. She bolstered the idealistic young man who was prin-cipal and lent an ear to the parents who rushed through with for-gotten lunches and umbrellas. She now had tales for the dinner table with the community, and savored even more the evenings of direction. She did not allow herself to miss the easy pace she had once enjoyed. She was often tired. She worried intermittently about losing weight, especially when Sarah inaugurated a new restric-tion in the community diet. She gave up insisting that they buy whole milk: it was not worth the commentary on cholesterol. But these were small .annoyances, predictable, familiar. If the occa-sional ache or pain pressed itself too deeply into her conscious-ness, her mind might leap to the future for a moment. But the pain subsided, or was integrated into what she chose to put up with. It was against her principles to measure herself by a worldly standard. She gazed at the TV for a bit, savoring the comfort of her (avorite chair until the program finished and Sarah pressed the mute button. "How was your day?" Connie asked. "Really productive," Sarah answered brightly. "I spent the morning editing that junior high 'natural city' curriculum. Jake did a great job with the project and I told him so. Then I had a meeting with the Friends of the Harbor committee. Giuliani's guy stopped in. Nice person actually, said he would continue to press our concerns with the mayor. He sounded sincere, but we'll keep the pressure on anyway. Peter was pleased." "Peter?" "Grossman, the earth sciences professor from Bronx Community College, that one who chairs--" "Oh yes, I remember him." Connie made it a point to keep up with the cast of cha[acters that peopled Sarah's offbeat job. "Did Jake's wife have the baby yet?" Review for Religious "Three days ago! I thought I'd told you. Mother and daugh-ter are doing fine." Sarah described the particulars of the birth in detail, then trained eager eyes on Connie. "How was your day?" Connie's mind returned to her session, where a seasoned nun had suggested that religious life would become a thing of the past. It was an abstract idea, after all. The common room she shared now with Sarah was perfectly real and stable. The house had been paid for. "Connie, your day?" Sarah's voice called her from her reverie. "Anything wrong?" "Wrong? Oh no." She hesitated. "Do you think about the future, Sarah? I mean our community. Do you think there will be nuns living in this house in twenty years? Youngish nuns, enthu-siastic like yourself, women who believe in prayer, the vows? Some of my directees"--she tried to be deliberately vague--"a few think our way of living is a thing of the past." Sarah frowned. "It could be, you know. Let's face it. No one has joined the community at all in the past five years, and those of us in it aren't getting any younger. It could be. But, hey, God our Mother will bring to birth something new. Birth, growth, decay, matter recycle into new growth. It's a universal process. Why should we escape it?" She reached for the TV wand."Do you want to watch anything else?" "You've thought about this?" "Oh, it crosses my mind now and again. Shall I turn this off?." Sarah waved the remote again. "Sure." Connie could see that Sarah was preparing to leave the community room, and a wave of desolation passed over her. She longed to call out, "Please don't go, yet," but she knew perfectly well such a request would startle Sarah. "She'd probably think I'm having some kind of attack," Connie thought. "What reason could I give for the need of her presence?" Nothing came to her. Sarah was at the door now, turning back, her gaze objective and ldnd. "You O.K., Connie?" "I'm just fine," Connie answered quickly. "Sufficient for the day is the trouble thereof." Sarah was satisfied. "Sleep well, then." "You too." Connie was alone now in the familiar room, and hothing could threaten her. Soon her strange moment of panic would pass, and she would move to her usual routine, fold back the newspaper, November-December 2000 Moore ¯ A Spiritual Direction enjoy the silence. She had an honorable job. She loved Sarah, and the others with whom she lived and shared an uncomplicated love of friendship. She scanned the headlines, then tossed them aside to read the Arts page, a book review, but she struggled to concen-trate. "Loneliness has no hold over me," she thought. Loneliness and solitude were the same companion in different dress, the bite of one and the consolation of the other alternating throughout her days. But the mood of release she sought at the end of the day still eluded her. She focused on the gratitude she must render for the events of the day, and recalled a grandmother who had come to the school to deliver a forgotten lunch. In her mind's eye she could see the weary black face transformed with smiles when the child hove into view. But, when the memory dimmed, a keen discomfort reasserted itself. She pushed through her rote evening prayer, "Now Lord you may dismiss your servant in peace, for my eyes have seen your sal-vation. A light of revelation to the Gentiles and a glory for your people Israel." Simeon, welcoming his life's end, having seen the object of his heart's desire. "He was lucky," she thought. The prayer did not seem to help at all. She turned off the light in the common room and made her way out by the light of the street lamp filtering through the blinds. She turned toward the kitchen. "A nice cup of tea," she thought. "It will clear my mind." She made the tea. She measured out her usual two spoonfuls of sugar, tasted it, then furtively added a third. She sipped it slowly and regarded the clock, whose subtle whine could be heard in the silence. "I tell my directees to face their fears. And so must I," Connie concluded. "What was it, then, old age?" But she dismissed this quickly. Maybe prettier, fitter women, yes, even nuns might struggle with this, but she had never known herself that way. She had long ago accommodated herself to aches and wrinkles. Nor was it fear of death. Not yet. Her mother, her aunts, stout women all, had lived into their nineties. "I probably have a few decades in me," she mused. What had Marilyn said? "It's over." That was the phrase that had ripped her, as if a web of equilibrium she hardly knew existed was torn, and its sundering had discovered a category of feeling she could not recognize. "Now, Lord, you may dismiss your servant in peace, because my eyes have seen your salvation." Simeon's words came back Review for Religious again, with the picture of the bearded sage, smiling and content, holding an infant whom he knew certainly to be the savior. Who did he think he was? "I'm jealous of him," she thought. And, since the habit of honesty was well established, Connie began to name the struggle. The child Simeon held had just been named Jesus, newly circumcised, accompanied by proud parents. She was jealous of Simeon's proximity, his luck to be in the right place at the right time. She was envious of the consolation of touch, the embrace that illuminated him, at once revealing the true iden-tity of the child. But most of all she was jealous of his certainty. As a young idealistic woman, and through all the vicissitudes of the years, she had fallen back on the certainty that she was doing God's will. And, just as the meeting with a newborn child had transformed Simeon from a bumbling old man into a prophet, so she had thought her lifestyle would transform her. She looked around the kitchen slowly, scrutinizing the cabi-nets, the fridge. Stalling. The fear she felt was not provoked by the encounter with Marilyn, but rather unmasked by it. Fear, raw fear, as when a young child is lost in a crowded arena. Connie placed both hands on the teacup and concentrated on the warmth that spread to her palms. She recalled, with effort, that she was an adult. But, slowly, understanding came to her. What was threatened was certainty and specialness. The fear in her belly suggested that she had bartered for those goods with the austerity of her lifestyle and her vows. Yet she herself had taught the basic truth of spiri-tual direction so many times: All that is not love must be rooted out. She could not blame anyone or anything external for her new situation. She sat thus at the kitchentable for a long while, and the tea, untouched, grew cold. By and by she simply admitted that an inner battle was just beginning; she might as well go to bed. Fear would come and go, and grief, too, must attend the process. She lay in bed, listening to the faint sounds of traffic, making an effort to yield to sleep in order to be ready for the next day. But, as she was poised on the mysterious shelf before consciousness falls away, a phrase floated up from the well of memory, a saying she would work with for months to come, "Though a bird be tied to earth by only a thread, still he cannot fly." November-December 2000 a witness response DENNIS j. BILLY Contemplative Religious Witness: A Redemptoristine Monastery At the end of each academic year, I leave my work at the Alphonsian Academy in Rome and spend the summer months as an author in residence at Mount St. Alphonsus, the Redemptorist retreat center in Esopus, New York. During my time there, one of the responsibilities I share with the other members of my community is to celebrate Eucharist at the nearby Redemptoristine monastery of Our Mother of Perpetual Help. This small community of contemplative nuns devotes itself to being what their 18th-century Neapolitan foundress, Maria Celeste Crostarosa (1696- 1755), called a "living memory" of the Holy Savior. My close contact with the sisters there has helped me appreciate more deeply the contemplative dimension of my own vocation. It has also helped me see the intimate relationship between the Redemptorist and Redemptoristine callings, two very different lifestyles-- one apostolic, the other contemplative--deeply devoted to a common charism of proclaiming "plentiful redemption" in Christ. Dennis J. Billy CSSR, a frequent contributor to this review, may be addressed at Accademia Alfonsiana; C.P. 2458; 00100 Roma; Italy. R~view for Religious Spousal Love As a community of women entirely dedicated to contemplation, the sisters at Perpetual Help Monastery maintain a spirit of separation but openness to the world around them. They follow the norms of papal enclosure as laid out in church law and interpreted by their Constitutions and Statutes, but do so with a keen sensitivity that their contemplative vocation places them at the very heart of the local church. In the spirit of Vatican Council II, they have also renewed their way of life to be more in keeping with the spirit and charism of their foundress. In doing so, they have attempted to adapt the contemplative life to the exigencies of North American culture while at the same time taking care to maintain the significant countercultural and eschatological witness that religious life in general and the contemplative life in particular seeks to convey. The result is a small but dedicated group of women religious whose lives are deeply immersed in the mystery of Christ and his body, the church. Verbi sponsa, the recent Vatican instruction on contemplative life and the norms of papal enclosure, describes cloistered nuns as becoming, with the Virgin Mary, "the 'living memory' of the church's spousal love" (§1). I could not read these words without thinking of the special meaning they would have for the Redemptoristines at Esopus and throughout the world. Mary's close.relationship to her Son places her in a position of humble service toward all who turn to her. "To Jesus through Mary" was the way St. Alphonsus de Liguori (1696- 1787) liked to express Mary's role in the economy of salvation. Everything she does is meant to lead us to a closer, more intimate relationship with her Son. Her loving and heartfelt fiat in Luke's Gospel reminds us that it could not be otherwise. Her response to the angel reveals a deep trust in God's trust in her. She became the Mother of God because of her spousal relationship with God, which was itself a gift from God to her and, through her, to all the world. When seen in this light, to be with Mary a "living memory of the church's spousal love" leads quite naturally (perhaps it would be better to say "supernaturally") to being a "living memory of the redeeming Christ." Each remembrance is a single dimension of a To be with Mary a "living memory of the church's spousal love". Ly-95---2 November-December 2000 Billy ¯ Contemplative Religious Witness much larger reality: you cannot have one without the other. Keenly aware of this connection, the Redemptoristines at Esopus proclaim their spousal love for their risen Lord at their daily Eucharist, where he eats with them, drinks with them, and caresses them with the gentle, calming breeze of his Spirit. A Eucharistic Community It is often said that something is not fully experienced until it is remembered. If this saying is true, then the Redemptoristines' desire to become a "living memory" of their Lord must foster a deeper experience of Jesus' presence in their hearts and in their midst. One need only consider the deep spirit of prayerfulness that fills their daily celebration of the Eucharist to see that this is so. These simple celebrations tap into the hidden life of contemplation going on in the deepest recesses of their hearts and reveal the height and depth and breadth of the paschal mystery. The daily Eucharist is the center of the sisters' lives. It immerses them in the mystery of God's love which their lives espouse and puts them in intimate contact with their risen Lord. The Eucharist reminds them of the "eucharistic quality" of the cloistered life itself (see Verbi sponsa, §3). Separation from the world enables the sisters to be present t6 the world on a much deeper level. It enables them to share not only in Jesus' life of kenotic self-offering, but also to join him in his eternal act of thanksgiving to the Father. This close connection between the Eucharist and the sisters' contemplative vocation touches the very heart of the redemptive mystery. It affirms Jesus' ongoing presence in their community and gives meaning to every dimension of their largely hidden life of prayer. The sisters' daily remembrance of Jesus is possible only because of Jesus' continual remembrance of them. They seek to be a living memorial to the living memorial he has left them in the Eucharist. They, more than anyone else I have met, take to heart Jesus' words "Do this in memory of me." In this light, life in the Redemptoristine cloister at Esopus takes on the threefold dimensions of banquet, sacrifice, and presence that characterize the mystery of every Eucharistic celebration. Being a "living memo~ry" of Jesus, in other words, means seeking to give nourishment to others (banquet) through a humble offering of self (sacrifice) in the name and in the company of Jesus, who is "Emmanuel, God wi~h us" (presence). The Review for Religious Eucharist, in other words, not only is the summit of their lives, but permeates everything they do. Without it, there is no way they could continue or even survive. From Death to Life I once had the occasion to experience this eucharistic quality of the sisters' lives in a profound and beautiful way. Sister Mary Regina, one of the sisters in the community, was nearing death after a long-drawn-out battle with cancer. This was happening at the very time I had been scheduled to lead the sisters in their annual ten-day retreat. After learning that Regina's death was drawing near, I fully expected the retreat to be canceled (or at least postponed), since the sisters' hearts were heavy with sorrow and their schedule was already overloaded by the "round the clock" attention Regina's condition demanded. I was ~urprised, therefore, to learn that the community wanted the retreat to go on, despite the added strain it would put on them. I was even more surprised (but also delighted) when, on the first day of the retreat, the prioress asked if it would be all right to celebrate Mass in the infirmary so that Regina could attend from her sickbed. That Eucharistturned out to be the last Regina would ever share in--at least on this side of death. The breaking of the bread took on special significance as we celebrated in the presence of one whose life was ebbing away. The nearness of death brought a special solemnity to our celebration. Regina's silence added depth to our words; her gaze, a quiet calm to our troubled, questioning hearts. The knowledge that she would not be with us much longer affected the way we prayed. Everyone in the room seemed to have one eye fixed on the Lord and the other one on her. And that was the way it should have been, the way the Lord himself wanted it. This was Regina's moment. With her community around her, she was free to be herself before her Lord. Firmly fixed on the host, her eyes told us in a quiet, nonverbal way that Jesus was with her in a way he had never been before. So it is, I believe, with all of us at or near the time of death. Each one of us must one day drink from the same cup. Now it was Regina's turn. Separation from the world enables the sisters to be present on a much deeper level. November-December 2000 Billy ¯ Contemplative Religious Witness Near the end of Mass, I looked around the room and experienced that sense of communion that can only come from hearts united by their common yearning for God. As my eyes moved from face to face, I could sense the pain that the community as a whole and each of its members was experiencing as a result of Regina's illness and imminent death. I could also sense the deep love that bound them to each other and, at this special moment, to Regina. In the midst of the sadness, my gratitude deepened and gave way to a deep sense of peace. The Lord was with us, and that was all that mattered. I closed my eyes and imagined myself in the upper room. The Heart of the Church Contemplatives, we are told, live at the very heart of the church. On this day I was grateful for this brief glimpse God had given me into the heart of a contemplative community. There the simple mysteries of life and death are recognized, pondered, and celebrated. There human existence is plumbed to its depths and experienced in all its wonder and heightened fragility. There the restlessness of the human heart forages in the darkness of divine mystery. There God is allowed to be God and is welcomed, however he chooses to come. Very few of us ai'e called to live as contemplatives in the heart of the church. Those who hear the call and respond to it often find that they have been driven to it by the relentless pursuit of a passionate divine Lover. Happiness would elude them anywhere else. Only there, in the cloister, can they give themselves exclusively to God with all their heart, mind, soul, and strength. Their hidden life behind their monastery walls is the visible reminder of what they have left behind--and journeyed into. So essential is it to the good of the whole that it recedes, almost by necessity, to the background of life's numerous surface activities. Like the heart itself, it is never seen, rarely heard, seemingly still, but always pumping. The heart, one might say, is an appropriate metaphor for monastic enclosure itself. Some of the most vital activity in the entire body takes place within the narrow, confining chambers of the heart. These otherwise empty cavities are formed by the inner contours of the heart's muscle fibers. The constant expansion and contraction of these tissues forces the blood through the chambers Review for Religious and creates enough pressure to make it flow throughout the rest of the body. In a similar way the empty spaces within the cloister are visibly shaped by the rules of monastic enclosure which, firm yet flexible, allow the life of the contemplative community to distinguish itself from the rest of Christ's body in order to perform for it a special function. Here the all-important apostolic dimension of the contemplative life comes to light. The contemplative community plumbs the depths of the Spirit so that the life of the Spirit may flow more freely to all the members of the body. Here the law of inverted magnitudes operates in full force. The contemplative community confines itself in time and space in order to open itself up to and move more deeply into the sacred. This simultaneous movement ("juxtaposition," if you will) of contraction and expansion is at the center of the contemplative experience. Although not everyone is called to live a life of monastic enclosure, all of us are called to foster a contemplative attihade toward life. For us to do so, this dynamic .movement of physical withdrawal and spiritual expansion must somehow come into play for each of us. Active and Contehaplative I began these reflections by stating that my contact with the Redemptoristine community at Esopus has given me a deeper appreciation of the contemplative dimension of my vocation as a Redemptorist, missionary. I also like to think that, in some way, the appreciation has been mutual, giving rise in them to a deeper sense of the apostolic dimension of their lives as contemplative religious. We share a single charism which, although expressed in drastically different lifestyles, brings to light the plentiful redemption wrought for us in the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Contemplative religious, we have seen, live in the very heart of the church. The Redemptoristines, to my mind, do much the same for the apostolic mission of the Redemptorist congregation. Both orders, after all, share common origins and embrace the same motto: Copiosa apud eum redemptio ("With him there is plentiful redemption"). To follow the Lord in his work for the poor and most abandoned (as Redemptorists try to do) is closely tied to being a "living memory" of the risen Lord (as the sisters try to be). Each order focuses on a different dimension of the one redemptive mystery and, for this very reason, is intimately related to the other. Noventber-December 2000 My experience at Esopus has taught me that contemplative religious can best contribute to the apostolic mission of the church by simply being themselves and living whatever Rule they follow with patience, humility, and deep compassion. In doing so, they reveal the depth of their humanity and remind us of the intimacy we are all called to share with the divine. The eucharistic quality of their lives enables them to celebrate the present moment-- whatever it may bring--by sharing the gifts of self-offering and sensitive personal presence. Their life of solitude places them at the very heart of the church's life and ongoing mission. Their enclosed life offers the world a countercultural and eschatological sign of what is still to come, yet somehow already mysteriously present in the deepest recesses of the human heart. Like the Redemptoristines at Esopus, contemplative religious are called to lose themselves in the mystery of the divine in order to find themselves in the face of the very next person they meet. They plumb the depths of human experience in order to move more deeply into the sacred and live in intimate spousal union with their divine Lover. All of them are living reminders of the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. All are visible expressions of the church's living memory of what took place in the person of Jesus Christ and takes place today in his body, the church. Theirs is a message for all times, all places, and all circumstances. Those who hear it will recognize the need to foster in themselves a contemplative attitude toward life. Those who do not will miss a unique opportunity to peer beneath the surface of life and behold, as never before, the innermost treasures of the human heart. Review for Religious ANDRI~ MAUREEN SOETE A Vowed Response to the Postmodern World Tphosetm choadrearcnte wriostrilcds asryem bpetionmgs s, taunddie rde aalnitdie ps roofb oeudr bsyo -sccailelend-tists, sociologists, anthropologists, philosophers, and theologians. All seek to understand the reality, foresee the consequences, and arrive at some satisfactory description and response. Since I am not a theologian, scientist, philosopher, or any of the above, I do not claim to understand this reality, much less propose responses. What I offer is simply my own response as a woman religious, specifically a School Sister of Notre Dame. The Situation of Our Age Postmodern issues have been touching us and coming into our consciousness for some time now. Our world is rapidly chang-ing, and what we once thought were objective, unchangeable real-ities are in fact changing. The "way to be" and the "way to do" for the present generation seems so different from our way. What can all this mean to SSND sisters and associates at this time? This time of change may feel like a breakdown. The world has become so different that we may not like it and may question Andr,~ Maureen Soete SSND has ministered in Japan for thirteen years. This article is the address she gave to an assembly of Japanese and North American School Sisters of Notre Dame in Kyoto on 9 January 2000. Her address is 11 ol Kawarada-cho; Matsugasaki; Sakyo-ku; Kyoto 606, Japan. November-December 2000 Soete * A Vowed Response the direction in which it is heading. Envisioning ourselves living in this new age, we may have the feeling that we do not fit, for what we understood as reality is being challenged. This is not just the usual generation-gap experience that we have all probably experienced from one side or the other. This phenomenon has been observed by many since the first hints of it in the 1970s and is obviously a real cultural shift. The choices for different lifestyles, the questioning of what we considered permanent values, and the challenges to our thinking are in some ways unnerving. We may catch ourselves longing for the good old days--the secure structures, the way students "used to be," and the way convent life was. It almost tempts us to choose to respond by retreating--by going back. These times are being described by the word chaos. Some of the chaotic things that people observe and study are political, eco-nomic, and social oppression; poverty, starvation, and unemploy-ment; the oppression of women; the ecological crisis; nuclear threat; secularism, materialism, and the failure of churches to renew themselves and inspire belief. Chaos causes a great deal of anxiety, but it also provides us with the moment and the call to rediscover our real story and our deepest roots. How Our Foundress Would Respond As followers of Mother Theresa Gerhardinger, we can ask ourselves how she would manage in this age, how .she would respond if she were alive today. We know that our answer would have something to do with our charism. What is it that she passed on to us that is ageless? What is the changeless essence that will survive these times and even give us the hope we need to go on? When we think of Mother Theresa responding to her time and day we think of a strong woman of prayer, a woman of God, a woman in touch with the reality and needs of her day, a woman animated and energized by the conviction that women can change the world, a woman who knew that, if people can change, the world can cMnge too. But at the root of all these images of her was her sense of God's desire and call "that all be one." She longed for the oneness of all in God. She was a woman willing to strug-gle for unity on every level. She could see unity in diversity, for she believed in the rights of individuals and the respect due to each person. She learned the Review for Religious lessons essential for real unity--lessons of love, respect, appreci-ation, tolerance, and trust--first from her own parents and later from her mentors Bishop Wittmann and Father Job. These were her models, inspiring her to foster the same values among her sis-ters and her society. It was her commitment to unity and her drive "to make one" that gave her tireless energy for mission, and could give us the same tireless energy. The Postmodern Age The academic world has come to use the term "postmodern" in an attempt to name this period of the world's history because this is the period in which people are reacting to all that is false and untrue, all that has not worked in our familiar modern age. In some way the choice of the name "postmodern" is like calling the butterfly a "postcaterpillar." "Postcaterpillar" might be a suitable name during the period when we observe that the caterpillar is no more, that what was once the caterpillar now seems dead or half dead, changing unaccountably. But once we see the beautiful creature with bright wings emerge, flutter freely, and take flight, we find ourselves calling it a "butterfly." Similarly, because of the lack of clarity about the future, schol-ars describe the present reality by noting changes from the earlier condition.When all of the characteristics of this age become clear and show some coherence, it will be time to give the new period a name. The world may not reach that point in our lifetimes, but I hope that all of us want to be a part of the creation of the new name. We can do that by appropriately influencing, shaping, and creating some of the characteristics that will emerge. I suggest that a principal characteristic must be unity. That same oneness that was Christ's mission and Theresa Gerhardinger's mission must be our mission too. Failure of the Modern Age The modern age promised us that by science and technology, by dividing the whole, dissecting and labeling every part, and con-trasting one thing with another, it could understand and solve the problems of our world and probe the depths of reality. It promised that the world would be controlled and developed and perfected, and that human beings would reach great heights. But science November-December 2000 [--~2 ¯ Soete ¯ A Vowed Response Our prosperity and plenty come to us on the backs of the poor and oppressed. itself has had to admit that the mysteries of the world are far beyond such probing; that our scientific advances have actually destroyed much of our world and have led us to live in fear of some scientific developments; that actually, in spite of all of our sci-entific progress, we have missed opportunities to expand and develop our spiritual and human potential and have inst(ad created horrendous human misery. MI of the human misery in the world today is a sign that these former beliefs are not working. When I think of the oppression, poverty, ecological recklessness, uncontrolled materialism, and other problems of our day, I can understand why a new generation rejects our old answers. When I hear dogmatic pronouncements from our churches or from our governments about how things should be and see that those very pronouncements bring about more division than unity and hope alnong peoples, I can understand why some of my own young nieces and nephews reject them as incomplete, irrelevant, without meaning in their lives. It is probably true that there have always been famines, always children abused, always conflicts among religious groups, always people oppressed and exploited and murdered--but we have not always known about them with such immediate clarity. Now, thanks to advances in technology, we do. We are informed immediately about what is happening around the world. And we know now what the prophets and economists have been telling us for a long time, that our prosperity and plenty come to us on the backs of the poor and oppressed. And now the poor and oppressed know that too. We can see all of the "signs of the times" on our nightly news programs. It is up to us to read them carefully, interpret them honestly, and respond accordingly. If society is not organizing itself so as to be inclusive of all citizens, but chooses rather to be exclusive, then the developments in the world around us must sig-nal that we are going in the wrong direction. If our lack of respect for our environment cries out to heaven and to us in its misery, if our land is no longer fertile, our water is befouled, and our air is poisoned--if we really see and recognize this, we must know that we are going in the wrong direction. Review for Religious If our neglect of the poor and downtrodden causes our edu-cation and healthcare systems to fail, and if our competitive cul-tures make the lives of many people miserable, then all of that neglect and competition must be the wrong direction. If the signs tell me that life the way we have thus far organized it is not work-ing, that nothing succeeds, that my actions effect disaster for oth-ers, I am obviously moving in the wrong direction. After recognizing all of this, what do we do? We must make choices in response to these signs. We can choose to be "the tired ones" who give up to let someone else lead the renewal. We can choose to be "the selfish ones" who create only our own security and pleasure. Or we can choose to be "the hopeful ones" who will look for new possibilities for ourselves and for the world. I want us to be the ones who choose to be hopeful. I think we must con-tinue to believe that human beings hold the potential to create a world that works for all peoples. Our Vows as a Response I think that as vowed religious we might bring new dimen-sions to the thinking about solutions to world problems and could radically affect outcomes--not by seeing ourselves as an elite group distanced from our neighbors by some holy and private choices, by mysterious vows of poverty, celibacy, and obedience, but rather by remembering--and letting ourselves be reignited by--the zeal with which I think we all made our first vows. I mean the per-sonal hope that we would change the world for the better, that we ourselves would bring with us the presence of Christ, that by sharing our love, faith, and hope we would make Christ visible and bring all the world to oneness in God. What happened to that most wonderful zeal and enthusiasm? I think that we religious need to ponder deeply the meaning of our vows and the witness our lives can give, must give, in con-trast to various trends and news events. I think of instances of environmental pollution, of trials for war crimes, of the terroriz-ing of ethnic and religious groups, and of the mother of a young child who could kill another woman's little girl. We seek to be effective in demonstrating hope and bringing it into our world. In a world where millions (including helpless children) suf-fer from the lack of such essentials as food, clothing, shelter, medicine, and education; in a world where people use their wealth November-December 2000 Soete ¯ A Vowed Response to produce more wealth so that they can live in a style that uses up the goods of the earth; in a world where people want more and more and give less and less to the laborers who produce the goods; in a world full of people who throw away and waste without even a thought--in such a world I have promised, we have promised, to use only what we need and to share everything we have. Are we keeping that promise? Would anyone who looks at us, our lifestyles, or our closets notice our choiceto do with less and our willingness to share? Would they be edified, stand in awe of the way that we are keeping our promise? In a world where groups of human beings look upon other groups as lower and with great intolerance seek to get rid of them; in a world where "ethnic cleansing," ways of death, become a way of life for some; in a world where nationalism means that free-dom to be intolerant of the differences of other races or peoples-- in such a world I have promised, we have promised, to love inclusively and to take on Jesus' own reverence and concern for all people, excluding no one. Are we keeping that promise? Would anyone who looks at us, at our way of being with the people with whom we live, at our way of being with the people at our place of ministry, notice our love, tolerance, and respect? Would they be edified and stand in awe of the way we are keeping our promise? In a world where the strong and influential make decisions for the weak; in a world where whole groups of people are not consulted about matters that affect vital areas of their lives; in a world where people are murdered because they disagree--in such a world I have promised, we have promised, to search for God's will and the right direction through dialogue and conversation, con-sultation and collaboration with all concerned. Are we keeping that promise? Would anyone who watches how we lead or partic-ipate in groups of students or teachers or coworkers notice our collaborative style or the way we listen to every person? Wotild they be edified and stand in awe of the way we are keeping our promise? What Then? I have spoken about our vows, emphasizing them as three promises because the term "vows" can sometimes be spiritualized and focused only on our commitment to God. In thinking about them as promises, I had a sense of a great possibility. I began to see Review for Religious that what we promise is more like a radical way that all human beings need to choose if we are to create a world where all people can live with dignity. I Wonder what might happen if we shared these choices of ours more openly among ourselves and witnessed to them more radically with our associates and with our partners in ministry. I am not so sure of our next step. I am not so sure how this small core of friends and others like us might have a good impact on our society and our world. But I think that somehow we can--and I challenge ourselves and others to come alive with that potential. "Striving for Unity" is our charism. We are supposed to be masters of it by now. Why, in our Japan Region alone, if we add up all of our years of religious life, we have more than three thousand years of our SSND lifestyle! I hope that we and others may gather together everyone's good insights and with them create for ourselves an exciting and real-istic dream as we step forward with God into this third millennium. Many of us will probably not be around when the next era gets its name, but--just as we prefer the word "butterfly" to "postcaterpillar" when thinking of the little creature's potential--would we not want the concepts of oneness, tolerance, collaboration, acceptance, and respect to be part of the name given to the next era? Are there initiatives for us to take, or can we at least support and encourage the wonderful people around us who are already dedicating their lives to this conversion and transformation of the earth? Is this not what we want to use our energy and ingenuity for? Is this not a way that we could use our positions as educa-tors and as ministers? Is this not worth the offering of the rest of our lives? We have promised to use only what we need. Are we keeping that promise? November-Decen~ber 2000 LAWRENCE F. BARMANN Mary Ward: Centuries Her Scroll examples from the past Today, amid questions about effective evangelization in the 21st century, about leadership and ~uthority in the Catholic Church, and about women's fuller participa-tion in these efforts and echelons, there is much that can and should be learned from Mary Ward at long last. During her lifetime four hundred years ago, she experi-enced much suffering and failure, but her full contribu-tion to the church and the world seems now to be only beginning. For religious in the United States and else-where who may know little or nothing of this extraor-dinary woman, I hope this article may provide a brief but warm introduction. The recent book I will be draw-ing from and citing is an excellent place to make fur-ther acquaintance with her goodness and truth. I refer to Mary Ward: Pilgrim and Mystic by Margaret Mary Littlehales IBVM) Mary Ward was an English gentlewoman, well-con-nected by birth, and related to many of those who were executed for their part in the ill-conceived Gun Powder Plot of 1605. She was born in Yorkshire in 1585, three years before the defeat of the Spanish Armada and four- Lawrence E Barmann is a professor of American studies and theological studies at Saint Louis Univ, ersity. His address is Humanities Building; 3800 Lindell Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63108. Review for Religious teen years after Pope Pius V's bull Regnans in excelsis made techni-cal traitors out of all English Catholics who claimed allegiance to the pope by inviting them to dethrone Queen Elizabeth. So mar-tyrdom for the faith, or at least willingly accepted hardship for the ability to practice it, became the very atmosphere in which Mary Ward grew to adulthood. Such an atmosphere is often inducive to quick spiritual maturity, and in Mary Ward's case it certainly was. By the time she was sixteen, Mary Ward had developed a strong prayer life and the conviction that God intended her for the religious state in some form. Her parents thought otherwise, and Edmund Neville, heir to the earldom of Westmoreland, became her suitor. After Mary had gently rejected him, Neville became a Jesuit; and at twenty-one she persuaded her father to allow her to go to the continent to try her vocation to religious life. In 1606 Mary arrived at SaintoOmer in the Spanish Netherlands (now northern France), where English Catholics escaping persecution in their homeland had been migrating for decades. Through the advice of misguided confessors, she entered a Poor Clare convent, only to realize within a year that this was not where God intended her to be. In 1609 she returned briefly to England, where she seems to have gained some light about God's choice for her. Upon returning to Saint-Omer with a small group of English women about her own age, she set about doing for women's education what the Jesuits were doing for boys among the emigr~s. She called her community the Institute of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and her specific intention was "to train English girls from Catholic families to be wives and mothers or religious, but all to be apostles for the faith in England." She was convinced that women were quite as capable of edu-cation as men, though she thought they did not need precisely the same courses. For Greek and Hebrew she substituted modern lan-guages, and for physical training, dancing. Moreover, she set about having her own followers trained to teach such things. In the patri-archal world and church of the 17th century, this was considered wildly innovative and thus suspect; and so the church authorities, who alone could approve her work as a religious institute, were to make Mary pay dearly for such innovation. Once, in 1617, after hearing a Jesuit priest comment on the work of her schools that, "when all is done, they are but women," Mary remarked calmly but with conviction: "There is no such dif- November-Decen~ber 2000 Barmann ¯ Mary Ward ference between men and women that women may not do great things . And I hope in time to come it will be seen that women will do much . What think you of this word 'but women'? but as if we were in all things inferior to some other creature which I suppose to be man." Mary Ward's convictions about this and much else were drawn not primarily from books and debates, but from her intense relationship with God and from his grace working through her wonderfully balanced and prophetic personality. As the schools grew and young women increasingly wished to join Mary Ward's community, she needed to settle on some rule of life. By 1611 already about forty women had cast their lots with hers. Both the local bishop and her confessor tried to force her to adopt either the Augustinian, Benedictine, Franciscan, or Carmelite rules. To these urgings she could only respond that "they seemed not that which God would have." These "English Ladies," as they were now commonly called by their supporters (or "Jesuitesses," by their detractors), could not have adopted any of those earlier rules for women and continue to do the work to which they were called; all four rules as they were applied to women in those days required canonical enclosure. Finally Mary Ward had her answer, and it was to lead to incredible suffering for the remainder of her life. To the papal nuncio in Cologne, Monsignor Albergati, she explained: About this time, in the year 1611, being alone in some extraordinary repose of mind, I heard distinctly not by sound of voice, but intellectually understood, these words: "Take the same of the Society"; so understood as that we were to take the same both in matter and manner, that only excepted which God by diversity of sex hath prohibited. These few words gave so great a light in that particular institute, comfort and strength, and changed so the whole soul as that it was impos-sible for me to doubt, but that they came from Him whose words are works. Mary Ward's conviction that God intended her to adopt the Jesuit Rule to her institute of religious women and to do her spe-cial work in the world rather than in a cloister was what 17th-cen-tury western Europe obviously needed if it were to remain at all Catholic. But it was a conviction far in advance of the convictions of most of the male authorities in post-Reformation Rome. Furthermore, the Jesuits had managed to incur the jealous wrath of the secular clergy in England, and these latter pursued Mary with calumnious accusations simply because she intended to estab-lish a female religious congregation based on Jesuit principles. Review for Religious These calumnies found a ready hearing in Rome. The Jesuits them-selves were ambivalent about her institute, sometimes being extremely helpful and sometimes joining the enemy. In 1622 Mary Ward finally met the Jesuit general, Mutius Vitelleschi, who was deeply and permanently impressed by her. Henceforth the Jesuit general would instruct his men to be supportive of Mary's work and gracious to her, short of such involvement as might lead to a sort of second order--something St. Ignatius Loyola had strictly for-bidden. Meanwhile Mary's institute had established schools not only in Saint-Omer, but in Liege and Rome, and would soon have houses in Naples, Perugia, Munich, Vienna, Pressburg, and elsewhere. Mary herself, always of delicate physical constitution, went back and forth across the Alps, mostly on foot, frequently in winter and in the midst of the Thirty Years War, in order to strengthen and encourage her followers; while at the same time she worked tirelessly to gain the necessary support of bishops, the Roman curia, and the pope, for the approval of her institute. The number of high-placed clerics who opposed her for reasons that had nothing to do with reli-gion, or even good sense, always outnumbered those who sup-ported her. The bishop of Vienna, for instance, wrote to Rome in 1628 to complain that the English Ladies had opened a school there without his peymission (though they had the emperor's per-mission and he had even given them a house and funds) and that the girls in Mary Ward's school had actually performed publicly in a comic school play! With the Catholic religion collapsing in central Europe, a bishop's jealousy of his rights against the only Catholic ruler of any weight in the region would ultimately prevent the Catholic education of young women in the empire. Of popes with whom Mary had to deal, Urban VIII, who would condemn Galileo at Mary Ward's conviction that God intended her to adopt the Jesuit Rule to her institute of religious women was what 17th-century western Europe obviously needed if it were to remain Catholic. November-December 2000 Barmann ¯ Mar~ Ward about the same time that he condemned Mary Ward, was the most duplicitous. She first had an audience with Urban in 1624, in which she pleaded for approval of her institute and in which Urban smiled and smiled and totally misled her about his intentions. Eventually he ordered the suppression of all of her houses and the dissolution of her institute, and this merely on the basis of English clerical calumnies and calumnies spawned by the hurt pride of ambitious continental clerics. Mary herself was eventually imprisoned as a heretic in a Poor Clare convent in Munich, by order of the Roman Inquisition. There she nearly died, though she so impressed the resident Poor Clares that they knew she was anything but a heretic. Meanwhile, her followers were being systematically driven from their houses and were mostly on the verge of starvation. Having at length been released from prison, Mary set out at the end of 1631 for Rome in order to clear her good name for the sake of what she hoped might be the future of her institute. Kneeling at Urban's feet she burst out, "Holy Father, I am not nor ever have been a heretic." At which the pope interrupted, "We believe it, we believe it; we need no other proof." He also allowed the institute to continue (under private vows) in Rome and under his protection. In 1637 Mary Ward set out again for England, though it would be May of 1639 before she actually got there. She sought a letter from Pope Urban to give to Queen Henrietta Maria to gain the queen's support for her institute. The letter Mary received speaks of her as "one much esteemed in Rome both for her well-known qualities and piety, which will without doubt cause Your Majesty to see and hear her." This was the same Rome which, only half a dozen years earlier, had imprisoned her as a heretic and decreed the destruction of her life's work. The queen did receive Mary gra-ciously, but within a year the country would be in the throes of political ttirmoil that would end in civil war and the execution of the king. Without completely abandoning her hope of establishing a school in London, Mary went north to Yorkshire in 1642, and there she died at Osbaldwick, a short distance from the city of York, on 20 January (old style) 1645. After her death Mary Ward's institute did in fact flourish, and finally, in 1977, after a wait of 366 years, the Institute of the Blessed Virgin Mary was able to realize Mary Ward's original insight and founder's charism by adopting the Jesuit Constitutions, and with the blessing of the Jesuit general, Pedro Arrupe. Margaret Mary Review for Religious Littlehales's study of Mary's Ward's life reveals many things. It reveals the costliness, but also the great happiness, of completely abandoning oneself to God. It also demonstrates that, within the external church structure, official authority can be quite wrong, but probably less so in proportion to the genuine humility of its wielders. Mary Ward's life demonstrates incontrovertibly that God's intended purposes are often achieved through the near annihilation of the human instruments of that achievement. Christians should not be surprised by this, for such was the case with God's own Son. Contemporary religious, both men and women, can find great encouragement and inspiration in the life of this saintly English woman. Dorothy Day did, and she even titled her own autobiog-raphy with a remark Mary Ward once made as she pondered what lay ahead of her as a young woman bent on seeking only God's will--"the long loneliness." Note 1 Margaret Mary Littlehales, Mary Ward, Pilgrim and Mystic, 1~8Y- 164~ (Tunbridge Wells, England: Burns and Oates, 1998). Pp. 272. £18.95. Patrimony my patrimony is a deity unknown whose name I cannot pronounce communicated to me in stuttering speech, in fits of temper and in weeping, in so many questions unleavened by answers in silence and in absence by those struck dumb and those afraid to speak Sefin Kinsella November-December 2000 STAN PARMISANO St. Catherine's Letters: Human Love, Gracious Authority One level of St. Catherine of Siena, perhaps her deepest, is revealed in her Dialogue.' But this great work, whether in the original or in proper translation, is strange fare for many mod-ern readers. Its subject matter--mystical union with the Trinity in and through Christ--is high and heavy and, I should think, attractive only to the relatively few seriously intent upon such union. Its language often includes words and phrases borrowed from the scholastic theology of the day, though Catherine's orig-inal genius keeps breaking through, giving new form to old mat-ter. The book is also rife with personification and allegory (Christ the Bridge, the Tree of Life, Vineyard of the Soul, and so forth)-- fun for the medieval reader, but dry and tedious for today's read-ership. Also, in the Dialogue Catherine is quite formal and impersonal. The lively, dynamic personality recorded in history is certainly there, but it has to be searched out, for it is hidden in the shadow of the great Truth she labors to expound. She herself is merely un'anirna in the mighty presence of her God. Her letters are a different matter.2 They are personal--writ-ten not by an anonymous "soul," but by the flesh-and-blood Catherine. Io Caterina rings throughout, addressed not to people in general, but to here-and-now individuals. The letters evoke wide and popular interest. They deal with Catherine's own life Stan Parmisano OP wrote about theology and faith in our September- October issue. His address remains Saint Albert's Priory; 5890 Birch Court; Oakland, California 94618. Revie'a, for Religiou, and visible experiences and with details about life around her, social and political as well as spiritual. Their language is not borrowed from or freighted with outmoded rhetorical devices, but is pleas-ingly spontaneous and informal, as alive today as in Catherine's own time. On the whole the letters are original. They are Catherine, in every vibrant word and phrase--simple, nuanced, various, alive with passion for the truth, and the truth in particu-lar situations. They are "unliterary," to be sure, for they were talked, not written, by our unlettered saint, but they are clear and coherent, direct and firm, though also tactful. Catherine sometimes digresses, loses the train of her thought, but she never really rambles on or gossips. She has little time for light conversation ("Let us run, let us run, for the time is short!"), and her central point is almost always clear and precise. Though each of her letters is unique, many of them fall into a common pattern. They begin with Jesus, and with Catherine as the slave of the servants of God--never, for Catherine, a mere pious formula, but always freshly genuine. Then she often seems to lose herself in the contemplation and exposition of one of the mysteries of faith, which, however, turns out to be pertinent to the subject of the letter. Soon she comes to the question at issue, and, if in the initial paragraphs she was high and spiritual, peacefully contemplative, now she is very much the active apostle dealing practically and in detail with earthy mat-ters. She ends with statements of love and concern for her corre-spondent, placing all in the hands of God: "Bathe you in the blood of Christ crucified. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love." The letters reveal the breadth as well as depth of Catherine's concerns, and her marvelous ability to adapt, with no compromise of ideal, to various situations and personalities. To a little niece she writes in gentle, childlike simplicity about the wise and foolish virgins in the Gospel and the lamps they bear: "Do you know what this means, my daughter? By the lamp is meant our heart, because a heart ought to be like a lamp. You see that a lamp is wide above and narrow below, and so the heart is made to signify that we ought always to keep it wide above through holy thoughts and holy imaginations and continual prayer; always holding in mem-ory the blessing of the Blood by which we are bought . I said . simple, nuanced, various, alive with passion for the truth, and the truth in particular situations. November-December 2000 Parmisano ¯ St. Catherine's Letters that a lamp is narrow below, and so is our heart: to signify that the heart ought to be narrow toward these earthly things--that is, it must not desire or love them extravagantly, nor hunger for more than God wills to give us" (letter no. 23). To Alessa, as to other of her women disciples, she sends prac-tical advice about the religious life, which is to be lived "both with and without moderation . For love toward God should be with-out measure, and that for creatures should be measured by that for God, and not by measure of one's own consolations, whether spiritual or temporal." And how manage this? "Make two homes for yourself, my daughter: one actual home in your cell, that you go not running about into many places, unless for necessity, or for obe-dience to the prioress, or for charity's sake; and another spiritual home, which you are to carry with you always." This last, she con-tinues, is "the cell of true self-knowledge," embracing both the knowledge of God and the knowledge of self, "two cells in one. ¯ and when abiding in the one you must abide in the other, for oth-erwise the soul would fall into either confusion or presumption. For, if you rested in the knowledge of yourself, confusion of mind would fall upon you; and, if you dwelt in the knowledge of God alone, you would fall into presumption" (no. 49). Still within the uncompromising truth and love of Jesus, but with some relevant adaptation, she writes in a much different vein to Sir John Hawkwood, the English soldier of fortune who was the scourge of the Italian city-states. She begs him to leave "the service and pay of the devil., and take the pay and the cross of Christ crucified." He is a soldier; let him remain such, but let him now become Christ's knight: "I beg you, then, gently in Christ Jesus, that, since God and also our Holy Father have ordered a crusade against the infidels and [since] you take such pleasure in war and fighting, you should not make war against Christians any-more-- for that is wrong to God; but go against the infidels. For it is a great cruelty that we who are Christians, and members bound in the body of Holy Church, should persecute one another." And she concludes abruptly but quite aptly with a subtle undertone of warning against his soldiering altogether: "I beg you, dearest brother, to keep in memory the shortness of your time." Her final words are as usual: "Remain in the holy and sweet grace of God. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love" (140). To that formidable woman of the world Queen Joanna of Naples, who first sided with Clement, then Urban, then with Review for Religious Clement again in their rival claims on the papacy, Catherine writes in a similar manner, but with deeper sorrow and fiercer passion: "Dearest Mother--mother, I say, insofar as I see you to be a faith-ful daughter of Holy Church--it seems to me that you have no mercy on yourself. Ah me! because I love you I grieve over the evil state of your soul and body. I would willingly lay down my life to prevent this cruelty. Many times I have written to you in compassion, showing you that what is shown you for the truth is a lie; and the rod of divine justice., is ready for you if you do not flee so great a wrong. It is a human thing to sin, but perseverance in sin is a thing of the devil . Be merciful, ah, be merciful to yourself]. I say no more to you. Remain in the holy sweet grace of God. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love" (348). She writes differently to Gregory xI than at a later date she would write to Urban vI. Gregory was weak and vacillating, and so in her letters to hi~n she exhorts him to be "manly" and firm in his high office of supreme pontiff: "Be manly in my sight, and not timorous . I, Catherine. write you in his precious Blood, desiring to see you a manly man (uomo virile) without any servile fear." And, when Gregory hesitates in his resolve to return to Rome for fear of being poisoned there, Catherine reminds him that there are other, more terrible kinds of poison; and at any rate there's as much poison "on the tables of Avignon . as on those of Rome!" (229, 239). Urban, on the other hand, from the start of his pontificate was already betraying that spirit of anger and vindictiveness that would end in personal revenge, violence, and mt~rder. One had written to Catherine after the election of Urban: "It seems that our new Christ is a terrible man." In her first letter to him, Catherine appears to be aware of this and shapes her words accordingly: "Next I beg you, and constrain you by the love of Christ crucified, as to those sheep who have left the fold--I believe for my sins-- that, by love of that Blood of which you are made minister, you delay not to receive them in mercy, and with your benignity and holiness force their hardness; give them the good of bringing them back to the fold, and, if they do not ask it in true and perfect humility, let Your Holiness supply for their imperfection. Receive from a sick man what he can give you" (291). Religious life is to be lived "both with and without moderation." November-December 2000 Parmisano * "St. Catherine's Letters She writes to William Flete and other hermits at Laceto a gem of a letter begging them to leave for a time the peace and quiet of their forest retreat and come to Rome on pilgrimage in support of Urban. She desires them so to lose themselves as to seek "nor peace nor quiet elsewhere than in Christ crucified." If out of piety they are loath to leave their solitary life, they must know that there are woods and forests aplenty in and around Rome! (326). To Raymond of Capua, her Dominican soul brother and dearest friend, she writes in every which way: tenderly, pas-sionately, in joy, in anger; now as a scolding mother, now as his obedient daughter, now reproving him for cowardice and want of faith, now exposing her own weakness and want of love. And, often uncomfortably for Raymond, always she wants him together with herself to die a martyr: "I tell you, sweetest Father, that, whether we will or no, the time we are living in enjoins us to die, so do not live any longer." (333). Catherine's Human Love This last suggests one of two facets of Catherine's personality that may prove especially problematic for the modern reader of her letters, namely, the quality of her human love. The spontane-ity, passion, naturalness, and totality of her love for the Person of Christ is beyond question: she is quite literally consumed, body and soul, with love for Him, who is mad (pazzo), drunk (ebro) with love for her. But, when it comes to lesser*folk, her native inclina-tions seem to be oversupernaturalized, and her love may appear forced and lacking in the milk of human tenderness and warmth and understanding. This would explain the extreme discomfort she experiences when ordered by the Lord to leave her solitary life and give to others the same love that she gave to

Issue 41.1 of the Review for Religious, January/February 1982. ; 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. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1982 by REVIEW FOR REI.~G~OOS. 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: $10.00 a year; $19.00 for two years. For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVIEW FOR REt,IGIOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55802. 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 Jan./ Feb., 1982 Volume 41 Number 1 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW I"OR RE~.IGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's University; City Avenue at 541h St.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Back issues and reprints shoul.d be ordered from Rt:v,Ew Vo8 RE~oIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindetl Blvd.; St. L~uis, 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. Review for Religious Volume 41, 1982 Editorial Offices 3601 Lindell Boulevard, Room 428 Saint Louis, Missouri 63108 Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Daniel T. Costello, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Miss Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Book Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is published in January, March, May, July, Sep-tember, and November on the fifteenth of the month. It is indexed in the Catholic Periodical and Literature Index and in Book Review Index. A microfilm edition of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is available from University Microfilms International; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Copyright © 1982 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. The Art of Wasting Time: Thoughts on the Expropriation of Leisure James W. Heisig Father Heisig, of the Society of the Divine Word, is a Permanent Fellow of the Nanzan Institute for Religion and Culture, General editor of its book series on East-West thought and Associate Professor of Humanities at the Nan:an University. His address: Nan:an Institute for Religion and Culture: 18, Yamazato-cho. Showa-ku: Nagoya, Japan'. In modern industrialized nations, time is thought of as an investment commodity with a fluid market value. The power of time to cure all ills that the ancient Greek proverb celebrated has been drained from it to reduce time to disposable mer-chandise within our control. Some people's time is now worth more than other people's time because they know how to use time .profitably, that is, to achieve maximum production with minimum consumption. The ideal management of time is measured by cost-benefit analysis. As a consumer commodity, time is also unevenly distributed: some people now possess more time than others, which they are free to invest wisely or foolishly. It does not take much reflection to appreciate how the metaphor of "annual income,"the most Oniversal measure of the relative value of time, has crept its way into the modern imagination and laden words once rich in personal meanings with the double entendre of economic connotations. And that is as true in the world of business as it is in the world of religious or humanitarian devotion to an ideal. We hear it said that the fund~.mental shock occasioned by the increased pace of modei'n living is that shorter and shorter periods of time enable us to achieve the same things that former civilizations took much longer to achieve, which in turn produces the need for constant novelty. In fact, we do notachieve the same things at all. By submitting time and human needs to new s.tandards, the quality of life 3 4 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 itself has been altered and important spiritual values siphoned off as waste. The trip across the Sinai that took the ancient Israelites forty years to complete would hardly take forty minu~tes today from t~ikeoff to landing. But whereas their voyage was a.journey that transformed a band of refugees into a people of God, ours is reduced to a mere change of location that takes place too quickly to effect any but the most superficial of insights. For us, time wasted in travel, in the use of outmoded tools, and in the inefficient use of resources and personnel is money flushed down the drain. On the one hand, time well spent promises the reward of time to spare; but on the other, the time that we have saved is only of value if it, too, is well spent. The result is that leisure has become a luxury item, with less to be found among workers today than there was among the slaves of ancient Greece and Rome. In such circUmstances, it has become easy to market time-measuring devices for popular use that approximate the precision of scientific equipment. A wrist-watch that takes time to wind and has to be reset once a week is an anachronism to the modern mind. The practical advantages of such accuracy are fictitious, but the ideological advantage is very real. We are so firmly locked into the modern myth of time that the thought of unclocking oneself, even for the purposes of relaxation, has become the moral equivalent of undressing in public. The idea of time that has colonized the habits of thought that gird the institu-tions of modem society--school, church, business, entertainment, travel, health care, politics, social action--has wrought a spiritual impoverishment on our native sensibilities. The reverence for free time Freizeit and leave from labor (leisure) has not disappeared, but its motivations have shifted. The important wisdom that time belongs among the "best thing~ of life" that cannot be bought and sold, that belong to all of us as our common human right, and that are their own reward, is in peril. The expropriation of leisure by the consumer ethos is one of the most harmful ideas that pollute modern consciousness and obstruct the construction of an equitable and sustainable global community. Instead of having time for oneself, time for the earth, and time for the human race, we have become content with having time to consume the goods and services manufactured in other sectors of society. We have come to think of time as a nonrenewable resource, and lost the art of wasting it lavishly for our spiritual well-being. Deliverance from this state of affairs begins with learning to make transparent the myth of time that we inhabit unawares. And onestep in that direction, it seems to me, is to have a look at some of the things we no longer seem to have much time for. Time for Oneself The story is told of a certain clergyman who went to see the famous psycholo-gist, C. G. Jung, complaining of an impending nervous breakdown. His story was a familiar one. Working fourteen hours a day to fill up his life of service with meaning, he found only a spiritual tiollowness to his work. The harder he worked, the more tasks he took on, the more his nerves stood on end, threatening at any moment to shatter through the fragile mask of the busy pastor and expose his The Art of Wasting Time hypocrisy. 3ung's advice was simplicity itself; he was to work a mere eight-hour day, go home and spent his evenings quietly in his study alone. Unconvinced of the wisdom of .lung's counsel, but sufficiently agonized to have no other recourse, the man made up his mind to follow the prescription to the letter. He worked his eight hours, returned to the parish house for supper, then retired behind the closed doors of his study for the rest of the evening. Some time later he returned to see .lung, reporting that, alas, the remedy had been a complete failure. Spiritually he was worse off than before, and the parish had fallen into disarray for want of attention. He had done everything just as he had been told, but to no avail. "What did you do in your study?" Jung asked. "Well, let's see, the first night I finished a Herman Hesse novel and listened to some Chopin l~tu~les. After that I read some Thomas Mann and listened to a Mozart sonata. Next I . . ." "But you didn't understand," .lung broke in. "I didn't want you to spend your time reading novels and listening to music. I wanted you to be alone with yourself.""Oh, but 1 couldn't stand it. i make such bad company," the pastor replied. "Aha! Now we see the problem," said .lung. "That very self that you can't stand for even a short period is the same self you have been inflicting on others for fourteen hours a day.~ The pastor's problem and the way he set out trying to cure it both belong to a level of cultural development that can only be called elite. The freedom to opt for a fourteen:l~our work day and drive oneself to psychological tatters, and then to reduce one's time of labor by 40% for the sake of spiritual hygiene; the possibility of consulting a professional therapist and paying for the service; the ability to read classic literature and appreciate classical music--all of these things belong to a style of life unthinkable to the great masses of humanity, who do not work for ends supererogatory to survival that can be dispensed with when body or soul collapses, but work to keep alive, and great numbers of them successfully. I do not mean to imply that the man's problem was not a real one, or that it should be classified, along with cosmetic surgery and Caribbean cruises, as needs bred of boredom or surfeit. I mean only that, like all spiritual problems, its roots reach over into problematic social structures as well, whose repair requires more attention to one's own soul. Of this, more shall be said later. What 'lung showed the pastor about himself, and what many of those who share his general cultural field can readily identify with, is that people will often go to extraordinary lengths to avoid having to look at themselves without a role to play. The crises of meaninglessness.that had attacked his work spread over into his leisure because of a common fundamental bias that value can only be generated by keeping busy at a socially acceptable task. In each case, he fled what he feared would do him more harm than anything else: his deep dislike of himself. In his work, the pretense of altruism threw up a thick smoke screen, almost as if deliber-ately to cloud the problem; and in his leisure the pretense of polishing up his education protected and reinforced the hollow ideals he could never quite recog-nize as his own. "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." Before one embraces those words as a commanded task, they need first to be accepted as a statement of fact: like it or not, one cannot love another if one does not first love oneself. And 6 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 there is no way to love oneself if one does everything possible to avoid spending time with oneself. The pastor's abuse of leisure meant that leisure was not a freeing time but an enslaving time. Instead of serving as a re-creational balance to the creativity of his work, it bound him more firmly to the estrangement he felt between his own innermost beliefs and his outward devotedness. The proper use of leisure, on the other hand, demands the capacity to turn solitariness into solitude, not to dread it as a mere isolation from things that have value. If there are human values that daily life and work sterilize conscience against, and if those values are truly the eradicable imprint of the divine on the soul of each individual, then the deliverance of the human from the inhumanity of which it is capable begins with a transforma-tion in perspective metanoia towards oneself. And that takes time, leisure time. To be denied that time to waste on oneself, or to deny it to oneself, is to forsake redemption from the common habits of evil that we all participate in unawares. Time for the Earth A second dimension on which our~modern myth of time has expropriated the functions of leisure is that of our relationship to nature. In order to get to the core of this problem, 1 should like to cite a story from the Inner Chapters bf Chuang- Tzu, the Chinese mystic and Taoist philosopher of the fourth century before the Christian era. It is a story about a certain master carpenter named Stone and his apprentice, and how they happened one day to encounter the truth about worth-less trees. It seems that on one of their voyages the two chanced to pass by a gigantic oak tree standing by a local village shrine. The young apprentice stopped short and stood aghast with awe at the towering majesty of the tree, whose trunk he thought must measure a hundred spans in girth, and whose branches were so immense that at least ten of them he reckoned could surely be carved into boats. But the master Stone just stalked off ahead without so much as giving the tree a second glance. Catching him up, the apprentice inquired of him why a carpenter should pass up such timber, more splendid than any he had seen since taking up his axe. "Stop!" the master rebuked him. "The tree is useless. A boat made from it would sink, a coffin would soon rot, a tool would split, a door would ooze sap, and a beam would have termites. It is worthless timber and is of no use. That is why it has reached such a ripe old age." That night the oak,tree appeared to the carpenter Stone in a dream and complained of being compared with useful trees that are stripped and pruned and robbed of their fruits or cut down in their prime because they attract the attentions of the common world. "As for me, I have been trying for a long time to be useless. I was almost destroyed several times, Finally I am useless, and this is very useful to me. if I had been useful, could 1 have.ever grown so large? Besides, you and I are both things. How can one thing judge another thing? What does a dying and worthless man like you know about a worthless tree?" The next day, when the °The Art of Wasting Time apprentice heard of the dream, he was puzzled. "If it had so great a desire to be useless, why does it serve as a shrine?" This time the master took up. the cause of the tree. "It is just pretending to be one so that it will not be hurt by those who do not know that it is useless. If it had not been a sacred tree, it would probably have been cut down. It protects itself in a different way from ordinary things. We will miss the point if we judge it in the ordinary way." Let us say the carpenter Stone, with his "ordinary way" of looking at things, is a type of technological men and women whose tools have so eclipsed their direct contact with nature that they can no longer revere the world except as something "useful" for their equipment. As the tree reminds the carpenter in his dream, however, there are values that go beyond the useful, beyond the values that civilizations assign to things when they judge them to be worth our "while." These values reach deep beneath the differences that separate the human from the rest of the earth, to the point of geocentric unity that was broken with the anthropocent-ric revolt against being merely a thing among other things. They reach beyond the divisions of means and ends into which people classify everything about them. Insight into such values begins with learning t9 listen to the earth, something whose importance we are only now rediscovering after a century of industrial progress. Even so, we have the greatest of difficulty in unplugging ourselves from the apparatus we have built to mediate our way to nature. The world is still viewed by and large as raw material for human civilization. We struggle to keep our environment free of pollution because we fear the spread of disease among people and the poisoning of our food. We lobby against the mindless pillage of forests because we fear the effects of soil erosion on our buildings and landscaping. We protect the wilderness because we need somewhere to "get away from it all." These are reasons that make sense to a civilized mind, but do not satisfy it quite yet. We still want more sense than that. Increasing numbers (especially those for whom there is no economic danger involved) are finding it therapeutic to sympathize with the plight of species endangered by hunting or the destruction of natural habitats. Others are relearning to use the tools that scientific advance had thought to render into museum pieces. Something like a spirituality of the earth is coming to birth, but its douleurs d'enfantement are spasmodic and uncomfortable in the extreme. Perhaps the major reason that the developed industrial nations of the world do not yet have time for the earth is that their livelihood depends on a world frag-mented according to its utility for tools, and on a work force of specialists who literally feed off of one or the other fragment. The kit of tools that provides us with our ordinary way of looking at the earth functions not only because it represents a considerable extension of the power of the human body--legs into automobiles, voices into radio waves, eyes into telescopes, arms into cranes, and so forth, in the great caricature that humanity has made of its own image--but also because it succeeds in devaluing any other way of looking at life and work. While this has made impressive leaps in scientific and technical progress possi-ble, it has also taken its toll on the human spirit in the form of a massive addiction I~ / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 to packaged, processed experiences of the earth. We seek respite from the drudgery of working at our own specialized task only to find ourselves consuming the product of someone else's specialization. The woman who sits from morning to night on an assembly line at a canning factory learns to put up with the boredom and servility of her labor by concentrating on the privileges it will give her through the money she earns. Come vacation time, she happily skips into a great steel can sealed in Los Angeles and opened in Hawaii, clutching her five-nights-six-days-cut- rate-holiday plan around which she has organized her hopesof regaining some of the dignity she had to forfeit in order to afford the trip in the first place. She may well spend her whole life without noticing 'that she is being sold on the earth in entertainment-packages by an industry that depends on people not being able to experience the beauties and pleasures of nature without their help. Such contact with nature, far from helping one to recover the basic human demand for creativity and meaning in work, only reinforces the same feelings of impotence, ignorance, and strangeness in the face of the complex machinery and bureaucracy that has come between people and the earth. From the point of view of those who have forgotten that demand, such time may be considered very well spent, very useful, and very recreational. But it is not the freeing time of leisure because it does not so much as waste a moment on trying to step outside the ordinary way of looking at the earth, to see nature once again from the inside as it were, as something valuable in itself. Time for the Human Race In addition to the estrangement from oneself and estrangement from the earth, there is a third dimension on which our myth of time has expropriated the dower of wasted time, namely estrangement from our own race. We who compose essays on electric typewriters and subscribe to journals on the spiritual life tend to forget that the technology we take for granted is still experienced as an oppression by the vast majority of human beings. Consciously it is felt as the oppression of neglect at the hands of those who dwell in the economic penthouses of the global commun-ity. Unconsciously it is felt as the oppression of envy for the equipment and the life style of affluence and the accompanying disgust with their own primitive enjoy-ments. For all the commonsense wisdom contained in the counsel that money cannot buy happiness, and that more often than not it only multiplies the possibili-ties for unhappiness, both the rich of the earth and the poor are agreed that it is a misery they would prefer risking. The consumer ethos that pervades and sustains a high level of technology at the top of the human pyramid also pervades and sustains the grotesque want under which most of our kind are forced to live. - By far the greatest part of the human community has no opportunity for employing the technological tools that are now transforming the fac~ of the planet, and in many cases do not even know that they exist. Those who use jet transporta-tion are an absolute aristocracy; for every one of them there are several thousands who have never ridden a bicycle. The number of illiterates in the world still far The Art of Wasting 7~me / 9 outnumbers the number of those who even own radios; and the number of people who own television sets is far lower than the number of those whose annual income does not reach the cost of a television. The rest of humanity, for which individuals in the developed world have no time, have fallen into conditions made more difficult to escape by the surfeit that one small portion of the world enjoys. At the base of the human pyramid there are ~hundreds of millions living on the borderlands of vegetation and death, which in turn belongs to a group of nearly one billion people whom we have now come to speak of as the fourth world. Above them is the third world, over half of which lives in a poverty they have no hope of remedying, yet a poverty tortured by the knowledge that some of the race spend their lives struggling to acquire still greater surpluses of luxury, and to glut themselves with still more of the already maldis-tributed fruits of the earth. Those who are born and bred in life at the top of the pyramid have little practical feeling for the current inhumanity that is ravaging most of the race. They find it easier to imagine science-fictional futures than to imagine the present reality, let alone to image their own complicity in the way things are. They may watch documentaries about starvation in Africa or floods in Asia, but fail to make any connection when they book passage the next day for a tour in the Yucatfin. Or perhaps better, they have allowed their.questions to be silenced by the whole tangle of government and economic organizations that constantly complain of how com-plicated everything is. They may know that the budget of New York State, with its twelve million people, exceeds that of India with its six hundred million, and perhaps even permit themselves a sigh of pity; but they entrust the sorting out of injustices to the experts who have been trained to worry about such things. All the privileged of the earth know for sure is. that they have no objection to others sharing in their style of life, provided it does not make any demands on theirown appetities. Clearly, this is not enough. Within a generation we shall have six billion people on the earth, with five billion of them living in poverty. The tactic of indifference, which amounts to a war of the few against the many, kills and dehumanizes more effectively than any weapon we have yet dared to use. But it is running out of time. As the poor arm themselves with the surplus of our .stockpiles, sold off cheaply to make way for more advanced weaponry, we cannot suppose that they will forever remain content with waging war among themselves. The smaller and more concen-trated the centers of wealth become throughout the world, the more vulnerable they become to the masses of those who have been trained to be jealous of what others are free to consume. The urgency of the situation, however, is not of itself enough to guarantee the quality of any and every attempt to alleviate it. Just as time for the self and time for the earth tend to get absorbed without remainder into time for the consumption of luxuries advertised as refreshment from working time, so time for the human race all too readily gets twisted into the donation of services that perpetuate the spirit-ual impoverishment of the technological world by camouflaging it behind an 10 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 idiom of charity. Those who are touched with a sense of pity for the maldistribu-tion of wealth and feel the pressure to help, all too frequefitly lack the requisite insight into their own patterns of thought to realize how their aid can amount to the substitution of one form of dehumanization for another. In providing hospi-tals, schools, factories, and modern transport for the underprivileged (that is, for those denied the right to consume culture as we consume it), the donor organiza-tions narrow their responsibilities down tc~ the unilaterial sharing of goods and values. The possibility that alternate social systems, now' rendered obsolete, unproductive, and unsustainable by the current management of the world's resources, may have something to, teach the human community about liberation from the consumer ethos is pushed to one side in the rush to make amends for gluttony overcome with guilt in the face of deprivation. I1: the price of providing bread for the world is further investment in the current means of producing and distributing bread, then bread for the world there will never be. The economics of this are fairly intricate, but the direct ratio th~it obtains between the number of people who are starving to death and the increased number of organizations and agencies aimed at distributive justice is plain enough to see. A leisure that is freeing for the human race is not simply time given free of cost by the haves to the have-nots, but a time for withdrawal from the ruling myth of time. It must, in the first pla~e, be a waste of tilne altogether free of investments economic or ideological, time wasted on the whole of the race, ourselves included. Of all the forms of leisure, this is the one that has become most radically enslaved to the biases of working time, despite the way in which improved means of communication have enabled an altogether new image of the universal h~]man family. There may be no greater constriction of.the imagination in the history of human thought about world order than that of the present day face-off in devel-oped industrial nations between the philanthropic illusion of the rich nations of the world opening their storehouses to share with the poor on the one hand, and the financial illusion of increasing productivity to the point of being able to sell more goods more cheaply without monetary loss on the other. And this, too, is a mark of grave spiritual immaturity. The Reappropriation of Leisure If I have left a good deal in the previous pages to innuendo and only hints of an explanation of how leisure time has become victimized by the spread of consumer metaphors, it was not only to condense a manifold problem into a few words, but also to prepare for what 1 wish to propose by way of conclusion. Simply put, it comes to this: that only the personal awakening of increasing numbers of individ-uals to the considerable loss sustained by civilization in its forward march into technology can provide the footings for a modern spirituality, and that only the redemption of leisure time from its servility to current structures of thought can provide the conditions for such awakening. The reappropriation of the need for leisure--an unadvertised, unprofitable, and withal revolutionary need--begins with the individual or it does not begin at all. No one can stand l~roxy for another's The Art of Wasting Time spiritual conversion. No expertise can service a society with personal insight, judgment, and decision. For it is not so much concession to the logic of particular conclusions that is the point, but the recovery of the process of working one's own way out of familiar biases. This process hinges on the art of wasting time. In the first place, leisure time should nurture a spirit of resistance to the humors of resignation that poison the bloodstream of industrial society. It should increase one's resistance to the workaday bias that the submission and trust due divine providence, for having cast us into a world with hopes in our hearts too big for our abilities, should be extended into a submission and trust in social provi-dence, for having spun a web of institutions so tightly about us that we are powerless to do much more than lay a hand across our inquisitive mouths and adjust as best we can. From the point of view of the world of time where work gets done, free time that results in raising basic questions about that world is not only wasted time, it is counterproductive. No doubt a life in which leisure means nothing but filling up with comforts and entertainments the hollow gouged out of the soul by resignation to the complexities of modern life is an ideal few, if any, would Openly champion. But the fact is, the bare physical need for periodic reinvigoration always has a spiritual dimension to it as well, and in industrial society that spiritual dimension tends to vacillate between the reinforcement of patterns of passive consumption of relaxation and spare-time thoughts about better pay, shorter hours, or increased benefits. In either case, it remains subser-vient to the structures of work and effectively concedes defeat to their power. It lacks re-creativity. This is the idolatry, of epidemic proportions, that afflicts the spirituality of technological society. Second, in order to offer this sort of recreational resistance to the spirit of resignation, time wasted in leisure should be an abandon to the spirit of playful-ness. I use that word in a broader sense than either the games of children or the athletics of adults to cover not only the labor of alternative activities but also the enjoyments of repose; and in a narrower sense than sleep or intoxication on the one hand, moonlighting or profit-making hobbies on the other. The playfulness of leisure has three facets. The first of these is the imagination of possible futures in which we might be free of the oppressions of the present. If such futures are truly' possible, that is, if they are able to emerge out of the existing world by a rearrange-ment of its priorities, then their entertainment in imagination is capable of being sustained and deepened from one period of leisure to the next. This in contrast to the scattered daydreams of wishful thinking that come and go for all of us without effort or lasting impression. That is, such images can accumulate sufficient form in time to lead to the commitment to some preferable future from among the possi-bilities~ To experience such a reorganization of hope in playfulness is to experience the genesis of an ideal within oneself. Not to experience it is to keep leisure locked up in itself. And finally, there is the transition from the possible and the preferable to the enjoyment of the future in the present. This is where most people are best at wasting time, even though they may not know what they are doing. It consists in the construction of a temporary utopia about oneself where the things one values 12 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 most can be savored. It is a timefor tasting ideals of companionship without strife, pleasure without labor, crafmanship without pressure, play without punishment. The reigning fear among those who wish to protect their leisure time from being absorbed by spiritual or intellectual recollection is that too much reflection inhibits enjoyment. And to be sure, there are those whose twisted sense of asceticism drives them from one cause to the other, volunteering their services and neglecting the wisdom that comes from having a good, wasted time. At the other extreme, enjoyment cut off from reflection about the future altogether quickly shrivels up into a mere pampering of a self exhausted by labor, with the result that it becomes less and less enjoyable and more and more like the pure passivity of sleep. Some-where between the two lies the art of celebrating a world that is not but might be for a while, a world filled up with the spirit of playfulness. Third, leisure should help foster a spirit of survival in the midst of this by no means best of all possible worlds. Just as the struggle for physical survival requires ingenuity in using available resources and at the same time remaining alert to the opportunities for deliverance if and when they present themselves, so too with the struggle for spiritual survival. It requires anger against avoidable evils, sensitivity to appropriate solutions in which one's anger may be expressed, and the capacity to wait without exploding from within or being sapped of one's energies from without. One may have to buy chemically treated food because fresh produce has been priced beyond one's budget; one may have to drive an automobile to work because public transport systems have become an economic deficit to the com-munity; one may have to put up with menial labor because one's skills are not in demand; one may have to swallow large doses of injustice, stupidity, and callous-ness. But one does not have to pretend to like it or allow it to embitter enjoyment. Survival means wedding a resistance to resignation with a love of playfulness so as to forfeit neither the gusts nor the disgusts of life. Fourthly, leisure needs to infuse a spirit of the sacred into the time that we waste. When the ritual, beliefs, and holy writ of a religious tradition become fettered to the myth of consumer time, they forsake their sacredness. When they cease to cut like a. two-edged sword that denounces sinfulness and announces goodness, they dull and profane their capactiy of re-creation. At the same time, when they provide mere divertissement from the trials of working life or serve only as platforms for supporting the flood of causes that wash through the mass media with the regularity of spring and autumn fashions, they betray their meaning. Sacred time is not an investment measured in loss and profit to the current problems of a civilization. It is a necessity--the necessity to hallow the self, the earth, and the human race as a single great gift beyond all desert. It insures that, whatever of practical use may come out of time wasted in leisure, it is the wasting that is holiest. Sacred time unplugs us from our own time and opens up a horizon of all time, against which the greatest sin appears as the desire for absolute control and the greatest goodness as the grace of being absolutely loved. All of us, every soul of us on earth, breathe the myths of our civilization as inevitably as we breathe the air .that surrounds us. They are transparent, taken for The Art of Wasting l~me / 13 granted, but essential for human .life. Leisure time is like a flute that transforms.the silent secrets in the air into music. It shows us the harmonies and the cacophanies, the purity and the pollution of our myths. Without leisure, we have no way to know the air about us, no way to love back the One who made us the,mythmaking animals we are. View From Behind Tapestries look like battlefields from the back. Threads like soldiers in hand to hand combat-- who is most resilient? Arms locked, elbows out, clenched fists of knot scattered like small skirmishes across the expanse. Who is most flexible? Stitches quarrel in overbearing voice, rush to trenches, maintain positions. Colors invade each other's territory, singing violent victories of light. All clamor, all struggle, It faces the wall of faith while the weaver and the watcher . work from the front. St. Anne Higgins, D.C. 123 Franklin St., Petersburg, VA 23803 Celibacy in Africa Matungulu Otene, S.J. Zaire's Father Otene, ordained in 1977, is presently working in St. Peter and Paul parish: B.P. 1125: Lubumbashi: Zaire. This article is excerpted from the booklet. "C~libat Consacr~ pour une Afrique assoiff~: de F~:conditi:," published by Editions Saint-Paul Afrique, P.O. Box 8505; Kinshasa, which was translated into English by Louis C. Plamondon. S.J.: Manresa; Box 47154; Nairobi; Kenya. In English, it is no. 65 of the Spearhead series, "Celibacy and the African Value of Fecundity," published by Gaba Publications: P.O. Box 908: Eldoret: Kenya, which graciously granted permission for our use. ~f the reason for Christian celibacy is unique, that is, for Jesus Christ and his kingdom, every Christian called to this type of life is also called to live out this experience in the context of his own culture and personal history. An African celibate today is not celibate in exactly the same way as an Indian of today, even if both are celibate for the sake of Jesus Christ and his kingdom. There is a whole world of emotions and affectivity which permeates our celibacy very deeply. This is so true that the world we live in affects the objective and subjective content of our celibacy. Both what we hear being said about celibacy and what we experience in our flesh by living out what is said, are rooted emotions. Without this emotive element, there would be no human celibacy in the full sense of the term; conse-quently, there would be no Christian celibacy since the latter is deeply rooted in human nature and since celibacy itself has also to be incarnated. The affective life of a South American--his way of feeling and living celibacy--differs from that of an African from Zaire or Senegal. Among Africans there are a certain number of differences in affectivity. However, even if it must be admitted that within the same people there are different ways of feeling things, this, nevertheless, does not mean that African peoples do not have a greater affinity with one another than with peoples from the West or the East. After all, their cultural heritage is common. This seems evident even if there are shades of meaning or subtle nuances which are hard to express in these few short pages, which do not pretend to be a psycho-so-cial study of human societies. 14 Celibacy in Africa The cultural milieu in which the young African lives has a very great impact on his response to the Lord's call. Celibacy is surely an area in which sensibility is a very important factor, if not the most important. In fact, coming as he does from a family where marriage is viewed in a very special light, the young African will carry in the depths of his being, perhaps through his whole life, the impact of this way of thinking. It will take only a circumstance or an event to awaken in him a whole world of memories accumulated throughout his short life. The fact that his grand-father was polygamous, that his own father had more than one wife, and that his own mother was not the first wife of his father, nor the one preferred, cannot but have significance in his life of celibacy. The mere fact of knowing that in his extended family there is somewhere a cousin with five children, each with a different father, cannot be without significance. Those are his half brothers, but this entails that this good cousin of his.is a husbandless woman with children entirely dependent upon her. To know that his aunt is a prostitute with children, cannot' but have some impact on him. It is no small thing to have a deep sense of all these situations and still, despite all this, to dedicate his life to God in conse-crated celibacy. This world which I have just described briefly cannot be found as such in Europe nor in North or South America, but this is the world that has shaped the young African of whatever black African country he may be. One cannot ignore these realities and pretend that they do not have any influence whatsoever on people. For Africans the child is a reality to be treasured; and each human being does all in his power to leave behind him :some offspring, whether he be married or not married, living the life of a prostitute or of enforced celibacy. All Africans desire to have children, sometimes by any means. The young man who hears the Lord's call is living in this very world and not in any other. His' reflections and ways of thinking are rooted in the environment from which he comes, in the psycho-social milieu which surrounds him. This does not frighten the Lord just as no human milieu frightens him, because it is in such complex situations that he manages to find celibates for his kingdom. Growth in the Life of Celibacy To be sure, other cultures also have their own difficult problems in this area. I am merely showing that our way of experiencing the world has an influence on celibacy and that the cultural traditions are to be taken seriously, but without exaggeration. The young African called to a life of celibacy or religious life will have to integrate progressively within his affective life the realities which surround him without seeking to escape from them. He will do so by looking at them frankly, without panic, in prayer, in his personal relationship with Christ in the Eucharist. God's grace is always there, and this is what gives us confidence in the face of the strong temptations in this life. This young human being will have to understand that since the Incarnation, God gives his grace through weak human beings. Accordingly, to see clearly within his own being, he will have to be open with another person who has the experience of Jesus Christ. The one the Lord will "16 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 put in his path will show him the road to follow and will give him courage in the moment of trial when temptations are strongest. Celibacy requires a lot of disci-pline. He will have to learn to exercise great control over his senses and sometimes to give up things which are innocuous, and to focus on the unique reality which is necessary, Jesus Christ. For certain types of people, chastity can be gained only after a hard fight lasting many years; and this can cause a lot of anxiety when it happens to people who are scrupulous by nature, yet desirous of achieving holiness. What I have just written is not rhetoric. It sometimes happens that young people are torn apart inwardly because they want to dedicate themselves entirely to the Lord but yet cannot completely control certain evil habits or certain attitudes which they find difficult to evangelize. I insist that it is a difficult fight--a fight to death--a fight which moulds a man gradually as he learns bit by bit not to depend upon his own strength but on that of the Lord who has set him apart from his mother's womb to preach his Gospel to men of good will There are less sensitive types of people who do not encounter very many types of problems in their development, but irrespective of their sensitivity, all will undergo moments when they are forced to make a decision for the Lord. The chastity that is required by a life of celibacy is not a case of spontaneous generation--it is a garden that must be tended lest weeds grow in it. When one has gone astray, one finds it difficult, sometimes even impossible, to go back; thus, it is not surprising that some young, generous people have gone astray. Vigilance is necessary in these matters, but the kind of vigilance characteristic of those who are sure of victory; for if Christ is with us, who can be against? Sooner or later Christ will defeat this devil of our middle age who likes to attack our flesh, born in the human condition, born incomplete. The young celibate, therefore, will learn not to abuse God's grace. He will be prudent; he will not take chances with his celibacy. He will have the simplicity of a dove but the prudence of a serpent. The married man who is a dedicated Christian will not flirt with other women lest his marriage, be threatened and, accordingly, his real happiness and that of his home. The same holds true for religious. They also cannot take chances with their passions and put themselves in the position of violating the gift they have made of themselves in the simplicity of their heart. Nothing escapes lay people when it comes to observing the behavior of reli-gious. They notice even the smallest detail when they want to criticize their priests or religious men and women. Some even take pleasure in judging them, in scrutin-izing their behavior to find the smallest reprehensible thing. In this way, they purify their religious, even without wanting to. Lay people are surely not gullible, even though they sometimes misinterpret the way African religious live out their celibacy. They can often distinguish between the religious who is loyal and faithful to his consecration to the Lord from the religious who is beginning to compromise and. to give in. Assuredly, their judgments are not gospel truth, and often one would do well to minimize themremembering that even the great saints were often Slandered by malicious tongues. Celibacy in Africa Certain Difficulties or Certain Illusions It is sad to 'note that many young, generous and seemingly solid religious have lost the grace of celibacy because of supposedly spiritual relationships with women religious and with young girls. There is nothing more dangerous than these suspect relationships between men and women religious, nothing more scandalous for African Christians than to see their priests, their men and women religious become involved in expressions of human love under the pretext of love in Christ.Many men and women religious believe rather too easily that they have been made immune to the weakness of their flesh. They are a little too quick to believe that they have attained the required maturity in celibacy. They sincerely think that henceforth sex has no hold over them since they have become spiritual. Yet, it is a very sad and illusory spirituality which makes man believe that he is now immune to sin. A really spiritual person, on the contrary, depends entirely on the grace of God without giving up healthy vigilance. I believe that the closer one gets to the Lord, the more one realizes that what seemed innocent until then now takes on the appearance of something that is not entirely pure. However, far from being threatened or discouraged by this increasing desire for purity, one has more and more confidence in the Lord and greater humility when one thinks 6f how little one is virtuous. In true love there is no fear. This is so, it seems to me, in the case of one who wants to respond wholeheartedly, day after day, to the call of him who has made us pass from darkness to his wonderful light. In my humble opinion, it often takes many years of solitude to be able to experience a true spiritual friendship in Christ with members of the other sex. The danger is to believe too quickly that the right moment has come. That is often when one goes astray. As for any genuinely Christian life, celibacy cannot go without suffering. There is no real celibacy without the mystery of the cross written, as it were, in the flesh of baptized people. A celibacy without renunciation, without a sacrifice that is willingly accepted, a celibacy which refuses to die like the grain of wheat fallen in the soil is a celibacy locked up in solitude and bearing no lasting fruit. There are people who are undoubtedly privileged because of circum-stances and especially because of the Lord, but let us not be too quick to classify ourselves among those people and risk spoiling the splendid grace the Lord has given to us--the grace of living the celibacy of simple people without any special favors from God, I mean without any extraordinary grace. This simple gift, in fact, honors the Lord just as much as the extraordinary gift that some of us humans might receive from God. I don't mean to say that it is absolutely impossible for men or women religious to experience a healthy spiritual friendship with members of the other sex, but I believe that some of us think that we have attained that stage when we really haven't. Often, because of a lack of restraint or a lack of real self-knowledge, one strikes up a friendship which will tomorrrow become sinful, therefore, bad for oneself and for theirs. A friendship to which we are too attached, a friendship which prevents us from fulfilling our duties is a friendship to be "18 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 purified or, better still to be abandoned while there is time; that is, as soon as we become aware off where it is. leading, the relationship must be severed politely and without human respect. This is for the greater good of the person whom we love in Christ; finally, it is for the greater glory of the one who has called us to holiness, Jesus Christ. In the same way, a friendship which would render a member of a religious order incapable of being available to do what his superiors want 9f him is simply not good. It is for the Lord that we have joined religious life, not for the purpose of surrounding ourselves with protective partnerships which go against true charity. In,his infinite goodness, the Lord may put on our path a person of the other sex for a certain period of time. This, person will enrich us through, friendship, and this enrichment can be mutual. But, here again, this gracemust be lived in all simplicity and with the necessary prudence since we are all weak, sinful human beings. Hope for Africa ~ , Certain missionaries have led young Africans to believe that celibacy is more difficult for them than !t is for young people from the West. This opinion is based on ignorance or it is a lie. The fundamental problem, in fact, is the same for all human beings; the conditions that are found in any culture are not qualitatively different. In the final analysis, it is the same fundamental problem for different people in different cultures; there are accidental but no essential differences. I have sometimes been shocked to hear this type of broad statement according to which it would be practically impossible for Africans to live a life of celibacy. For me, celibacy is rooted in faith in the living Christ. It is something which permeates the faith of the one who feels called, and faith is something which is given by the Lord without any distinction of culture or race. There are differences, but they are not so essential that they make a life of celibacy impossible in AfriCa. There are enough African religious to show th~.t this is true. Among these meia and women of Africa, often living in some isolated areas, there are men and women religious who live their cbnsecration to the Lord even in heroic fashion. Their silent example is enough to prove that celibacy is possible for Africans, at least for those who feel themselves called to it and who respond generously. Not too long ago, 1 was telling a group of young Africans the following: either we are Christians or we are not; either we believe in Jesus Christ or we don't believe in him at all. In this area there are no half measures. It's all or nothing. This is why faith in Jesus Christ requries a complete transformation of our life-style and of our outlook. One of the aspects of our outlook on life which must change because it is absolutely against Christianity is this requirement of a fruitfulness that is exclusively biological. A man without children among us in black Africa is one who does not bear fruit, who is useless and even an outcast. If there is an obstacle to the awakening and living out of vocations (and I am talking here about voca-tions to the priesthood or religious life), it is our too limited way of looking at fruitfulness. Many Africans believe that a man cannot be completely fulfilled in or outside of marriage unless he has many children. Among us, celibate people and Celibacy in Africa married couples without children are not seen in a good light because they seem useless to our society. It may be understandable that some non-Christians think this way. But for Christians this is disastrous. Haven't we ever meditated on the life of Christ? Can we ignore that he was himself celibate? Or do we believe that Jesus was not a man like us except for sin? Yet our creed is very clear on this. Jesus was truly God and he was truly man. If such is the case, why wouldn't we allow those among us who wish to live like Christ to doso? If it be true that the face of being celibate did not diminish the God made man, why wouldn't we accept that a certain number among us are not diminished by celibacy for Jesus Christ and his kingdom? Has the world ever known a being as fully developed as Jesus of Nazareth, our Love? Yet, he was celibate. Isn't this Jesus who lived without a wife and children still, even today, a source of all life for us? One doesn't lose anything by responding to his call, by becoming celibate for him and for his kingdom where we shall all have only one Father, his own, and where all of us will truly be brothers and sisters in the Spirit who makes us one. The young African is thus called to live a life of faith in Christ. He must not think that celibacy is more difficult for him than for young people in other continents. This is simply not true. Let us take the example of the West where today may be found pornographic films, sex shops, nightclubs. To live in such a world is not always easy. It requires a certain self-discipline. In order to live a life of celibacy in such an atmosphere, it is necessary to cling to Jesus Christ, to have a deep life of prayer and to receive the Eucharist regularly. The young African man or woman called to religious life will always remember that we live in a world of male and female; consequently, it is clear that we have to live our celibacy in the midst of men and women of our times and of our culture. There is nothing wrong with that; on the contrary, it is a grace that the Lord gives us by inviting us to live out his gospel in the midst of the world and not in some isolated corner. At the crossroads the Lord may put on our path certain persons of the other sex. We will welcome them as brothers and sisters in the Lord. The gospel is full of examples that show us how Jesus respected persons of the other sex. He doesn't send away the sinful woman who comes to the house of Simon, the Pharisee to have her sins forgiven. On this occasion, Jesus could have been afraid of shocking people by receiving such a woman with open arms. But the Lord was not afraid of what people would say or think because in true love there is no fear. Neither does Jesus judge the woman caught in adultery like the Pharisees who bring her to him. On the contrary, he defends her against the "unmarked tombs" who have grown old in sin and yet want to preach to others. Jesus is close friends with Martha and Mary as well as with their brother, Lazarus. Jesus has pity on the widow from Naim who has lost her son. The Lord admires the Canaanite woman's faith, and he is exceedingly affectionate toward his mother Mary, the Immaculate Virgin. In his Gospel, the Lord shows us how his celibacy did not exclude anybody. He Was completely open; he welcomed others. In solitude he prayed and he was a 20 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 source of joy and peace for the people that God, his Father, had placed in his path. If religious life is to flourish in our African continent,it is necessary that there be more and more religious who witness by their life of celibacy. A celibacy based on Jesus Christ cannot but be fruitful. Black Africa, which has such a high regard for fruitfulness, will see a new type of love which outstrips in fruitfulness the love of the children of this world. We, the sons and daughters of Mother Africa, have believed in the word of him who said, "there are some who are eunuchs because they have made themselves so for the kingdom of heaven. Let him who can understand, understand" (Mt 19:!2). If there is a word which has become the life of our life, that is the one. Spiritual Fruitfulness If there is a fruitfulness that is biological, there is another one which is spiritual. Any parent worth his salt knows that it is' not enough to procreate children. In responsible parenthood, it is also necessary to help the child that we have brought to life to grow untilhe has reached a stage where he will truly be an adult. To educate, to instruct are part and parcel of his awakening to human life. It takes only one instant for a couple to initiate the process of procreation. It takes only a little time to call someone into existence, but it requries many years for a child to become an adult. Whether it be as parents, as educators, or in any other capacity, all those who are engaged in human formation are doing a type of work that is spiritually generative. Any man who helps another one grow and become more human is a man who is gpiritually generative. This spiritual generation exists at various levels; yet, the spiritual fruitfulness of a Christian is not that of a non-Christian. From a Christian point of view, any Christian man or woman who awakens another human being to the life of God in Jesus Christ is spiritually fruitful. The object of spiritual fruitfulness for a Christian is Jesus Christ and his message. It is the person of Christ which distinguishes any typically Christian fruitfulness from any other. All Christians are called to be fruitful but in different ways and in accordance with their state in life. The form of life of one who wakens to the life of God in Jesus Christ is not something that is accidental. There are some who believe that the way of life--whether it be of married Christians or of "eunuchs for the king-dom of God"---has no importance in the process of awakening to life. But when one awakens somebody else to life, one does it with all one's being. If our way of life is not something external to us but a part of our being and, therefore, a part of our relationship to God, to others, and to the world, we can readily understand that this life-style is not without importance in matters of spiritual fruitfulness. In his life Jesus preferred celibacy to marriage, and this choice is not something accidental. The Jesus of the gospels presents himself to us as celibate and not otherwise, and this is part of the mystery of incarnation. In the same way Jesus was not at the same time a man and a woman. He was not both married and non-mar-ried. He was a celibate, and tfiis fact has some relevance in the transmission of his Celibacy in Africa message. He wanted to be born of a virgin, Mary, and this also is not something purely accidental or accessory in the mystery of salvation. Thus one who chooses celib~acy for the kingdom of God is fruitful differently from married people. This difference is rooted in the order of being and not of having. It is an ontological reality and, therefore, it is a dimension surrounded with mystery. The spiritual fecundity of those who live in celibacy resembles closely that of Christ. In other words, the way that Christ was spiritually fruitful resembles the way in which a man is fruitful through a celibacy chosen for Christ. Obviously "to resemble" or "to be close to" is not the same thing as "to be identical to." Wherever a true local Church is to be found, there will be found also Christians who are married and Christians who are eunuchs for the kingdom. Each of these forms of life has a great importance in the aspect of fecundity which is essential for the life of the Church. The uniqueness of the spiritual fruitfulness of a celibate for the kingdom of heaven shares something of the mystery of God made man, of God who wanted to be among us without woman or child while being eternally generative. Death Song of a Grain of Wheat Born above the earth, Beloved of the sun, Sky-held. Rain-touched. Wind-taught to dance, I know I sang of joy. Borne beneath the ground, Forsaken by the sun, Sky-denied, Rain-forgot, I feel no more the winds, And know a slower song. Yet reach I for the sun-set fires And C~rr the hidden waters. Stretched, song-heavy with the wait ' Of days too long to measure, I learn to trust the darkness That consumes me: That sends my myriad children to be Born above the earth. Sister Linda Karas. RSM Mercy Consultation Center P.O. Box 370 Dallas, PA 18612 The Sparrow Has Found Its Home At Last: A Personal Account of Transfer Anonymous The author is a sister who transferred from an active to a contemplative community some several years ago. She explains in the article why she prefers to remain anonymous. The sharing which follows comes as the result of a suggestion made to me that I write about my experience of transfer from an active community to a contempla-tive order. My first response was a hasty and hearty "No." Then the possibility of helping any individual or community involved in a similar experience crept into my prayer and thinking. The good which might be achieved seemed to outweigh my natural reticence and my disinclinatio.n to discuss the subject. I have not taken any polls, nor have I statistics. I personally know exactly six solemnly professed nuns and a few people in formation who transferred from active to contemplative life. However, one would'have to have lived on a remote Pacific atoll for the last several years not to know that transfers are on the increase. What follows is not a scholarly analysis of the phenomenon of transfer. It is just my own experience and an endeavor to share what ! have learned. The reason for my choosing anonymity is that I might feel freer in what I write and also guard the identity of my former and present communities. There is another reason: the story is more God's than my own. The transfer, or more correctly, my contempla-tive vocation, is his work, his call, his idea. My part has only been a response to his initiative and to his love. Early History The idea of transfer did not come as a sudden inspiration. My first desire to be a nun came when ! was twelve and I was certain then that I was called to be a contemplative: I even knew to which order and monastery I was attracted. Some-thing, though, interfered with following this vocation: My father adamantly opposed the idea of his daughter being immured in a cloister. The whole topic was 22 A Personal Account of Transfer forbidden, and gradually I forgot the idea. In the meantime, I became acquainted wi~h the sisters working in our parish. I won my father's consent to join this :community which 1 genuinely loved and admired. I received a good fo, rmation and an excellent education. I was very happy and contented. One thing consistenly moved and drew me: prayer. Right from the beginning I had some difficulty with meditation books and their outline of points, colloquies and resolutions. It all seemed too ready-made. Also, the time given to this prayer (one-half hour) never seemed to satisfy my longing for greater intimacy and depth. My difficulty was remedied by the fact that God simply transcended the books and led me along his chosen path for me in prayer. Another remedy came by way of hiding alone in solitary places on the novitiate property. There God had free rein in my heart. The one thing I most wanted was to love him and see him known and loved. Of course I did try to speak of this desire to superiors. They seemed mbre concerned that I live the common life, practice virtue, and eliminate my faults. All this was quite understandable but not terribly encouraging. Matters came to a head when I became a junior sister. My desires for loving God alone and in hiddenness, and for a life which would embrace withdrawal and penance became a steady fire within me. Neither studies nor work could distract me from it. After some months of inner turmoil I finally had the courage to broach the subject of a contemplative vocation to the community confessor, a, retreat maste.r, and my immediate superior. None of these persons told me the whole thing was a temptation against my vocation, but since 1 was happy and well adjusted, they each felt that I had enough opportunity for the things I was seeking within the scope of the religious life as it was then being lived in the congregation. Again, this was essentially what I had been told in the novitiate. My disappoint-ment was as strong as the attraction I had experienced but l was able to set aside my yearning. The work in which I was engaged kept me busy. I enjoyed it and gave myself to it wholeheartedly. A few years later, an unforgettable retreat, coupled with God teaching me to pray with Scripture some months after retreat, gave direction and support to me in my relationship with him. He was so near, and daily he spoke to me in his word. This did not rekindle the desire for contemplative life~ but it did establish me firmly in the way of contemplative prayer. This brief history serves, I think, to underscore a fact in my life and in the lives of those women whose stories of transfer I know well: the vocation was felt very early and not taken too seriously by those in a position to advise and assist. Had they done so, a good deal of the suffering, struggle and turmoil of coming to a decision to transfer,after many years in an apostolic congregation might have been mitigated. . Coming to a Decision In the years following Vatican Council II my community undertook its renew-al and adaptation. I welcomed all the initial changes as healthy and hopeful. As time went on, however, I became unhappy with my own and the community's level 24 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 of secularization. My modest wardrobe and collection of trifling possessions troubled my conscience. I wanted and expected to receive annual assignments, but the new approach of applying for both position and residence, with the full expectation that one's preferences would be honored, contradi6ted my understand-ing of Gospel obedience. T.V., mixed drinks, popular novels, dating, and all the inevitable departures from religious life were matters of grave concern to me. It seemed to me that the true life of the community was ebbing away, that God and the love of God were no longer the focus of life. We still did a first-class job in our work, but there appeared to me~ little difference between ourselves and dedicated lay persons. Without going into more detail, I felt it necessary to include the foregoing inasmuch as it formed some of the background for my transfer. However, I do not feel that discontent and disapproval, even if justified, are good reasons for transfer. They would form a very shaky foundation for any new beginning and would surely raise questions in the community accepting a transfer sister. Flight from trouble could well indicate that the same pattern would be followed in the new community. It could also mean that the heart of the problem might be within the sister herself, and her response to difficult circumstances. Fleeing trouble was never part of my motivation. Had this been the case, I would have done it much sooner because I lived in painful community situations for several years before making a transfer. Furthermore, 1 was always very open and honest in communicating my thinking to my superiors. One cannot simply leave. There must be integrity in the decision and it should be made in peace and, as far as possible, in harmony with one's higher superiors. There should be no bitterness, resentment or anger. The vocation is followed as God's call and is a result of his initiative. This fact, if kept central in the minds of all concerned, makes for peace; and it is in this way that God's presence manifests itself to all involved. God uses all our experiences to our good and brings about his purposes. While not my motivation, discontent and disapproval were part of my personal expe-rience and did serve to keep me from what I saw as wrong, In a more positive vein, they ,kept me praying for God's light, strength and help. Certain tragic events in my own family also form a part of this picture and had their effect. Instead of completely discouraging me or leading me to despair or exodus from religious life altogether, everything brought me to the God of all peace and consolation. He alone became myRock of Refuge and Teacher. The alienation I experienced from my community and its value increased my love for him and my trust in him. Thus it was that my attraction for simply being with God in love grew stronger. A mere "concidence" (in quotation marks because the providence of the God who numbers the hairs of our fieads extends to every circumstance and happen-ing) occasioned my writing to the superior of a monastery. In time we became correspondents. When I first visited her and met her community in the grilled and bare parlor of the monastery I was deeply moved. This surprised me. I had not thought of contemplative life as my vocation for years, yet here 1 was, feeling completely at home with relative strangers and very strongly drawn to their sim- A Personal Account of Transfer / 25 plicity, humility, joy, peace and poverty. In the months that followed 1 was haunted by the experience. I found out more about their life and read of their origin. Could it be? Might 1 become one of them? Or was this merely a desire for escape from present suffering ("the grass is always greener.") or a dream too good to be true? Then, too, there was the possibility to be faced that God was calling me to deeper contemplative prayer rather than actual contemplative life. And might I be doing more good in the world outside a cloister rather than in it? I went through this inner and secret turmoil for several months. All the while 1 begged for light and some discernible, positive direction from God. 1 kept waiting and hoping for some outside confirmation of God's will. God was, in fact, giving me all the "signs" I needed, but I distrusted the most significant of them: the profound attraction the life held for me over the years and especially at that moment, the fact that it fulfilled the most unselfish aspirations of my heart, and the fact that I seemed to have the requisite "talents." How is it we so readily distrust our own intuition and heart? Yet here at the deepest level of our being is where God works. Again, I have heard the same experience related by others who transferred to contemplative life. 1 went through no particular "process" of dis-cernment. There was just myself and, I trust, the Holy Spirit, plenty of tears, prayer, and searing, soul-searching honesty. One thing 1 knew: my life had one purpose and that was to love God with all my heart and soul, mind and being and to tend solely to him. Nothing else mattered. I did not see it then as clearly as I do now, but that, too, was evidence of a contemplative vocation, and had been the most important reality in my whole religious life. In his own time, God spoke, and he completely calmed the storm. I came to a "peace surpassing understanding." All my doubts vanished. My questions came to an end. I knew. In light of that peace I first asked the superior of the monastery (of the same order as that to which I was first attracted at the age of twelve) if there were any possibility of her accepting me. At the time I made my request I know now I was too little aware of the risk a small enclosed community takes in accepting a transfer. 1 next confided in my old and saintly grandmother who gave me her blessing, encouragement and wisdom--along with a warning that there was "still plenty of the world" in me and that I'd have far to go. She was absolutely correct. With my grandmother's prayers to back me, I approached my major superior. She was wonderful and accepting. The depth of my peace and conviction were evident to her. She fully realized and agreed.that this was a genuine vocation and not a result of any differences of values or opinions. We communicated in a real spirit of love. Not knowing much about contemplative life, her concern was that my personality might be stifled or my gifts ignored and unused. 1 had tentatively broached the subject to a priest friend in a letter some weeks before. Visiting him, 1 told him the whole story and said that I really thought it was God's will for me to transfer. He informed me that it came as no surprise to him, that he had seen it coming but had not wanted in any way to interfere with God's guidance of me. Among my family and friends, the least suprised was my mother. Her intuition had led her to realize that a great change was in the offing. 96 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 The responses of all the above mentioned persons further confirmed my expe-rience. I cannot say that my decision was accepted or understood by all my friends and religious family. It caused some painful estrangements and there were those who could only accept it as my "thing" and therefore all right for me. The actual process of transfer was thus initiated after what had felt like an interminable period of waiting and praying. Perhaps God wanted me to realize that it was first necessary that I be utterly surrendered to his desires and that the only way he could achieve this was to let me struggle on "alone" during that time. It was a kind of game of love. He so deeply drew me but never let me fully reach him. Left to myself 1 could not believe in my own heart. It was not until he gave me that unmistakable sign and gift of peace that 1 was sure that what I had been experiencing in my own heart was indeed his will for me, that the two were not two, but one. Legal Process of Transfer Because 1 am rather sure questions about procedure will arise, it may be helpful here to tell what 1 know about getting the document known as a "Rescript of Transfer" from the Sacred Congregation for Religious. In my own case this was done in the last months of my postulancy immediately prior to my receiving the habit and commencing my canonical year. For the validity of novitiate, one must have this document. Ordinarily the Vicar for Religious of the diocese in which the monastery is located handles the paperwork. He directed that three letters be written: the first by the superior of the community ! was leaving expressing her approval and her willingness to receive me back at any time before solemn vows should I leave the monastery; the second by the superior receiving me stating her willingness to receive me and including pertinent data regarding my status in religion (name, age, years professed, community of origin); the third by myself. handwritten and addressed to the Pope, stating my request and my reasons for it. These letters are sent to the Vicar who forwards them to.Rome through his office. In approximately six weeks, upon receipt of the rescript, he sends copies to the superiors. This is, as ! understand it, the general procedure, although I have heard of it being done through the Vicar of the diocese which the transferring sister was leaving. I have also heard of cases handled by a major superior independently of the Vicar for Religious. The superior dealt directly with the Sacred Congregation for Religious. In any case, this rescript is the only permission one needs to begin the canonical year and proceed through formation to vows. New Beginning I entered upon my new life with certain expectations. Some were realistic and some not so realistic. It was realistic to expect some sense of dbjb vu. This was in many ways a return to customs and practices l had lived in my first several years of religious life. With these things I was at home. I had also rightly anticipated a warm community life. Of course 1 allowed for a period of adjustment, but I did not A Personal Account of Transfer expect it to last more than six to eight weeks, in fact, it took much longer than that. The reason was not that I was too old to learn or change or that 1 lacked a willing docility. It was more subtle than this. Without realizing it, I expected to enter upon a period of rest, a sort of honeymoon in a safe harbor after years of struggle and sorrow. This was not to be. For one thing, the monastic community I entered was going through its own renewal pains. And much worse, for me, was that when I came in the front door of the monastery it seemed that God left by the back door. Here 1 was at last, and where was he? The work tired me. The hard bed took some getting used to. Often it was impossible to get back to sleep once it had been broken by the Office or night adoration of the Blessed Sacrament. Sometimes the closeness of my neighbors irritated me beyond measure. There were no days off from routine. I expected to master everything easily but it turned out that I was the one to be mastered. After many years in religious life it amazed me to learn how deluded I was about myself. Without the distractions of apostolic work and all that goes with it, without useless conversation, reading and entertainment, God's light began to clarify my vision. The very starkness of the life, its purity, makes for this experience. I was face to face with myself, my weakness, my poverty. Anything is possible if God is tangibly supporting us. It is when he is appar-ently nowhere to be found that things get out of hand and we are unable to cope with the simplest and most normal inconveniences and trials of daily life. But ought not a contemplative be able always to find refuge in prayer? Self-made prayer is most unsatisfactory. What a contemplative learns by being unable to pray, by being reduced to utter poverty at every level of existence (and this was my experience) is just to cling in naked faith to Jesus Crucified. Paradoxical as it may sound, there is no greater happiness. Having come to this reality through suffering, both in my life before 1 entered the monastery and in the years 1 have been here, I know something of what it means to say with Paul that I have been crucified with Christ, that my life is not my own and Christ lives in me (Ga 2:19-20). The way to the deepest joy I have ever known is just as the Son of God has taught us and that way is by losing my life and denying my very self. The total experience of knowing myself as nothing, of having nothing, has opened my eyes in faith to the All within me, the Being who in unfathomable love calls non-being into union with himself. My love for God, my hunger for him, unites me at the Heart of Reality with all my brothers and sisters in this world. I do not live for myself, nor suffer for myself, nor weep for myself. My vocati6n embraces every person on earth. In their names 1 pray and work. In their names, I, too, am in misery and pain. I am a whole world calling to God in need, in love, in trust. 1 have entered eternity in time and within me there is infinite scope for love. I came because of love and I have stayed because of love. Surely it is "a narrow gate and a hard road" (Mt 7:13-14), but it "leads to life," life opening more and more into the mystery of God as love. The Needs of Contemplatives in Direction Barbara Armstrong, O.SS.R. This article had its origin in a presentation made to a group of retreat masters by Sister Barbara, a cloistered nun residing in the Redemptoristine Monastery; Liguori. MO 63057. Somewhere in her writings, the great St. Teresa compares the contemplative with the standard-bearer in battle. She says that, because he is the standard-bearer, he is exposed to great danger. He can't defend himself because he carries the standard, of which he must not let go--even if he is to be cut to pieces. "Contemplatives," she says, "have to bear aloft the sign of humility, the Cross. And they must suffer all the blows aimed at them without striking back. Their duty is to suffer as Jesus did." "Let them watch what they are doing," she says again, "for if they let the standard fall, the battle is lost." It isn't the standard-bearer who is important. It is the standard itself which is all important, for it is imprinted with the sign of our salvation: the Cross. Perhaps this is why there are so few contemplatives. Perhaps, too, this is why contempla-tives need all the help they can get just to respond fully to the call of their vocation, to persevere and become fruitful in the Church of today. You Have No Eyes to See The message sent to the Church in Laodicea, in the Book of Revelation, is also a message meant for contemplatives--and for those who guide them. Right after the familiar passage about lukewarmness, we hear the Lord say: "You have no eyes to see that you are wretched, pitiable, poverty-stricken, blind and naked. My advice to you is to buy from me that gold which is purified in the furnace, so that you may be rich, and white garments to wear so that you may hide the shame of your nakedness, and salve to put on your eyes to make you see." That phrase, "You have no eyes to see," is significant for us because ignorance The Needs of Contemplatives in Direction is one of the reasons why relatively few contemplatives ever attain the end for which they were called: union with God. Mystical graces, we are told, are always available. God's goodness and generosity are never lacking. But very few actually arrive at a state of contemplation. Why is this? To answer this question, I would like to tell you a story. Actually, it is a parable which is told in the book of a Carmelite nun, Sister Ruth Burrows. Here is her parable. A Love Story Hidden away in a valley surrounded by high mountains there lived a very primitive tribe. The people of this tribe knew very little of the world outside their valley. Occasionally, they would get a glimpse of a jet streaking across the sky far over their heads, and this, they thought, was one of the gods throwing spears at another. One day a man appeared in the valley, a young anthropologist. He had come to study the tribe at close quarters--if they would have him. But they were a gentle tribe, so they welcomed him. The young man was lodged in the chief's hut and lived there for some years. Eventually he fell in love with the chief's daughter and married her. Hitherto, the girl had thought herself wealthy. Was not her father the most powerful of their people? But the closer she grew to her beloved, the more she saw that her riches--the family cattle, some cooking pots and animal skins--were as nothing compared to the possessions that were her husband's. He had materials, leathers and machines, knives and matches to make fire--riches unimaginable. But the girl saw, too, that her husband's greatest delight was to share his riches with her. Her lack merely aroused his bounty, so she knew her poverty itself primarily as a richness, giving them both pleasure. There came a time when the anthropologist had to leave and, taking his wife with him, he returned to his own civilization. The native girl found this new environment terribly alien. She discovered, to her horror, that her husband's enemies laughed at him behind his back because of his primitive wife. Even his friends pitied him. She didn't know what to do with this bitter knowledge. Some-how she had brought disgrace on her loved one. The girl always knew that her husband loved her. She knew that he longed to share his heart with her, take her completely into his life. But when he tried to speak of so many things closest to him, she would notice his voice falter, for she could not follow even the meaning of his words, let alone the scope of his thoughts and concepts. She was shut off from him by her own limitation and ignorance. That caused her distress almost beyond bearing. The more she realized what her poverty cost her beloved, the more absolute became her will to escape from it for his sake. Equally the more clearly did she see that, of herself, there was no escape. But all was not lost because she also realized that in her husband she had come not only to understand her poverty, but to find an effective and everpresent escape from it. From him she could receive all that his Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 love had prepared for her. So she opened her heart to everything he had to offer her. She found in him the most loving of teachers. Soon she became the echo of his thought. There passed between them intimate glances of complete understanding. She had an intuitive knowledge of how his mind worked, so closely did she grow to him. Yet she bad lost nothing of that natural woman he had first loved. On the contrary, she only now realized her own innate capacity. Her enrichment had brought all that was already there to bloom. But now, more than ever, she knew, too, that this was all his doing. Every perception, every growth, had come from his love and his teaching. Genuine Contemplatives This story, lengthy though it be, brings out so many important points about the contemplative vocation. Years ago, maybe it's different now, one of the phrases we often heard was that "we should strive for perfection." This tended to make us think that we could do it all ourselves. The main idea seemed to be that we were in control of our lives. The success of things depended on our own efforts. And so, many of us thought we could become contemplatives by the things we did. Like the primitive tribe of our story living in their valley, though, our horizons were very limited. We were content with our regulated existence, our own personal riches and the consolations sent us from time to time by a loving God. Much confid~nce was attached to the good things of our little enclosed world. We had no eyes to see beyond our then present peaceful life. But since we are meant to be genuine contemplatives, Jesus began to break through our ignorance and complacency. He asked us to leave our valley of poverty. He invited us to a rich interior world, one we had never dreamed of. These invitations continue to be offered to us in many ways. Perhaps they come in a retreat, in a sermon, in our reading, or through the words of a friend. But the voice is the voice of Jesus, and he invites us over and over again. If the primitive tribe in our story had turned away the young anthropologist when he came among them, he would never have married the chief's daughter. She would never have learned about the larger world; she would have stayed in her ignorance. Think of all the beauty, rich, ness and love of which she would have been deprived. The great St: Teresa was satisfied for a long time with her routine religious exercises, even though in her heart she knew better. We read that she continued to live just over twenty ,years with her heart divided between two extremes: the pleasures, satisfactions and pastimes of her fashionable world, and the spiritual life of a contemplative. How can this happen? How can we contemplatives continue to fool ourselves ---even though we are continually prodded, continually touched by grace? One of the ways we contemplatives have of staying in our valley of poverty is by our attachment to .the Law. We can" fall prey to a sort of fanatical legalism. The Needs of Contemplatives in Direction Most often, it seems, it is the most pious of persons who become rigid and unbending formalists. "Here at last," we say, "is something solid to hang on to." In our own eyes we are in the right. "We are doers of the Law." Any ,doer of the law, however, will also be tempted to live by the law, whereas the true lover of Jesus lives by the spirit. We contemplatives tend to make the Law, and it alone, our security. We never even dream that it is possible to seek a perfection in anything whatever with an intensity of zeal that is in itself imperfect. For instance, often in the past, the cross, austerity, suffering was unthinkingly perverted by us in our zeal. Wehad the idea that, since we were only pleasing God when we were suffering, the more suffering the better. Fearing and hating our bodies, we thought, would make us spiritual people. This, together with the notion that we were redeemed by suffering since Jesus died for us, we pushed .to its logical conclusion, thinking that we could never have too much suffering. It wasn't suffer-ing that redeemed us. It was love.t We contemplatives can develop attachments to just about anything: to prayer and fasting for their own sake; to a pious practice or devotion; to a custom or system of spirituality; to a method of meditation, even to contemplation itself (or to what we think is contemplation.) We can become attached to virtues, to things that, in themselves, are marks of heroism and high sanctity. We religious men and women, called to be saints, can allow ourselves to be blinded by an inordinate love for such things and can remain just as much in darkness and error as those who seem far less perfect than we. Some of us can become gluttons for prayer and for silence and solitude. Silence can become an ultimate. When there is noise we become angry and rebel-lious. If we are required to set aside our solitude for the sake of charity, we fill the air with our complaints. This kind of solitude and silence is false, of course, a refuge for the individualist. Perhaps the deepest attachment of all, the one which keeps us in our valley of poverty the longest, is attachment to ourselves. On this we must keep a fingerhold; we just cannot let go. Self-respect, self-fulfillment, self-satisfaction--we have to look good in our own eyes and in the eyes of others. We worry.about failure because somehow we are not living up to the expectations we have set for our-selves. Only secondly do we consider the expectations of God. In our story the chief's daughter found that her lack aroused her husband's bounty. She knew her poverty primarily as a sweet thing. But covetous as we are, we contemplatives want our hands full. We must have something of our own which we can bestow on God; or at least hold out to him, thinking to win him over with our generosity. When Jesus Touches Us Sooner or later we begin to realize that this way of living does not work; we begin to see that relying on ourselves alone is doomed to failure. When Jesus touches us with his mystical graces, what happens? Our eyes are opened and we are Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 dissatisfied with everything. This overwhelming feeling of dissatisfaction could very well be Jesus' most precious gift of all. But it does not seem so to us~ We look within and discover the same faults and vices we have always been burdened with. Prayer has become almost unbearable. Spiritual things in general lose their familiarity and joy. Panic deepens. Life seems turned upside down and inside out. Above all this, the knowl-edge that we have failed the Lord, that we have dropped the standard, that the battle is being lost--this is our deepest sorrow. But although all seems lost, what we experience in reality is the finding of our true life in Jesus. Like our primitivegirl, we, too, begin to realize, at last, that only in Jesus will we find our ever present redemption from our dreaded poverty. Retreat masters, spiritual directors and confessors will do us the greatest favor if they direct their efforts toward instilling in us an abiding trust in the all-loving Providence of God and in the saving life of Jesus. They should help us to mistrust ourselves and to surrender ourselves into His hands. They should teach us to cling to him no matter how dark things seem to be, teach us to have faith in his love and in his forgiveness no matter what we think we have done; no matter how we think we have failed. Signs of Progress What are the signs by which spiritual directors may gauge for certain real progress in contemplatives? Some of the outward manifestations of an inward mystical encounter or of infused contemplation might be the following: We contemplatives might describe to directors an experience of a deep and painful knowledge of ourselves, for we begin to see ourselves as we truly are. We may say that all our illusions are b~ing shattered, especially our illusions of self-importance. We may tell them that all our cherished ambitions are unmasked for the first time, or that we feel our dignity has been overthrown. We will, perhaps, tell them that we are lost; that we are not sure any more if we are leading dedicated lives at all. We exper!ence a growing sense of insecurity. At the same time, strange as it may seem, we experience at~ acceptance of this state. As our native girl found when she op~ned her heart to everything her husband had to offer her, so we contemplatives begin to see everything in a different light. Our lives of austerity, our efforts at mortification will acquire a deeper significance. We understand that as God is our life, we must let nothing take the edge off our need for him. This is a new way of living out our hunger and thirst, our refusing to be satisfied. We are consenting to have no security and no other satisfaction but God; a God who is unseen and unfelt. So near is he and so awesome, that unless we say "Yes" to him all the time, and accept life as he gives it, we must return to our valley of poverty. The temptation to turn back can be overwhelming. But it is also true that we are given a powerful strength at this time, enabling us to persevere. All this, of course, is an effect of Jesus' lox;e for us. We remember, indeed we cannot for a The Needs of Contemplatives in Direction moment forget, that any enrichment in us is all his doing. Still, this is a time of great struggle and temptation. Perhaps the greatest temptation will be to abandon prayer or at least to try to escape, in some way, the grievous suffering of a deep emptiness and poverty within. This empty prayer, however, has tremendous importance. If we consent to wait humbly for the Lord, we will, all unknowingly, find that it is precisely in this arid waste that Jesus is touching us. At this juncture, the contemplative might tell the director of an experience of being literally undone and remade, for there are no half measures any longer. What is really happening is that our faith is being deepened all the time. A sure sign that we contemplatives have not made progress will be precisely the certainty that we have! Alternatively another certain sign of growth might be the gradual disappearance of a tendency to criticize and find fault. There appears instead, a more gentle outlook; a kinder and more compassionate approach, thanks be to God. Love: Human and Divine Love has been our theme all the way through. But now I would like to be a li'ttle more specific about love, I mean the place of both human and divine love in the contemplative life. I think we will all agree that human affection is probably the most sweeping emotion in us. So, from the outset, we need to keep these two loves, the human and the divine, in order, lest the human sweep us off the foundation of the divine. To feel attraction for another, of course, is not wrong. Yet, for some of us, it can and does become a .dangerous thing. We fear to admit our feelings and to accept them, for the very difficulty in doing so can pose a thousand problems for us. At the same time, we know that this is the only healthy approach. It means we are accepting our sexuality and womanliness. I wonder if any of us ever fully grasps what a block to God's transforming action lies in the refusal to face up to and integrate our sexuality, and live it out continently for the glory of God? The Carmelite, Sr. Ruth Burrows states: "Being sexual means basically that 1 am a half and. not a whole. I am incomplete as I am and I tend, unconsciously, always to seek my other half, even though consciously, ! have renounced my right to marry and have children and be made whole by another. But grace does not work fully in a half person, so I struggle to love purely though it be through a great deal of suffering, because Jesus has promised to fill my emptiness with himself and so take away the ache of loneliness. If I am to become whole it will be in him and I must live in the hope of becoming whole in him and in him alone." The greatest danger is that we will try to get rid of the pain. We will even deny that these desires and attractions exist because they do not fit our stereotypic image of "the holy nun for whom God is enough." When we deny these feelings, the temptation will be to seek compensation for what we have given up. Frustrated longing comes to the surface sooner or later. It shows itself in outward behavior 3tl / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 such as domination of others, maternalism (or paternalism), or a passive or child-ish dependence. Who hasn't encountered these types in religious life? There are the old maids or bachelors. They will avoid personal involvements of every kind. In the name of holy recollection, they "keep their hearts for God alone." They are afraid to make friends and so they play it safe. Then there are the frustrated wives and mothers--and we might add, frus-trated fathers. These have never faced up to the truth of their feelings and desires. So they live on compensations instead of on God. They use their friends selfishly, looking for gratification from them. They dominate.and control other lives for their own ends, thinking all the while that this is "holy freedom" and "human fulfillment." To get back to us women: a woman, by nature, is meant to be selfless, receptive, wholly intent on giving and loving, that others 'might become them-selves. But when we see so many religious women leave their institutes these days, giving up their vocation and going back to secular life, we're not judging them when we ask, "Could it be that they did not get the help they needed in this problem of love?" Perhaps they found no one to understand their problem. Was there anyone to whom they could have gone for guidance amid these conflicting feelings, desires and attractions? I think we all need to know that it's alright to feel attraction and affection for others, especially for those of the opposite sex. I think we need to hear again and again that the feeling of attraction is only one side of love; that it may lead to love but that it is not itself real love but only a feeling. And like any feeling, it will not last thus forever. In the meantime, the tension in which we are caught, between our desires for exclusive love and our commitment to universal love, needs some level-headed self-control. We need someone to encourage us tO effort, watchful-ness and patience, humility and trust in divine grace. The struggle will teach us to rely on a spiritual power higher than our own nature. There is no doubt that we will grow from this struggle, which with God's help will become creative. We will learn to grow up, to take total responsibility for our own lives, their choices and decisions. And we will allow no one and nothing to turn us away from the principles by which we wish to live. The ultimate answer is found only when Jesus is re'peatedly placed before us as the object of our whole desire, and when, by repeated redirection, we are gradually transformed into him. Viva Memoria Finally, there comes a time when the interior rending apart, the anxiety, the sense of terrible absence are no more. The mysteries of Jesus, previously seen as the imitation of Christ giving the external principles by'which we were guided, now become our own mysteries, and we live progressively the life of Jesus; we become literally living memories. All that happens to the "personal me" begins to give joyful insight into the knowledge of Jesus himself. ~ Our venerable foundress, Mother Mary Celeste, has something to tell us about The Needs of Contemplatives in Direction this mystical state of contemplation. In her prayer our Lord speaks to her in these words which she passes on to us: "My spouse, abandon your own free will, your willing and your not willing, and leave all to my Divine Providence and my disposal. Make yourself an echo of my Willing. And if I say to you in my good pleasure: 'A cross,' then in your willing, will the cross. And if I say: 'Humiliation and contempt,' then be my echo and say, 'contempt.' And if I say: 'Kiss me with the kiss of sweet union,' then give me the most sweet echo of love and kiss me. It is in this way that you have no other desire or will than the absolute movement of my Will. Thus while you live, I, too, live as if I alone were alive in your very being, a.nd not you yourself." As with the happy couple in our love story, so it is with us: There begins the passing of those intimate glances of complete spiritual understanding. We might say that our whole occupation is love, or that prayer is our life. Either statement would be equally true. Then there is an awareness of deep contentment. That doesn't mean that growth isn't possible. In fact, it has to happen. The surrender becomes deeper and deeper, letting God do everything, totally sure that he will do so. And so ours becomes a life of deeper and deeper trust. We might end this as we began by saying, once again in the words of Sister Ruth Burrows, "Holiness in the contemplative is not a greatness but a total acceptance of human lowliness and total surrender of it to God in trust." Desert--After Fire Twisted; tortured, Bare black This land. Seared, scarred, What remnants remain. Evening whispers, "All is lost." Night mantles dark Deeper than ever touched This fire-scorched earth before. This land will heal. Soft spring rain Will sift tl~rough ashes. Bring new life to seed Concealed beneath the crusted earth. The cross is fire too And bare its wood Which must be aflame Before the Paschal morning dawns To heal and renew. Sister Miriam John, R.G.S. Patterdell 1820 W. Northern Ave. Phoenix, AZ 85021 Indwelling Prayer: Centering in God, Self, Others David J. Hassel, S.J. This article~ is a chapter from a book, Radical Prayer, which Father Hassel hopes soon to publish. An earlier article, "The Feel of Apostolic Contemplation-in-Action," appeared in the issue of May, 198 I. Father continues to reside at Loyola University of Chicago; 6525 North Sheridan Rd.; Chicago, IL 60626. The most radical of all types of prayer may well be indwelling prayer, for its quiet power pulses the movements of all other types of prayer. Indeed, the praying person, carried along by the seeming passivity of indwelling prayer, drifts closer and closer to the inmost self where the~ majestic God waits to welcome him or her warmly. In the attempt to delineate this deepest prayer, the reader's familiarity with various forms of more active prayer will be used as contrasting background for recognizing and appreciating more passive prayer. Some of these more active types of prayer would be: 1) problematic prayer wherein one reviews personal problems with the Lord while expressing various needs arising from them (e.g., peace in a troubled mar-riage, a job sought in the midst of a depressed economy, success in collegiate studies, mental health for a troubled daughter, good weather for the tourist season); 2) insight prayer (meditation): seeing the spiritual meaning of, e.g., a gospel event, a striking sentence in a saint's biography, a friend's casual but penetrating remark, a shocking event witnessed by chance; 3) spaced vocalprayer in which one spaces out the words of a favorite vocal tThe comments of James F. Maguire, S.J., of Edmund Fortman, S.J., and of Mary Ann Hoope, B.V.M., were especially incisive in revising this article for publication. 36 Indwelling Prayer / 37 prayer like the Our Father in order to discover and to reflect upon the fuller meaning of each phrase; 4) gospel contemplative prayer: seeing, hearing, feeling the gospel event as it unfolds in one's imagination; introducing oneself imaginatively into the scene as a friend of the apostles, as a servant girl, as a sick shepherd; 5) petitionary prayer: asking for God's help, e.g., to bring this person back to church, to relieve this person's mental agony, to be able to handle this court case well; 6) liturgicalprayer: the community finding God together in the sacred event of Eucharist, baptism, marriage, anointing of sick, reconciliation of sinners, and so on; 7) affective prayer: wherein feelings of hope, love, fear, anger, and desire (for God, for various virtues for saving situations, for the saints and for friends) operate. These are, of course, not ~all the forms of more active prayer, but they serve to illustrate the meaning of the term more active prayer for our purposes here. Familiarity with these types of more active prayer will later enable one to recognize, by experiential contrast, more passive prayer, and, hence, indwelling ;prayer, the probable source of all types of more passive prayer. Consequently, our first task is not to define abstractly more active prayer against more passive prayer, but instead, to get the "feel" of each by contrasting their diverse types of presence to God, self, and the world. This demands that, in ~/second step, we explore the experience of "presence" and ~ote the paradoxes arising in the presence constitut-ing more passive prayer. Thirdly, we will investigate whether more active and more passive prayer cancel out or nourish each other. In a fourth step, we note how those entering into more passive types of prayer, often undergo the discouraging feeling of prayerlessness, a purifying experience which paradoxically leads into awareness of the indwelling prayer underlying the more passive forms of prayer. At this point, we are finally ready to enter the life-rhythms of indwelling prayer and to search out the ways of doing this trinitarian prayer at the center of our being. Here, too, it should become clear why trinitarian prayer could be the presence underlying all types of prayer. For it reveals death and resurrection at new depths in our being. But for the present let us begin to deal with the diverse presences of more active and more passive prayer. The Diverse Presences of More Active and More Passive Prayer To distinguish more active prayer from more passive prayer is not to abandon one for the other, not to put a premium on one over the other, nor to deny their need of each other. But it is to see how they promote each other and to note how more passive types of prayer are rooted in indwelling prayer. Here definitions can mean nothing if they do not touch our prayer experience, or if they are ambiguous enough to bag together all types of prayer indiscriminately. Therefore we must distinguish these different types of prayer by describing the diverse experiences in which they occur. Let us begin such a process by first trying to discover the root of 311 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 more active prayer. Seven types (among many) of more active prayer were mentioned earlier. Actually all types of more active prayer seem to burgeon out of a single root, a "stretching out to the Lord." What is this stretch? It may well be an attitude towards others which the average good person has. To illustrate this, answer the following questions, and notice what you discover within yourself: i) Why not sleep later than usual today?--Suppose you do inconvenience some people like those in the car pool, like the spouse waiting at the breakfast table, like the other workers in the ,office or at the assembly line, like the students in the classroom? 2) Why pay attention at breakfast to the kids'chatter and the spouse's com-plaints about the leaking roof when the morning paper would be so much more interesting? 3) Why get to work a little bit early in order to get the jump on things so that the day goes better for everyone? 'Why not let others worry about the day? 4) Why help out at this or that emergency when you've got your own job to get done, too? Why not tell them to do the best they can without you since you're busy? 5) Why break off a lively lunch conversation to answer a telephone call or to listen to Henry's usual request for a loan to tide him over the weekend? 6) Why use your midafternoon break for correcting Jenny's letter to the man-ager protesting his failure to put her in charge of the secretary pool? 7) Why correct the kids at the dinner table when it's so much eas'ier to let things go and pretend you didn't see or hear it? 8) When you're dead tired and comfortably waiting for the T.V. news to come on or when you are just starting to relax with a little hi-fi music, why agree to hear the spelling lesson or arbitrate the latest argument betw, een the ten year old and the eleven year oM? 9) Why end and start your day with prayer at the tioes you're most tired? And why go to early Mass on your golf or hairdresser's day and also on Sunday, the only times you can sleep in? In other words, why keep stretching, stretching, stretching through the day unless there is a person waiting at the end of the stretching~ unless there is the Christ or the Father or the Spirit? This refusal to protect yourself from others and from God is a mysterious attitude.'Could it pbssibly be the lure of your vocation, the strength of your friendship with Christ (and therefore with his people, your people)? Could this attitude even be the taproot of 'all the types of more active prayer in your life? Could it even be the basic source of your contentment with life underneath all its irritations, failures, missed opportunities, and dashed hopes? Of course, this "stretch" attitude underlying more active prayer is. buried within one's consciousness and so it can be discovered only through the type of question-ing just completed. Yet is there riot some single directing lure running like'a golden thread through the "stretch" of the day to gi~,e direction and meaning to one's life? Indwelling Prayer And does this thread not lead eventually to the attractive Christ who alone makes fitting sense out of one's life? How can a person stretch out to all the needy unless first God is stretching out to him or her? .Here active prayer is seen as presence to the world and its needs--a presence inspired by Christ's appealing call. It would seem, then, that we may have tapped the root of more active prayer and are now ready to find the source of more passive prayer. More. passive prayer is often defined as a resting in God or a quiet'alertness to God and to others. Thomas Green describes it as "floating freely in th~ sea of God," as allowing God to direct oneself wherever he wills.2 In common with more active prayer, it is a refusal to protect oneself, it is an availability to God and to others. This common element,,hints at a deeper experience underlying both more active and more passive prayer and uniting them. And yet these two types of. prayers are quite different .since more passive prayer is often like a sinking into one's inner depths to find God; while more active prayer is a stretching out to others and to God in others. Even when more passive prayer is awareness of a God-vibrancy in clouds, trees, animals, and people's faces, voices, gestures, it nevertheless is more a stirring in the depths of one's being than a reaching out to touch. Even when one becomes aware of God somehow speaking and acting through the other person, passive prayer is more an alertness within one's own being than the message in the other's'action. Indeed, more passive prayer is, for the most part, careful listening, long waiting, occasionally a soundless crying out to God in his seeming absence. At other times, it is. allowing the Spirit to pray in me to the Father without my having any control; it is letting Jesus invade me totally,in my powerlessness and then .experiencing the resultant clash of fear and gladness within me. , ~ As more passive prayer progresses in the person, it can distill into a simple presenting of the self to the Lord. It is merely a "wanting to be with God" which is often intensified by Eucharistic presence. It is a wordless, thoughtless, imageless facing to .God. It is almost pure presence at the deepest level of experience; while in the upper levels of experience one can be .simultaneously aware of pain in one's posture, of distracting thoughts and images, of feelings of fatigue or elation. But the latter appear negligible compared to the facing of God. Here the praying person is facir~g not only God but also the mystery of presence itself. Perhaps the feeling and meaning of presence hold the key to understanding more passive prayer~ The Experience of Presence: Its Paradoxes in More Passive Prayer What is the "feel" of presence for us? It can be the invigorating experience of knowing that one's father and mother are listening proudly during one's piano 2Thomas H. Green, S.J., When the Well Runs Dr), (Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1978), p. 150. Just as this book is ekcellent for its descriptions of more passive prayer, so his Opening to God (Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1977) describes well more active prayer and delineates simply and directly the basic principles of beginners' prayer. tll~ / Review for Relig!ous, Jan.-Feb., 1982 recital~ or watching eagerly from the basketball grandstands for one's next basket. It can also be the sense of depletion, of sinking heart, when one sees the "enemy" coming into the room, hostile and even malevolent, to observe one's expected failure. Presence can be a sustaining strength in the hospital room. No need for words or for the busy alleviating of pain, just the steady touch of being there. Presence is an enriching moment when the vast anonymity of the great airport terminal'is shattered by a familiar voice calling one's name. Sometimes "absence" can sharpen one's awareness of what presence is. One observes two people talking to each other but neither listening, each waiting impatiently for his or her turn to speak. Absence can be the "freeze" where two people working side-by-side in a bakery or in an office, condemn each other heartily and render the eight-hour day coldly miserable for each other. The politi-cal handshake can be an insult when the state's leader has shaken three hands while still talking to the first hand. Here absence hardly makes the heart grow fonder. Presence, at times, seems to grow without any effort on one's part. Old friends go to the concert together. As soon as the music begins, they~are rapt and seem-ingly totally oblivious to the other. But neither would consider for a moment going to the concert alone. Underneath the silent raptness, their friendship continues to grow quietly--a conclusion proven by a new depth of sharing as they return home amid slow, mulling conversation. Not rarely three friends hike the mountain trails for six to eight hours with only an occasional word and: an almost silent midday lunch. Yet the enjoyment of each other is intense and, underneath the quiet calm, intimacy grows. It would seem that the beauty of music and nature mysteriously sensitizes each person to the other instead of distracting each from the other. This sense of the other's person deepens over the years; familiarity does not always breed co.ntempt. The tight-knit family may have more than its share of private squabbles, but its members have a true sixth sense when one of them is in jeopardy or in deep joy and they quickly arrive to rescue or to rejoice. Such a family, over the years, develops a secret language of grimace, wink, smile and code-words which sum up a lifetime of shared sorrows and laughs; the person of each is uniquely appreciated. The lover of many years still feels a _leap of heart when the beloved comes into the room or when the lover hears the beloved's laugh from the far side of the party chatter. The lover's heart affirms the beloved's "simply being there"---apart from what he or she is saying or doing;just as the two concert-goers and the three hikers are doing more than enjoying music and nature. They find in the being of music and mountains a new way in which to resonate to each other's being, i.e., to grow in the intimacy of friendship. For what is intimacy if not this acquired ability to live deeply with each other, to resonate in each other's very being, in such a way that friends can, on occasion, say to each other: "It doesn't really matter much where we go or what we do so long as we are together." Such intimacy, expressed through quick knowing glance, light caress, exuberant play, and the clasp of hand, perdures and grows at the being-level in emergency rooms, during sweaty decision-times about job and fam- Indwelling Prayer ily, on the beach, at the "graduation ceremonies" of the retarded child, at the birthday parties, within the many hasty breakfasts and more leisurely suppers. From all this, could one say that "presence" is intimacy or mutual resonance at the level of being? If so, then this could reveal much about the dynamics between more active and more passive types of prayer. If presence would be deep awareness of the other's very being, then "the prayer of simple presence" to God could be the praying person's affirming of God's being and God's affirming of the praying person's being. In more passive prayer of simple presence, one becomes aware of Christ and of his interests because one now allows him to enter oneself and one's work at the level of one's very being or personhood? In more passive prayer, God becomes more real for the praying person because the latter lets God be more real, i.e., lets God be Being Itself. The praying person does this by refusing to box up God within her or his own ideas, theories, and expectations. Rather, this person allows God to act in him or her: by remaining passive, he or she gives God time to become more present to the self. Paradoxically, then, more passive prayer renders a person more fully present to God and to self than does more active prayer. Through more passive prayer, the person becomes literally a being-for-God. Indeed, the divine name, Yahweh, comes to mean not merely "I am who am" but also "I am the One who will be for you." Is it possible that at this juncture we have reached that basic attitude of prayer which underlies all other attitudes of prayer? Is this the most radical of all prayers? For this basic attitude is the very being of a person as a "being-for-God." At this point, a second paradox comes into view. In more passive prayer, because the praying person is more present to self and to God at the level of being, he or she can now meet others at their being-level, not just humans but also animals, plants, and even non-vital things like mountains, rivers, fire, and stars. For with the experience of God's tender regard for oneself as unique and undying comes the ability to appreciate others as having unique worth and destiny. It is no wonder, then, that through more passive prayer, the praying person paradoxically becomes more actively present to the whole wide world. Even distant horizons are expanded by the intimate depth at which beings resonate with each other. For this reason more passive prayer renders the praying person more active in works for the family, the neighborhood, the Church--and also more hopeful because more trusting of the Holy Spirit's activity in the self and in others. More passive prayer, in making the perso.n less trusting of his or her own activity apart from God, has enabled the person to become more bold for the Church by 3Karl Rahner speaks of this passivity when describing the conditions of transcendence. "[Transcen-dence] may not be understood as an active mastering of the knowledge of God by one's own power, and hence also as a mastery of God himself. By its very nature subjectivity is always a transcendence which listens, which does not control, which is overwhelmed by mystery and opened up by mystery . Transcendence exists only by opening itself beyond itself, and, to put it in biblical languag,e, it is in its origin and from the very beginning the experience of being known by God himself" (Foundations of Christian Faith [New York: Seabury, 1978], p. 58). 42 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1982 allowing God to enter the self and to power the latter's actions. This is where personal vanity becomes reduced and the confidence in self-sacrifice gets increased. Evidently, the more passively praying person is more consciously a "being-for- God" and more clearly sees God as "I am the One who will be for you." The Differences Challenge and Nourish Each Other At this point having described more active and more passive prayer for them-selves, we are now in position to etch out their differences and to discover why these two types of prayer are called "more active" and "more passive" rather than simply active and passive prayer. It would appear that more active prayer is more conceptual than its counterpart, that is, more concerned with ideas and insight. It is also more creatively imaginative as it deals with plans of action, options for decisions, visions for the future, ambitions for the present. Again, more active prayer is more consciously integrative around a central idea or insight: "As 1 see it, the one great value in life is . "or "The central theme in my prayer is . " It is more apt to try to control: "We could set up this system of priorities, then get that done immediately; then . " It is more energetic, that is, more work oriented, more prone to gathering achievements. Finally, it is more bodily, because action in the world is incarnated through the body. On the other hand, more passive prayer is more affective than conceptual, more conscious of feelings for the other and in the other; therefore; it is more value oriented than vision enthralled. It is also more receptive than creative in its use of the imagination; thus, art and nature speak out more clearly and enter more movingly into the person praying more passively. It is more integrative by person or spirit than by idea: "This person loves me and so 1 can take the hard knocks ahead," or "1 don't quite understand her plan, but I trust her and will do what she says," Indeed, more 'passive prayer is, strangely, more spontaneous than con-trolled; it is more disturbing, more surprising, more dangerous to a person's careful selfishness. One says more often: "This happening in prayer wa~ a rather unex-pected revelation for me; I'm not sure 1 like this turn of events." Again, in more passive prayer there is more waiting, more expectancy, more sharp listening: "Nothing seems to be happening for days, and then boom ."Finally, it is more soulful in its reflective sinking into the self to find God. It should be clearer now that one must name these two types of prayer more active and more passive lest we split the personality of prayer. For both types are active and both are passive but with different emphases. For example, both use concepts, imagination, and feelings; but more active prayer is more conceptual than affective and the reverse is true of passive prayer. More active prayer deals more often with the creative imagination and more passive prayer works more often with the receptive imagination; but both types of prayer, working' in one and the same imagination, use not only the creative but also the receptive function of the imagination. All this would seem to point to their radical unity, especially since in both types the praying person has the intent not to prote,ct and to comfort the self but rather Indwelling Prayer / 43 to be available to God and to his people. Indeed, it would appear that either type of prayer would go slack and die without the appropriate challenge of the other type: Without the "stretch" of more active prayer, more passive prayer could wallow deep in the self and even forget God, much more his people. Without the "reflective sinking into being" of more passive prayer, more active prayer can end up in such a welter of action that the "stretch" could one day shred into a thousand loose strands of frenetic, superficial activities having no center of being, no rever-ence for others, no undying future. But actually, both types of prayer can challenge and nourish the other. More active prayer is concerned with "putting it all together," with having the world make final sense, so that the world is somehow under control. More active prayer works that the praying person may "have it all together," may be totally integrated as a wholesome person, not fragmented or tormented, so that the praying person may control her or his destiny. On the other hand, more passive prayer forces the praying person to face the fact that he or she is a being totally dependent on God whom he or she must trust in the midst of personal fragmentation and of a world gone awry~ More active prayer wants the resurrection now and the beatific vision now just as they are promised in every love song; in all ~great poetry and drama, and in the apocalyptic literature of the Bible. In contrast, more passive prayer demands that the praying person wait and listen, become excruciatingly aware of shortcomings and sins within one's being or personhood, know his or her absolute powerlessness to do anything worthwhile apart from God, be content for now with much less than immediate resurrection and beatific vision. Neither prayer denies the truth of the other's intent; neither claims to have all the truth, but each challenges the other to greater realism about self, God, and the world. Each depends on the challenge of the other as more active prayer aims at total wholesomeness of self and world in God and as more passive prayer aims at enduring the fragmentation of self and dislocation of world until God heals them both~ There is, however, more than challenge between the two types of prayer. Each nourishesand promotes the other. The more active forms of prayer (e.g., the seven mentioned earlier) lead into the more passive forms of prayer, which in turn.root more deeply the ensuing more active forms of prayer. For example, meditative or mental prayer focuses the praying person's powers on particular objects such asan event of Christ's life, Mary's motherhood of the Church, the mystery of the Eucharist, God's plan for the individual or gr

Issue 36.3 of the Review for Religious, 1977. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS IS edtted by faculty members of St Lores University, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Building, 539 North Grand Boule-vard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri. Published bimonthly and copyright © 1977 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Composed, printed, and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $2.00. Subscription U.S.A. and Canada: $7.00 a year; $13.00 for two years; other countries, $8.00 a year, $15.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order payable to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Change of address requests should include former address. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Robert Williams, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor May 1977 Volume 36 Number 3 Renewals, new subscriptions, and changes of address should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGZOUS; P.O. Box 6070~ Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Correspondence with the editor and the associate editor together with manuscripts and books for review should be sent to REVIEW I~OR RELIGIOUS; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boule-yard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsyl-vania 19131. Nomadic Love Rita Bernard Walton, S.S,J. Sister Rita Bernard resides at the Corpus Christi Convent; Sumneytown Pike and Supplee Rd.; Lansdale, PA 19446. :: Fpr centuries men have responded to a voice, a formless, faceless, nameless voice, a voice that pierced the inner depths like a fiery sword saying: "Come and see" (see Jn 1:35-51). To come and see is to come into Jesus, and to respond to the call is only to hear it repeated over, again and again, to _come deeper into Jesus. It means a lifetime of coming and a lifetime of seeing as one .surprise of.love follows another:in living in Jesus. The heart hears the silent language of Jesus' love that calls for acceptance. 'The acceptance of his love entails ac-cepting all the Lover is and~ all he gives. He gives himself in sacrament, in word,, in life. He reveals himself slowly with each love-touch and fills the soul with wonder at the awesome burden with which he impregnates it. ~In this prayer of love one is. urged to stand firm, to persevere in the gift of.,love in the sense that St. Paul urged the Thessalonians to stand firm: ,"Stand firm, then, brothers, and keep the traditions that we taught y0,u, whether by word of mouth or by letter" (2 Th 2: 15). "Standing firm" is a recognition of having been chosen, loved, formed and hollowed. It is a 'recognition of one's emptiness and fullness in Christ Jesus. To "stand firm" is to accept further the responsibility to love and be loved;~to be known and to,know the God who is. "Standing firm" is to be used, used as a reed on which he plays his tune. ~ Coming deep into this love with Jesus re~uires a lea.ring behind of all ~hat ,is self and, in some way, living within the heart the life of a nomad by abandoning oneself to the purpose~ of the Lord in an emptiness of spirit-- being a nomad without a desert other than the desert of life itself. This nomad 337 338 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 life whets the appetite for the fullness of the kingdom, a life fully embraced. The nomad life is a living in joy, a living wholly in the now. This great love renders one powerless and defenseless and 'one. feels the pain of the rendering. Such powerlessness allows God to be G6d, bring-ing to the lips a prayer for an increase of faith which enkindles hope and which builds further the great fire of love. In this love-prayer, the~desire to pray and prayer itself are planted in the heart of one's being by the God of ¯ love. As the desire is nurtured, the heart of one's being grows and ~.the cycle of life in prayer develops. It is recognized as the Lord's gift. This writer invites the reader at this point to place himself or herself in the sandals of the nomad and let the following speak directl3)' td you. Come and see, Nomad. The nomad carries little. The nomadic lover carries little, too, for this lover must pass through love's gate as through the eye of the needle, free of encumbrances and the excess baggage of self-love. As nomadic lover you go through the doorway of Jesus as yourself~ as a real person. You go with Jesus' to go through Jesus into Jesus more deeply,, realizing so de.eply that Jesus is in you filling you with so much love. Loving is what living is all about. Living the love of Jesus is allowing the fruit of hislove to be'~plucked while it is ripe and rich. Following Jesus in nomadic love leads you to a still point. A still .point is a further death to self. Freed of the baggage and clutter of ~elf-will, hands are emptied to embrace the Will of the Father, the Cross of-Jesus, the Gifts of the Spirit. This still point is an intense grace of being~known, and being filled with an unknown kind of knowing God in his Oneness and Trinity of Persons. Reaching, or being brought to this still point of love is like passing through the turmoil of a storm and no longer being in .the path of its destruction, but aware of it and aware of being held at the center of calm only by his grace. It is an experience of an overwhelming sense .of quiet joy where your being sings an endless, wordless song of silent praise. Nomadic love extends you and develops all the facets of yourself, and then it changes you. You become a new self with all the old facets"refined. 'You come to a point where you hardly know yourself, and yet you do, more deeply than you did before. If the Beloved allows you to see yours.df"vfith his eyes you see a sight of beauty, surprising beauty. What you see is so grace-laden and love-filled that your heart responds again in silen(, ioyful song to the love and the Lover who has made you this way. You know that all this grace and beauty are his gift to your creature-self. It is yours to 'rejoic( in, to use and to give away~ When you return to your owns, seeing, you find you are the same, but not the same. You have been held b~y Love unaware of space and time and you somehow know that you hold a inystery~ and are held by Mystery. The nomadic lover has thus rested in th~ sweet oasis of love. ' Soon, however, the nomad is stirred from the oasis-rest .by th~ silent Nomadic Love / 339 voice the heart has come to know. "Rise, cla~p my hand, and come!" ("The Hound of Heaven," by Francis Thompson). "Yes" becomes the word on your lips and the journey continues. Now the desert stretches dry ahead and its night settles in like a winter season. The fruit and the comfort and rest of an oasis are not in sight, but the memory of them warms your heart. All is silent within and without, and the nomad must stand firm in the silence as would a silent sentinal. The treasure of love must be guarded within the heart. As nomadic lover in the desert night you know, you be-lieve~ you trust in the touchless Lover who is with you, who encircles you with his love. A nomadic lover prays: I cannot walk, my Love, I cannot walk alone. I must be led, or carried. I cannot trust myself, my own sense of direction. I must let myself be lost as it were, with no map or seeable route on this journey in faith and trust and love with You. My Love, I depend solely on You and Your guidance with no desire other than the desire to be Yours. You p!ace in shadow all that has been familiar during this journey with You. The oasi~ of Your gifts and consolaiions is lost ¯ in the darkness of this desert night in order to test my love for You alone. My~ Love, I ask for the grace of receptivity. Open me to the greatness of desiring You . for Yourself alone. ".Rise, clasp my hand, and come!" ("The Hound of Heaven"). So, once again Nomad, you hear yourself asked to "come and see" mindful you are nomad by invitation; that the journey is a gift and that you do not "stir love until its appo~inted time" (Song of Songs 2:7). Grassroots Sisters Today: Calvary People? Anawim? Marie Emmanuel, S.C. Sister Marie Emmanuel, though retired otficially, icontinues to exercise an extensive apostolate through her writings. She resides at Mount St. Joseph, OH 4505.1. No writer can speak from her heart unless wha( she says is consciously directed to a well-defined group of readers. Even a g!ance at the topic sentences of the following paragraphs, for example, would indicate that this article would "turn off" religious caught up in the urgencies' of seeking self-fulfillment, of 'being recognized as a person, of securing independence, and of embracing a life-style which has much more in common with that of a career girl or married woman than with that of the traditional religious of ten or fifteen years ago. And these same pages would probably read like something from outer space to the few fortunate religious in whose com-munities wholesome, holy religious life has somehow managed to survive experimentation. The vast majority of American sisters, however, belong to neither of these groups. They are the typical religious of our decade the thoiasands who look with aching hearts on what mistaken attempts at renewal (a renewal too often not rooted in a primary interest in the things of God!) have done and are doing to their corrimunities, and to religious life itself as they can see it. Their cause is seldom taken up by the religious press or cham-pioned by speakers; yet they are the ones who are holding the line for Christ. They know what their Lord was asking of them when he called them to their community--and they know what they gave. him on their vow day. Integrity permits them to dilute neither his divine requests nor their giving. These are the religious who must be assured that their questioning is being heard, that their Calvary is understood, and that, if they have but faith, their fears for religious life itself will be quieted by the same dear 340 Grassroots Sisters Today:~ Calvary People? Anawim? / 341 Christ who answered the frightened apostles in the tempest-tossed boat on Galilee: "O ye of little faith, why do you doubt?" Not even the hardiest can deny, of course, that hurricanes have been buffeting religious life for a decade or more, and that unprecedented winds and waves have sadly battered the bark of those who follow the evangelical counsels. There is no question here of the exaggerated fears of timid souls. Too many facts corroborate 'the ~threats, too many experiences bolster appre-hension. All one need do to be convincedis read, watch and listen. " See whathas happened in our day to the observance of poverty and obedience! And often not even chastity survives at least not envisioned as an espousal relationship with Christ, a concept which, iust a short time ago, was. generally accepted as basic to the vow. Silence no more has a place in most Interim Directives; prayer has become largely a completely personal matter, with sometimes not even the offi~ze or rosary said in com-mon; and the whole concept of community living is under attack. One does not have to be a seer to be aware that in some congregations goals, aposto- ,lares, and life-style have been so revolutionized that even the most recent of founders would be hard put to recognize their own! Administrators of certain large American communities, for example, seeing membership plummeting and the median age rapidly rising, have °already experimented with the idea of extending membership to anyone who wishes to live with the sisters, "regardless of sex, religious affiliation or marital status." In some religious houses such~ extended membership is already an accepted fact. At a meeting of formation personnel late in 1975, one young director told her audience (and was immediately quoted in metro-politan and diocesan newspapers) that her community had "already opened its doors to such .applicants, among them a married woman, a divorcee, and a woman whose husband is in Europe." These people, she assured her hearers, "share the life and home of the sisters and are regarded as mem-bers, not as guests; employees or volunteers." In order to supplement recruitment, other congregations have accepted girls who came with the avowed intention of staying just for a year or two, although canon law has stipulated that candidates may not enter on a temporary basis, that they must have the iiatention of remaining or at least the hope of determining their permanent vocation by honest trial. We hear,. too, of young religious who, though they may have entered with the inten-tion of remaining, are now reluctant to maki~ any permanent commitment and are being permitted to stay on indefinitely, despite canonical strictures, merely making temporary "promises" over and over. Yet though membership is being supplemented in such unorthodox ways, genuine religious vocations in America have dwindled to almost nothing. Vineyards entrusted to us by the Church are abandoned for works of our own choosing; conx;ents stand empty in the midst of fields white for the harvest, and the tragic exodus of professed sisters "back to the world" con- 342 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 tinues, though God knows that some motherhouses have few, except the aged, left. A further tragedy lies in the fact that those who remain tend to fall into groups so diverse in their reactions to experimentation that the attainment of consensus in basic areas becomes impossible. There are the sisters of all persuasions, liberal and conservative, who are content with the status quo as they meet it; there are the crusader.s, dissatisfied with the ."inadequacy" of experimentation as they see ,it initiated, and dedicated to revamping re-ligious life now to conform to what they consider relevant to today's world. And then there is the army of ordinary sisters down at the grassroots who have suffered shock after shock as they were subjected to innovations (allegedly designed to make them more relevant, more self-fulfilled, and more libera.ted, but which have a~:tually proven incompatible with their ideals of religious life) who are now openly seeking answers to the disturb-ing questions which haunt them. "What is going to become of religious life?" they ask in desperation akin to that of the apostles, when their small boat was. storm-tossed that night on Galilee. "Will,it someday be impossible in my community to live the life I v6wed? What will be left of religious life when all this experimen-tation is officially ended?" Before sisters consider the future of their own communities in the light of such questi0.ns, it is logical that a prognosis for religious~ life itself be attempted. Is it dying? Is it still relevant? A number of current books study the topic from various points of view, but the Vatican II Fathers .have already settled all doubts in ~this regard bY the place in the modern Church which they assigned to religious. A dying group would scarcely be commissioned, as religious were in the Constitution on the Church, to ,"stren.gthen the kingdom in soul~, and extend it to every clime." And who is relevant to our confused, anguished world if not those to whom the council, in the same document, entrusted the needy of that world? "Religious should carefully consider that through them, to believers and unbelievers alike, (he Church wishes to give an increasingly clearer revelation of Christ," decreed the Council Fathers. "Through them, Christ should be seen contemplating on the mountain, announcing God's kingdom to the multitude, healing the sick and maimed,, turning sinners to wholesome fruit, blessing children, doing good to all, and always obeying the will of the Father who sent them." There is not one .sufferer among all those who throng our streets, or whose stories are blazoned in, the daily press or pictured on TV, who does not fit into one of the categories listed by the Council as being charges of today's religious. There is no human need, spiritual or temporal, which has not been confided to our charity in our own time by Holy Mother Church herself. Therein lies our blueprint of relevance. Father Thomas iDubay, contemporary writer on living the evangelical Grassroots Sisters Today." Calvary People? Anawim? / 343 counsels, states: "The religious life belongs inseparably to the Church's life and holiness . Periodically, in the history of the Church, someone is likely to prophesy the death of religious-life. Our day is no exception. Yet so closely bound up with evangelical perfection are consecrated virginity, voluntary poverty and ecclesial obedience, that to predict the disappearance of religious life is to assert the irrelevance of the gospel. The profession of the evangelical counsels may decline, through human weaknesses, but dis-appear it willnot.''~ Yet, notwithstanding such assurances, sisters confide that try as they will to tell themsel~,es that all will be right, they cannot shut their eyes~to what is happening in many communities. "Is it unreasonable," they ask, "to wonder how I can trust, when I know how convent walls have tumbled down since the '60's, destroyed not by enemies of the Church but by con-secrated women who are .apparently casting aside the very.essentials of religious life so as to grasp the best of two vocations without assuming the responsibilities of either? How can I"even hope that I will always be a nun, when I see congregations once flourishing and fervent actually falling apart or so revolutionized as to be unrecognizable?" Of course, there are no pat answers, as there are no pat answers for other questions'which vex us today. But Peter and his companions were expert sailors, and they had seen other vessels go down in squalls on Galilee like the one they were battling. Yet Christ rebuked them that night for their lack of faith when they were apprehensive. He did not tell them how to ride out the storm, he gave them no practical directives. But he did reassure them. "Fear not!" he said. And he did calm the winds and the buffeting waves, and bring his friends Safe to.shore. Suppbse their boat had sunk in the storm. Can we doubt that our Lord would have saved his 6wn; so that they still might, become the Spirit-driven anawim who were to establish his Church? That should tell us something! And there are many other gospel stories.~which'can set our troubled hearts at rest. This is a goodtime to remember~Bethany, for example; we who are frightened by what the future may hold have Christ's own word that our "best part"-~will never be taken away from us. In,another passage he gives us his solemn assurance that he will be with us always, and that whatever we ask in.prayer will be given us;, even to" feats like moving mountains! He reminds us that we did not choose him; it was he who called us. Dare we insinuate that-he was trifling with our hearts in making that invitation on our vow day? No, the circmfistances surrounding our aposto-lates may indeed be drastically altered, but our consecration to Christ no one no one--can take from us! Right now many mature religious stand onCalvary. We try to assure ourselves, perhaps, that faith and hope demi~nd that we look forward to a 1Ecclesial Women, by Thomas Dubay, 'S.M. (New York: Alba House, 1970). 344 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 glorious Easter, when resurrection joy and peace will fill our hearts again. That Easter will come. But ~hould we begin to face the possibility that we, personally, may never see its glad dawning? Maybe our little boat won't survive this. tempest! What if our community becomes so debilitated or so revolutionized that it no longer is our.community? Do we love Christ so much that we can offer ourselves, in that event, to become his anawim, the remnant beloved by God, who will somehow continue to carry on his work in and for a world which hungers for him while it rejects him? That may well be what he is asking of us now. If this should happen and we find our 'institutes rapidly losing all re-semblance to the dream of evangelical perfection which God gave our founders and to which he called us, we can find comfort, first of all, in knowing that religious life, itself will never die. That is where faith and hope lead us today. Isn't that, perhaps, where they leave many of.us, too? Let's admit it: we, at least we sisters in America, may well be Calvary-people all our lives. But .wasn't that what our Lord was? The shadow of the Cross touched everything he looked on, and Easter came only after the final agony of the crucifixion. "Fear not.t" Our Lord is saying to us. Even though this congregation or that is shaken, religious life will always flower somewhere in the Church, and no sister will ever be dispensed ]rom perpetual vows unles~ she herselI .has chosen, in some way, to cancel her commitment to the God who loves her with an everlasting love. 'We must remember that when things look black, when maybe even our own beloved community may seem'to be racing toward disaster.~, We must hang onto the fact, too, that "retreat masters and others in a position to see and judge are finding rainbows arcing over motherhouses here and there, where experimentation has not only. been lived through but is reaping a golden harvest of renewal. True, such blessed communities doubtless still have their respective cordons of dissidents unhappy because changes haven't been radical enough, but interested now in the ordination of women, in 'political jobs~ or~ in being, vocal on controversial theological questions. Their current involvement in topics beyond the jurisdiction of their communities leaves the body of the, membership free to yield. ;to the Spirit, and to concentrate on intensive, broadly-varying spiritual programs, which one priest-director tells me are proving "an astonishing purification, a genuine spiritual renewal, and a happy return to the ideals of the foun-ders" of several communities with whom he is in contact. How heartened many grassroots sisters should be by rumors of such rainbows, which indicate that for some religious at least, the storm is over for the time and the Paschal Sun is shining! There are communities, too, which have never lost their balance, but which, despite growing pressures, have managed to adhere t,o their self-definition and to maintain the life of the counsels as their founders would Grassroots Sisters Today: Calvary People? Anawim? / 345 have it lived at present. They are the ones (believe it or not!) who are be-ing sought out by young women who want just what these communities will give them. The same retreat master I quoted before confided that one such community with which he works "is swimming with postulants and novices, bright and lively young things who enter precisely because of the habit; who are genuinely (if youthfully) in earnest about learning the spirit of their congregation and (and through) the spirit of their founder." So even if, in our corner of the world, the eclipse still leaves us groping in dark and cold, we can rejoice that somewhere the sun is shining again on happy, holy novitiates and on burgeoning religious life. We can rejoice, too, that our way of-life is a good way; despite the odds against us, we do contribute to the holiness of the Church! And it is a relevant way. Millions of people contact God today because sisters still live and work among them. So if our particular corner of the vineyard is languishing, we must simply put our hand into the hand of Christ and trust him to use us as he will. Through an ordeal.like this, our consciences should reassureus that we are not disloyal because we can foresee local debacles resulting from ill-ad-vised changes in the very basics of~religious life. As mature religious we can-not help but be aware that congregations which cut themselves free from their moorings an the Church and dispose of authority, vows, silence, community prayer and the common life with fine, dispatch, are no longer offering their members the type of life the.y vowed to follow: There is no disloyalty here. No, it is love for the life to which Christ calls us that prompts us to challenge attemis°ts at renewal which have gotten out of hand. The pro~ing questions one hears now on all 'sides should alert the powers that be to the fact that definitely all is not well. Before it is too late, those influential in community affairs throughout the country should take inventory to see wfiether religious, life, as they are manipulating it, can flourish and bear the fruit God expects. Only a prayerful, serious evaluation by those supposedly in authority can dete~rmine for any congregation whether experimentation is sanctifying its members or secularizing them, meeting the needs of their assigned apostolates or merely working toward human goals or personal self-fulfillment. That some groups will not see the necessity for such reconsideration is a sad commentary on the problem. It is good, therefore, that individual sigters are not closing their eyes to what is being done, that we at last are asking serious qui~stions and seeking honest answers. We are not discountenancing faith and hope when we admit that we think it possible that our partiqular vineyards may someday lie in ruins. Rather, our faith and hope could never be fairer .than when we watch our dear garden-places transformed into alien desert and yet hold fast to Christ, confidefit of his love, ready to take up our interrupted apos-tolat~ wherever he wants us to be and to do whatever he may send us to do, even if that is just to suffer and pray for the harvest which we may no longer have an opportunity to plant or gather in. Symbols.'. Signs. and the Times Jane Marie Kerns, S.H.C.J. Sister Jane Marie is engaged in development work. curriculum planning and public relations at Cornelia Connelly High School; 2323 W. Broadway; A~aheim, CA 92804. _~er degree is in the field of sociology. Technically speaking,' says S. R. Wilson, signs are not symbols. Signs are perceptible m~inifes~ations which point to a condition present or to come because they flow from the ultihaate reality underlying the sign. In this sense signs are revelatory because the natural objects involved are ]as in-trinsic~ illy related to the ~:eality underneath as the smell of an onion is to the onion itself. For example, hot forehe'ad, weakness, perspiration and chills signify fever. Signs, in thig sense, cross cultural barriers of language and fl~ish essentially the identical message-content to all who can read the signs. At some point in history the acctimulated wisdom of a l~eople unravels the mystery behind the sign and passes on the same m.essage from generation to generation. Thus signs are stable in content because that which we~ per-ceive bears an unalterable and peculiar relationship to the reality wtii~zh is present or coming to be. Symbols are different. They are arbitrary things which are invested with 1Sociologists, in developing the implications of symbolic interaction, have made some distinctions between sign and symbol that differ markedly from the'more traditional scholastic terminology contrasting natural and conventional signs. For example, Berger and Luckmann in The Social Construction o! Reality speak.of "detachability" as a characteristic of all signs and sign systems while symbols are any significative themes achieving maximum detachability by reason of their being located in one sphere of reality but referring to ahother. A far simpler presentation by S R. Wilson has generated a line of thought that can be applied to the contemporary religious scene with some profit for us if we are willing to follow up his line of thought"with some applications made on our own. 346 Symbols. Signs . . . and the Times / 347 a tempbrary message by consensus of the group which employs the symbol. Symbols are the shorthand which capsulizes a larger"concept, perhaps an abstract one--the cryptography which presupposes that the users share the meaning so fully'that they can afford to reduce it to a kind of code word, that beStows brevity without sacrificing richness. There need not be any necessary connection between the choice of an object to act as symbol and the content of the message.Symbols are temporary: time-bound~ timely,, tied to. context so they lose their significance or are invested with new meanings in new times. How fickle symbols can be is well exemplified'by the quirk of fate that transmuted .Churchill's gallant V-for-victory hand salute into the peace symbol of the 1960's. Signs are natural, unequivocal, independent "of time and place an~l ¯ language, Symbols are culture;bound, subject to misinterpretation by the uninitiated and to re-interpretation by succeeding in-groups, long- or short, lived depending on the consistency of the ,sub-culture that employs them. Perhaps some reflection on this distinction, between sign and symbol can shed light, on:,one of the dilemmas facingreligious today. We religious have tried abruptly 'to change our symbol ~ystem and we find often enough that We have lost our sign value in the world., of today, We changed 9ur dress to relate more easily to the world of the ~twentieth century. Removing a barrier did not automatically create a sign 6f the Lord present among us. We chose the symbol system of modern womanhood .and sometimes found ourselves comfortably bunched .in with all the other .bananas. The public we served was not interpretifag our symbolic action as we meant it to be. And we are forced to recognize that the dress we donned and the veil we doffed were only symbol--not sign, not natural,.cross,cultural., unequivocaI expression of what .is or what is to come--:-only symbol, 9nly thingg subject tO misinterpretation, 'time-bbund even for us who made the gesture of changing the symbolmand ambivalent;~ even,~ to the ~degree. that not all religious~would agree on the what. and the why of the gesture. By and large our people are complimentary 'and comfortable with our new look, yet amid a growing congeniality we. have lost some of the eschatological sign value that should be ours. Why? I, Hazarding guesses is hazardous and it is;my guess that an understanding of signs and symbols can shed some light. If we understood how 'a society creates .a symbol, if we understood how a group learns toread a sign, .per-haps we could appreciate the impact of. context on communication. Accurate identification of the "things': we use to present ourselves depends on the context in which we use them. Think of ~ome "symbols" we have adopted in the last few years: There are religious who see denim as denoting fellow-ship with the poor, But with the escalation of the denim fashion' parade, to many people denim speaks of the radical chic, the young affluent who chooses to dress down, the professional would-be college kid revolting against .white shirts and starched,collars. To many, "fellowship" with a 348 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 "groovy" bunch in.~faded cut-offs has no religious connotations whats6ever. We want to say simplicity of life-style; they hear over-age college set gone "mod." Unwittingly, there is growing up a garbled version of the Fountain of Youth myth where what we wanted to hand on was the Good News about the Fountain of Living Waters which springs up in men of faith. Our~ sym-bols aren't bad; it's just that we exist in a cultural context which colors the interpretation of symbols "due to circumstances beyond our control . " We are talking about the fact that we can't control the whole configura-tion of life that put denim (or its equivalent) into a context in which it will be understood by those who see the same symbol system used to convey a different message. We human beings acting in concert unconsciously invest symbols with meaning 6nly in context. + can mean Christianity or + can mean add it all depends on what goes with it. It's the nature of symbol to be tied to other people's mentality. Let me" push the notion of symbols-in-context a bit further. In some ways symbols are .like bumper stickers~ That is, they are "one-liners", that punch out a limited message about one aspect of a question or point of view--concise, catchy, incontrovertible as far as they go. But when we are talking about the sign value of religious in their mission of revelation, we find that we aren't able to frame the essential message and crop off all the peripheral or block out all the other things we do and are. Hence, our symbols are never seen except in a broader context of the configuration of our whole lives. Let's think a little then about configuration. Have you ever pondered the variety of countenances .the Lord has fashioned out of the simple set of major elements such as two eyes, a nose, a mouth, some small degree of color in the eyes, some minor variations-- all within the magnitude of an inch or less--in the spacing of these ele-ments, the alignment of them, and so forth? Fantastic how .little he had to work with and yet how totally unique are the billions of faces that inhabit the universe! And all ~.because the particular configuration of similar ele-ments so alters the' finished product! How marvelous is the import of the configuration in which a single pair of blue eyes is set in defining the unique profile of a German lass as opposed to a California coed! Taken separately all the major elements of their countenances could be identical. Only the final configuration gives the identity to each as a unique person. Something like that is true of our symbol systems. When we changed our bleak habit woolens for blue denim or for fashionable fabrics and styles, we also re-arranged a thousand seemingly unrelated parts of the mosaic Called life-styles. Visits to hairdressers, pierced ears, cosmetics, jewelry, stereo sets in our rooms, guitars under our arms, weekends at the beach or skiing in the mountains, ten-speeds, dining out when pressures mount, happy hours and wine-and-cheese-get-togethers--all the places we went and the things we did in our new dress. And gradually we blended with the Every Woman in tune with the times--and lost any aura of the "otherness" of Symbols . . . Signs . . . and the Times / 349 the woman in touch with the Lord. It is frustrating and confusing since there is nothing wrorig with any of the items taken separately, nothing that could not serve as a ~,ehicle for inserting the message of the Lord into the modern context. Yet, unfortunately, the gap between intentions and outcome is real, if we'dare tell it as it is. So what can we do in such a dilemma? Retreat to our pre,Vatican II existence? . How dare we even consider such a move--we who have been called by. the Lord in his Church to seek ever new ways to bring his .same truth to our age? ~ . I believe that there are several lines of action open to us. First, and perhaps the easiest to admit, we must recognize.that a private symbol sys-tem whose true message is known only to ourselves is a useless tool for communication. Hence, in our recognition ~of the public nature of the sym-bols we choose to employ, we must be attentive to the feedback from those around us, the feedback that comes in the form of spoken criticism or spoken praise, and also the feedback that comes in the form of a vacuum-- the indication that we aren't, even noticed~ This isr not so easy since it implies that if we listen and respond'just to, those who catch the message, it might be we are only speaking to our in-group. Openness to criticism and willing-ness to. vary our approach is the on13~ way that will. make our knowledge of de facto social interpretation of symbols work for the good we yearn to. do. Apropo.s., algo, is the need for a discerning spirit that can ferret out the essence of a critical remark and that has no fear to dare to be different if the difference is where, it really: counts--difference, because our fundamental orientation even in choosing fashionable clothes, and so forth, is utterly other. For the sake of the kingdom, for the sake of those around me, for the sake of my apostolic effectiveness I choose to use the things I use; for ¯ their ability to extend my vital concerns outward, not just for their ability to enhance me. From .the apostolic point of view ~vhat my symbol system says to. those around rn"e is:more important than what it"says to me as long as"it is genuine. , A second direction in which to focus our attention is on the mutability (as w~ll as .f.allibility) of any~ symbol which derives from the other mean-ings conferred on the "things" we use or do by other people whose message differs from ours. '~We can always afford to bend and 'blend and experiment with our symbol system in order to keep it 'up-to-date. Indeed, we must be alert to those circumstances beyond our control which render any system obsolete or .misleading--changing customs, .changing values in some areas of life, changing vocabulary. Even semaiatics can' cause a loss of utility in a given form of expression. Knowing' the difference between what is essential and what is merely an arbitrary, ,though well-chosen, form of expression is an art capable of infusing life ,into the means we use to contact the world around us; The art of choosing wisely, rests largely on the nature of what we.try to signify. How can we speak to men of our God who is so utterly 350 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 other? What has holiness to say to a modern world? What can communicate spirit to flesh:and-blood men of today?. As men and nations,~scramble tO get, what words speak of giving.'? And what can emptying oneself to put:.on Christ say to empty men who have lost .their own identity? When thinking men unite to feed the world's hungry because 'the survival of all ultimately depends on the wise sharing of resources, how does one say that enlightened self'interest isn't enough? For a task of this magnitude, perhaps symbol .is the wrong tool. Maybe we can't rely~on a form of "shorthand" for all that the Christian message means to us. Perhaps we have to strive; to explicate our message--impress it more fullythrough expressions revelatory, :flo~ving from the essential reality of life in Christ. Earlier we spoke of the smell of an onion as peculiar to the. reality that is the onion. Substitute perfume to the rose if you prefer, but that is just how specific our expression should be to what 'it is we're trying to communicate! Perhaps sign is called for-- natural, unequivocal, universal harbinger of 'what is or what is to come. Sin~:e whatever we do can be so easily mis-read by a generation that rarely reflects deeply, our?language" (spoken, body, symbol) must be one that is unequivocal, timelessly true, inextricably bound up with the nature of what we communicate. Our "language" must be sign of what is or what is to come. We can only hope to sign the Lord to the world if we ourselves can be the living revelation of~God present among us, actuating what we are. When we so live in the presence of God that his thoughts have become ours, his con-cerns, outs, we can hope that the vitality of his life in us will speak to"men of Someone else, just as Jesus invariably led people beyond himself to ". the~Father who sent me; the Father himself loves you. ; if you knew me you would know the Father also . . . the words I speak are not mine but the Father's; . as my F~'ther sent me so I also . ; I do always what the Father command~ . . . ; I must be about my Father'S' business~. ; I will ask the Father and he will send you the Paraclete . . . ; whatever you ask for in my name that I will do so that the Father may be glorified in the Son . , . ; the world must: be brought to know .that I love the Father. ; I call you friends because I have made known to you everything I have learned from myFather." It was when Jesus said. to his own, "I came from the Father,and have come into the world and now I leave the world to go to the ,Father," that his men replied at long last, "Now you are: speaking clearly . because of this we believe that you came from God.,." (Jn 16:28-31.). Hardly can we expect to be heard by our world tif we are less specific! Hardly do we ~dare to be so specifi!! Yet. I doubt that there is one of us who has,not in prayer thrilled to the vocation that is ours and marveled that God should choose to use us as a means of revealing and witnessing to his presence in the world. We believe--and yet . We shall never be able to offer our people more than fickle symbols until it becomes "natural" for us to perceive and Symbols . . . Signs . . . and the Times / 351 to speak of ourselves as signs that God is present and coming~ Our work for the poor may appear to be just the fad of generous adolescence or neo-humanism in action unless we are in fact coming from God and drawing our people to God. Angry activists can demand' prison reform as effectively as we and still remain atheists'. To what am I signing on the picket lines or in the classroom? Many good men grow whole from their repulsion over human suffering. Ft. George Aschenbrenner, in his article, "Hidden in Jesus Before the Father" (REviEW FOR RELIGIOUS, Jan., i975), spoke of the healing ministry of Jesus as springing from his vision of the holiness of God. So, too, for us philanthropy is not enough, It is significant that a woman of~ our times renown for her ministry of healing has had her story told to the world under the title, Something Beauti[ul for God. Mother Theresa undoubtedly comes to her poor as one sent ~by God to lead them on to him. Her meaning is unequivocal, its con-tent crosses language barriers and surmounts limitations of time and place. She is indeed a signto all of.the presence of God in his creation. But how was she different? She adapted the dress and the practices of religious life to the customs of India; so have we striven to meet America in the twentieth century. What more is there to it? . ' Perhaps it isosomehow or other connected with her approach to the first major work that .she undertook: her concern for the dying, the terminally ill; the cases that most of the hospitals there would not accept today be-cause there is nothing-that can be gained from medical treatment, there is no hope of recovery: . . . There is an element in her preoccupation with the dying that shouts aloud that dying is not the end, that even a dying man is worthy of respect and love and concern. Hers was an attitude-in-action which pointed a reality present in he~r and pre~sent in her world of the dying that could only mean that death~was not what it seemed to be to the masses who passed by the dying beggar in the streets. The reality alive in the center of her being revealed itself in act and attitude peculiar to those who know the God and Father of Jesus Christ. She was indeed a sign of God present in his world. Mother Theresa shows~us that it is possibleto be a sign in the world. What she stands,.for speaks internationally of humanity's ability, to stand 'before the experience of the Holy. Even more exciting, what she is and has become for our age is the revelation~that a person~who is sign doesn't sim-ply point out statically something that has .happened to her or him but rather that such a sign enables the beholder to experience the Holy for him'- self. It not only'allows man to~'think about God, but it activates an en-counter between God ands.the beholder. Our interpretation of the sign be-comes experiential, not simply intuitional or cognitive. I believe that the authentic Christian witness offered by Mother Theresa and her co-workers demonstrates, by the grace of God, the essential ele-ments of signs in an eminent degree. The grace which incorporates one into 352 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 the very life of Jesus enables a human life to be a natural revelation of the supernatural reality that is present and coming: Man's. experience of the Holy as it radiates through, the person and personality of another chal-lenges with the unequivocal demand to "take off your shoes" in ~ome fashion. The call to respond is universal, that is, it °cries out to hearts of men of every tongue, time or religious .traditi0n---assuming their hearts have been initiated into the mystery of God. And there is nothing in the configura-tion of his life~style to confuse or to cloud or to bury the sign under a bushel basket. ': We know that the same grace of God confers p6tential sign value on us all, even beyond the extent.to which we surrender to its gentle usurpation of our natural self. We may need to study our lives to perceive the dynamic of their configuration. We can scrutinize what we do with our time,, what we talk about, what we expend our energies on, what delights us, what we do with our free time, what .people we interact With most often--~and why. What do people ,bring to us as topics of conversation and as cause for concern? Not just what are the ice-breakers, but what are~ the substantive issues? Or .are there any substantive issues?,, Is it just fashion~talk, hair styles, and where are the best sales, what restaurants do we like, what about the latest recording artists, what team will win the World Series, what shows are worth seeing, what books are topping the Best Sellers lists? As well.educated women and well-rounded persons, we ought to be capable and to be intrigued .by exploring all facets of the contemporary scene.Yet there is incumbent upon us always the urgency of the prophet: A voice commands: Cry! and 1 answered, "What shall I cry?. Shout with a loud voice, joyful messenger . Shout without fear, "Here is your God." (Is 40:6-9) If we spend a day without ever mentioning our God to our world; if we: converse wisely about everything else but not about the Cent6r of our lives; if for a day, and days and a day, we apply psychology and economics and political :science and medicine and pedagogy in the. healing of hearts and the enabling of those striving to break out of bondage of any sort, it well may be that we present ourselves as professional personswho can live without any practical application of our religious profession. Then it is un-derstandable that the totality of the configuration of our daily lives obscures the sign and justifies our world's propensity for reading us according to the symbol system in vogue where we are. Our anomaly gtems not from our doing anything wrong and not from our not doing anything .at all, but just from the fact that our peculiar blend of actions~and attitudes islso familiar to our people that we fail to communicate the otherness of God. ~Where Jesus is the song sung softly all day long in the hearts of his own who are called to witness to him in this day and age, the most appropriate Symbols . . . Signs .,°and the~ Times / 353 exhortation might be "Preach what you practice." In terms of this article that could be translated to mean, "Find the ways--the signs, the symbols, the. emphases in the particular blend of attitudes and activities that are our life--(to say we come) from an inner experience of the God who is present and who continuously is coming." In this sign surely we shall conquer! NoW Available, As: A Reprint,, Colloquy of God with a Soul That Truly Seeks Him ,Address: Price: ~;.30 per opy,~ 161us post~ige.' Review for Religious 612 Humboldt Building 539 North Grand '~ St. Louis, Missouri 63103 Reflections on Vowed Living1 Claire Brissette, S,S.Ch. Sister Claire. a graduate of the Center for the Study of Spirituality at the Institute of Man, Duquesne University, is engaged in ongoing formation work in her province, working with sisters primarily at the local community level. She resides at 297 Arnold St.; Wrentham. MA 02093. More than a decade ago, the Church, speaking officially through the Vatican Council, invited and challenged religious throughout the world to re-evaluate their institutional structures and to re-examine their~ lives in light of gospel values and the spirit of their founders. For most congregations and most religious men and women, the spiri~t of Vatican II soon became crystallized in the phrase "renew and°adapt." During the years immediately following the council, we opened the windows of our lives and hearts to let in the fresh air and warm sunshine of renewal chapters', of .'revised Acts of the Chapter, of experiments in life-style~ community living, apostolate and forms of prayer. We questioned the structures and values of religious liv-- ing all in a sincer~ effort to ~:espond to the dictates of Vatican II. Through- 1This article is an integration of personal reflections from various sources. In listing these sources, it is difficult to distinguish Where their thought ends and where mine-begins. I wish to acknowledge my gratitude to each of these authors and speakers for their insight which fias stimulated my own integrative reflection. Besides the publica-t'ions listed in the bibliography, the following workshops have also influenced the con-tents of this article: "The Life of the Counsels" given by Thomas Walsh, S.J. and ~Bernadette Casey, R.S.M. at the Diocesan Spiritual Life Center in Pawtucket, RI on Feb. 28-29, 1976; "Fashioning the Future,of Vowed Commitment" a ten day workshop given at Mt. Augustine, Staten Island, NY, during which nine nationally known speak-ers, m turn, provided input on a specific vow. Appreciation also goes to Susah Muto, Assistant Director of the Institute of Man,, Duquesne University, Pittsburgh, for her helpful suggestions regarding the final draft, Of th~is a~rt!cle. 354 Reflections on 'Vowed Living / 355 Out this period of painful searching, we sought to discover the Spirit of the Lord guiding us through the confusion and turmoil of the~renewal. In more recent years, as~the initial turmoil has begun to subside, we have found ourselves facing and grappling with one of the deeper issues of the renewal, the meaning of our vows. Because of the :legalism that charac-terized our pre-Vatican II way of life, the meaning and living out of our. v6ws was often limited to external structures and rules. As many of these were put aside, and greater emphasis was placed on personal fulfillment and community living, poverty, celibacy and obedienc( seemed to fade into the background. We were no longer certain of (heir meaning_nor of their relevance forpost-Vatican religious life:' As we begin to take a new look at the meaning of our vowed consecration, the living of our vows is gradually emerging as the concrete expression of a personal love relationship with the Lord. In reflecting upon vowed living, 1 would like to elaborate upon the meaning of our love relationship with God, as well as on the meaning of each vow in light' of this love. Vowed Living: A Relationship of Love: A clue to the inner attitude of love which lies at the heart of our vowed living, may be found in the book of the Prophet Jeremiah:Experiencing an inner crisis, Jeremiah speaks of God rather boldly and directly, as he says, "You have seduced me, Yahweh, and I have let myself be seduced; you have overpowered me: you were the stronger" (Jr 20::7). Perhaps oi, too, living a way of life that seems absurd to our superficial world, .can address these same words to God. I can look back into my life, and perhaps remem-ber the moment I was seduced by God, the moment I felt the closeness of his presence and love in my' life, and with my whole being,, responded '~yes" to his invitation of loveTIt was a total "yes," one that would plunge me .deeply into ~n intimate sharing in the mystery of the death and resurrection of Jesus, pone that would demand a constantly renewed surrender Of my whole self to his hidden designs upon my life. T0,seduce and to be seduced implies a love so deep and,~so strong that it enables lovers,to move beyond the externals of looks and ways, to touch one another's hearts. In thecase of God and,myself, a human creature, I have been ocaugh~up in the' infinite love of a God for me, and.,of my total love for my God. For some mysterious reason beyond my .limited compre-hension, God has fallen in love with me; I, in turn, have responded to his love. Our love for one another is not passing or temporary. Nor is it a senti-mental love. Rather, it is a love that has been sealed in the total consecrar tion of my entire being to him. It is a love that has changed radically the ¢ '-'For a more complete and di~tailed reflection on the love-relationship aspect of the vows, see Ladislas M. Orsy, Open to the Spikit (Washington. DC: Corpus Publica-tions, 1968), pp. 71-163. 356 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 course of my life, a love so powerful that I, a human creature, have allowed myself to be seduced by a God who is Spirit. "You have overpowered me: you were the stronger." At the moment of my "yes" to God, I experienced the overwhelming reality rOf his love_for me. Caught up in the experience of such a love, I could respond only with love, accepting to follow him wherever he would lead me. In my enthusiasm, perhaps it seemed to me then that just about anything was possible:. For, in my weakness, he would be my strength. In moments of darkness, he would light 'the way. In the experience of my powerlessness, l~e,would sus-tain me with his~power. Iri moments of ,aloneness, he would be .present in the silent depths of my heart. Confident of his love for me, and relying on his strength and power, I could say "yes" to a way of life that seemed some-what out of the-ordinary. Many years, perhaps; have passed.since the d~y of my love-filled "yes" to my Lord. Since that day, I have tasted the joys of my yes, as wel! as its sorrows and disappointments. I have also felt the weight of the cross, as well as the new and deeper life that has emerged from its pain. At times, also, I have perhaps doubted my Lord, for he seemed absent when I needed him most. And my flame of faith and love seemed on the verge of being extinguished. Through the persons who have entered my life, as well as through the various situations and events that have constituted my sacred journey with my Lord, my love has been tried and tested.In his love for me, my God~ has attempted to deepen and mellow my Iove~ for him. Each day, he continues to .purify my love, to shape and mold me, making me ever more precious in his. sight. Have I let myself surrender to his mysteri-ous ways of love in my life? As I reflect upon my love-relationship with my Lord, I need to realiz6 that as a human person, I am flesh and blood, limited by time and space as well as by my very nature. I can live out this love relationship only in a way that is possible for me, given who I am as a person, and~the concrete situation in which my Lord h~is placed me. He has probed me and has known me even before I.was knit in my mother's womb (see Ps 139). He knows better than I do what are my limits and abilities.,His love demands no more than what is possible for the human person I am. He is well aware that I cannot deny my human nature or my human needs. I can only tran-scend my needs in and through the experience.of his love for me and of mine for him. I also need to keep in mind that my love relationship with God, sealed on the day of .my religious consecration, deepens and,mellows over a life-time; as does the love of a married couple. I need to respect the present level of my relationship with him; while remain, ing open each day to concrete possibilities for deepening that love. Within the context of this love relationship between my Lord and me, it becomes possible to reflect on the lived meaning of our vows. For, if we consider vowed living only on the human level, we risk becoming enmeshed Relqections. on Vowed Living / 357 in such thinking as "My human needs are repressed." Or, "Human fulfill-ment is impossible." Or again~ "This way: of life doesn't make sense?' No, it doesn't make any sense at all, if we limit our vowed living to the nar-rowness of human logic and understanding. For God's ways are not ours, and what seems wise in the eyes of men is foolishness to God. Consequently, I need to take the leap of faith into the horizon of my love relationship with my Lord in order to grasp something of the spiritual meaning of vowed living. Consecrated Celibacy:' During a recent hospitalization, I was, to some extent, an "object of curiosity" for my roommate. She questioned me at length about my~life-style and work. But what puzzled her most was my celibate commitment: She .seemed unable to grasp why any+ne would want to make stich a com-mitment. "Whatever made you do it? .How can you live that way?" she often asked; For her, a celibate way of, life seemed .almost unthinkable. And yet, before she left the hospital, she very spontaneously admitted that she had grown to feel comfortable with me, remarking that I was "OK." The attitude of my new-found friend regarding celibacy reflects the thinking of a culture which extols sexual pleasure andgratification. We need only.listen to TV commercials, look at paperback racks in the local book-stores, or glance through the newspaper movie listings to become aware of the sexual orientation of our culture, Or, we need only listdn to teenagers speak of sexuality to realize that sexual morality has changed drastically in recent years. Within this cultural context, celibacy is frowned upon and looked down upon as an impossible and repressive way of life because for many, sexual pleasure and gratification have, to some extent, taken on an absolute character. Sexuality and sexual pleasure in themselves are sacred values, willed .by God from the time of creation. Simply.sacrificing these values in. and for itself for no deeper value, does indeed lead to a repressive way of life. How-ever, viewed within the context of one's personal love-relationship with God, celibate living'takes on deeper meaning and dynamism. As my Lord becomes central in my life, he becomes the hidden trea-sure and the pearl of great price for whom I am willing to give. my whole life, all that I 'am and all that I have. As Paul tells us: aln The Vowed Li/e, va~ Kaam maintains that the attitudes of celibacy, poverty and obedience comprise the fundamental threefoldO path of human and spiritual unfolding. He sees these human attitudes already foreshadowed in the highest forms of animal life. All human persons, regardless of their life form, are called to live out these attitudes according to the specific demands of their concrete life situation. Vowed relig!ous, he says, are called to be living witnesses for the threefold path of self-unfolding. They profess to find the beginning and end of this threefold presence in Gdd. See Adrian van Kaam~ The Vowed Life (Denville, NJ: Dimension Books, 1968), pp: 11-74. 35'8 / Review Jor Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 Those things I used to consider gain, I "liave now reappraised as loss in the light: of the surpassing knpwledge of my Lord Jesus Christ. For his sake, I have forfeited everything; I have accounted all els~ rubbish so that Christ may be'my wealth and 1 may bein him" (Ph 3:7-9). To us, who ifi recent years; have placed much emphasis on human develop-ment and on the person, these words sound strong and absolute, demand-ing and without compromise. They may even turn us off. Yet, the challenge of the gospel, of Christianiiy, of vowed living is that over a lifetime, Christ become so central in my life, so real for me, that my human life and human values take their rightful place in light of him. Thus, the human value of the pleasure of a needy self-centered love is transcended by my total love for my Lord. He becomes the.companion of.,.my life, him in whom I live and 'move and have my being. In the exp.erience of his love, I grow in love for the human person that I am, a person with human potential and short-comings; a person entrusted with talents that I am called to own as mine and use for his love; a per~son graced with the loving presence of Father, Son and Sl~irit through the'.:gift ef baptism; a person so much in love with my Lord, that I too can willingly boast of my weaknesses, for I know and believe that his power is living and active within me (see 2 Co 12:9). Within the experience 9f God's personal love for me, I grow in self-love and self-acceptance. At the same time, I grow in respect and accept-ance of other~, the sisters I live with, the. persons I work with, those who enter into my life each day-s-loving them as they are, and allowing them to be who they are, different from me. Gradually, over a life-time, his love for me and mine for him free.;me, to some extent, from the subtle manipula-tion of using 'others for my"self-interests, or of trying to make others into my own image, and likeness. My love relationship with my Lord opens me gradually to the beauty of the other lying beneath the surface of appear-ances and behavior. In his love, I learn to transcend my own needs,"and begin to let go of my narrow labeling tendencies so as to allow the other to unfold as the unique person he or she is. Thus my celibate love fosters life within myself as well as within others. My love relationship with Christ makes me aware of his love .for others also. I do not seek to cling in a needy way to others, for ultimately, they, too, belong to God. Rather, rooted in his loxie, my love for others calls forth what is best in them. Celibate love cannot beqived in a vacuum. The deep and real sacrifice of the human love of marr!age and of a family must not turn me in on myself in a sterile, self-centered way. Rather, my capacity for love and inti-macy must gradually blossom forth in a deepening of my love for God, in the warmth and intimacy of human friendship, in the tenderness,of a love that moves outward to those with whom I live, and reaches out daily to those persons the Eoi-d allows to enter into my life, my co-workers, my stu-dents, patients or clients. R~ither than repress my human capacity for love, then, celibate love, vowed fc~r the sake of the deeper love of my Lord, frees Reflections on Vowed Living / 359 me .to spread his love warmly, tenderly, and generously, simply by being who I am and living what I am--a celibate lover/ ~ Furthermore, because I am human flesh and blood with needs, desires and passions, I may experience, at various periods in my life, and'with varying intensity, the overwhelming need for sensual satisfaction and gratifi- ¯ cation. At other times, I may experience the deep suffering of human alone-ness and of loneliness. To deny or repress any of these feelings leads only to deeper pain and suffering. Rather, I need to face my feelings, own them as .mine, and 'realize that they too are part of my being human. During .these, painful mon~ents, a living faith in my Lord's love for me, often concretized' in the love and concern of a supportive community or of a friend, may be the only means of transcending my suffering. Each encounter with my hu-~ man poverty and vulnerability becomes a renewed opportunity for strength-ening my love for my Lord as well as for other persons he places on my path to comfort and support ~me. Gradually, over a life-time, I learn to turn to him, relying on his strength and his power, aware that "when I am powerless it is then that I am strong" (2 Co 12: 10). Poverty.~ A sister friend of mine~recently graduated from college. Shortly before graduation, as she and her classmates were busily writing r6sum6s and look-ing into various job opportunities, she was approached by Rome of her friends. "What happens to your salary? Do you get.to keep the money you make?" ~ They - seemed somewhat puzzled as Sister explained to them that she turned her salary in to the community. "You mean ,you can't keep what you earn?" they replied with a kind of disbelief. Their attitude is characteris-tic of another trend within our culture. For many Americans, material wealth and possessions h~ve become important status symbols. We need only listen to various individuals speak of wanting a higher salary, of moving into a larger, more impressive home, or of buying a more expensive car, to realize that personal identity and prestige are often dependent upon one's income bracket. Everyone, rich and poor alike, is engaged in the struggle for survival, for more money and more possessions~ Part of the American dream consists in the belief that if.'one, earns enough money and. eventually works his way to the top, he will be blessed with perfect h.apptness. For many contempor~try Ameri-cans, acquiring wealth and~ possessions has become an ultimate value. 4Hinnebusch describes love as f611ows: "To Io~,e is to go out of myself as the center of interest, and to make'.the loved one the focus of attention." Paul Hinnebusch, Corn- " munity in the Lord (Notre Dame, IN: Ave Maria Press, 1975), p. 23.~This is the kind of self-giving attitude fostered by g~nuine celibate love. ¯ ~For a more extensive development of poverty as total dependences on God, see Johannes B. Metz, Poverty o[ Spirit, trans. John Drury (Paramtis, NJ: Paulist Press, 1968). 360 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 Within this competitive materialistic culture, men and women religious vow to live poverty--not for its own sake, for poverty in and for itself is not a value to be encouraged. Rather, religious poverty becomes meaning-ful only in and through one's personal love relationship with the Lord. As I grow in the ispiritual attitude of vowed poverty, I become increasingly aware that God's love for me is so deep and so complete that he emptied himself totally'~of his equality with God, and took the form of a slave, be-coming one ofous, subjecting himself to the limitations of the human, condi-tion (see Ph 2:5-11). Once again, I find myself caught up in the mystery of my Lord's love, a love that has seduced and captured me. Only if I am truly in love with my God, rich in him, can I, in turn, gradually empty my-self of myself ~nd of material possessions. As my love relationship with him becomes central in my life, the human value of possession becomes subordi-nated to this: love, and takes its rightful place in my life. In the strength of his love, I am able .to let go, gradually, of my possessive attitude, no longer al-lowing myself to cling possessively to things such as clothing, money, food, the latest fad, machines, the community car, my own ideas, opinions, views, and.more. I recognize the need for possessions: for money, clothing, food, machines, as my friend recognized the need to earn a salary. Likewise, I recognize the need to have certain ideas, views, and opinions. But because I care so much for God, I care also for this world--for our world. Our love for one another frees me to use.things respectfully rather than possessively, with the detached attitude that allows things to be as they are, rather than with the grasping, and clinging attitude of hoarding, or of the' stubborn attitude that "my way is the right one.'''~ As my love for my Lord grows, I gradually learn to see myself in my rightful place as a.limited human creature. Through the eyes of a living~ faith, I begin to realize that my views, my opinions, my ways of doing things may be good and right for me, but remain relative for other members of the community as well as for those with whom I work. As iI become rich in the one thing necessary, the love of my Lord, the self-emptying of poverty helps me to transcend my need to totalize and absolutize. In light of my Lord's living and active presence in the cultural-historical situation of the world, I ~radually begin to distance myself from my views, values and ma-terial possessions. They are important to me at this time in my life, but they also are relative, even for myself. For if I remain flexibly open to the un, folding of my life situation, the values, principles and opinions that seem absolute for me today may be less important to me in a few years. For ex-ample, perhaps a few years ago, I was on the "band wagon~' for total, open-ness in community. At the time, openness seemed to be ~an ultimate value for community living, With time and experience, I may have come to see that openness is indeed important, but every member of the community is '~van Kaam, The Vowed Li]e, pp. 176-186. Reflections on Vowed Living / 361 not capable of the same level of openness. Consequently, the value of open-ness which at one time seemed ultimate for me, has become modified by the emergence-for-me of the deeper value of respect for the other. Through a continual self-emptying attitude, I gradually learn to let go of my opinions and views in order to become more open to the Spirit of my Lord as he expresses himself through the differing values and opinions of others, as well as through the unfolding of history. My love for my Lord enables me to learn to flow with life, expecting little, and accepting whatever comes, as it comes, rather than rigidly and possessively trying to control my" life. For, in love, I gradually come to realize that ultimately, I do not control my life; it i.s in the hands of a Father-God who loves me dearly and cares for me tenderly. Furthermore, the self-emptying of poverty viewed within the context of love, may prompt me to give myself' away through giving my time, through allowing persons and their needs'to take priority over things. In an individualistic culture .in which my life is often run by a time-clock, per-haps I have lost the art of sharing my time with others, of giving my time away for the sake of others. In silent reflection before my Lord, I gradu-ally discover how much of my time I can realistically give away, for the demands of my own life make it impossible for me to be totally available to others. While the self-emptying of poverty may at times demand that I give myself selflessly to others, this same self-emptying may at other times .require that I refuse a request, because of my personal obligations or simply because I need the time to restore myself both physically and mentally. The essence of the spirit of poverty is. that~I grow gradually into the lived realization that my life is in the hands of my Lord. In love, he .has created me. In love, he continues each day to sustain me. My love for him in turn, prompts me to empty myself of myself and slowly to detach myself from material possessions in order to create the inner space in which I may become ever more sensitive and responsive to the whispers of. his love in my daily life. The pain of self-denial and of daily dying to my self-centeredness is very real, and at times, may be overwhelming. At such moments, I need to remind myself that my Lord'~ love for me led him to the cross, the ulti-mate experience of detachment .and of self-emptying:Just as his love for his Father and for me enabled him to transcend his natural repugnance for suf-fering,? so too, my love forhim strengthens me to follow my Lord along the way of the cross, that through the pain of self-emptying, I may be glorified by an ever deeper share in his life (see Ph 2:5-11 ). Obedience A further reflection on our contemporary culture leads us to realize that the value of power, also, is highly esteemed. All of us, at some time or another, fantasize having some kind of power. Perhaps during my school years, I dreamed of being class president or president of the student council. 362 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 Or perhaps during my early years in religious life, 1 dreamed of one day being house assistant or local superior. Or;again, since ~those structures of-ten no .longer exist, perhaps my dreams are now directed toward being school principal, or head nurse, ot an influential member of tt]e parish team. What-ever my fantasy or my dream, chances are that some aspect of it is related to my drive for power. ,. Often implicit in this climb to the top of the social ladder is having power,over other human ~.persons, as well ashaving the power to make im-portant decisions. In fact, our world civilization seems to be based on a power struggle between the free world and communism. ., This power stru(:ture has .implications for ~the life of every human per-son: we often feel overpowered by technology, by the intricacies of big government and big business, by large ,agencies :that seem to control some facet of our lives, and before which we feel helpless. In turn, each of us to some degree seeks to react against, these overwhelming powers by asserting our own power within.:our small domain, be it in our limited ability to say "yes" or ,no" to issues pertaining to our personal life and work. Power in itself is to be valued, for without some degree of power, I ab-dicate the gift of my :human freedom, as well as human responsibility. How- ~everi power becomes detrimental when other human persons become ob-jects of my . personal project and desires. Then my power infringes upon their human freedom, and can become a destructive force. When this hap-pens, power, becofiaes an ultimate value for me, one by which I hope to gain some prestige and security, thereby repressing my own inner insecurity. '~ Religious men and women who vow obedience within our power-oriented world are reminders that human power, like the values of pleasure and possession, is not an ultimate value; that in light of my personal love relationship with my Lord, power is relative. For to be seduced by God means that ! allow him to have power over me. It implies that I grow in my ability to become attentive to his will, and become increasingly sensitive to his demands and desires. Our' love relationship assures me of his con-stant care and concern for me, In the security of his love, I discover the space to grow in the awareness that what he asks of me through the 'persons, events and situationg that enter into my life each day, is the concretization of his will for me at this time in my life,r Just as he speaks to me through~these realities that exist outsid ,myself, so too, he speaks through the reality that I myself am. His presence can be discovered in and through my possibilities and my limits, my desires and ¯ ambitions, my physical and emotional strengths and weaknesses. All that ¯ I am is my Lord's gift to me, a gift through which he speaks his word. Paul tells us that our deepest self is hidden in Christ, Part of our 10ve-re- ':For a further development of obedience as listening, refer to van Kaam, The VoCved LiIe; pp.'q57-169. '- Reflections on Vowed l,iving / 363 lationship then, demands that I be true to that deephst self, created in the image and likeness of .my Lord himself. To obey my deepest self, to submit myself to other persons, to events and situations demands a love so strong, that I am willing to empty myself of my desire, for total power over my own life, to accept in loving faith, that my Lord does indeed reveal himself through other creatures. In such a love, I can'.gradually loosen my grip on my own life, and slowly begin to listen more openly to persons, events, situations, both within my community and within the culture, as messengers of his divine will for me. In this loving openness, I am gradually freed from a slavish attachment to my feelings, my views, my opinions, my ideas, because I allow myself to be enriched by those of others. Recognizing the presence of my Lord in and through persons and events outside myself is difficult and challenging. For unconsciously, I tend to be-lieve that I know what is best for me. I tend to believe that what 1 know to be best for me is the concrete expression of the Lord's will in my life. How can otherpersons, each limited as I am, reveal to me anything of God's will? Such thoughts gradually close me in on my own thinking, my own ideas and opinions, somewhat like a snail closed-in in its shell. Uncon-sciously, I make myself like God, giving myself ultimate power over my life. Only in love can I gradually transcend my self-centered God-like atti-tude, and slowly begin to recognize my Lord's will for me as expressed in and through all of creation persons, events, situations.and things. In love, I discover the strehgth to die daily to my own will, in order to allbw my Lord's will to live and to be express~ed in and th.rough the limited human person that I am. Thus, every person who enters into my life, as well as everything that happens in my life becomes an integral part of my~ personal sacred history with my Lord. Conclusion ¯ A~' I reflect upon vowed living within the context of my personal love relationship with God, I can begin to see my vows as gifts which invite me to a continual deepening of this love relationship. For no longer is God a distant Spirit imposing upon me the obligations of the vows; rather, He be-comes Someone for me, someone real and personal inviting me to an ever ,deeper intimacy with °him through the sacred bond of my vows. As this intimacY deepens, I grow in the awareness of my need for him. I cannot live my vows on my own strength; I need to rely on his power. Paul tells us that "We possess this treasure in earthen vessels, to make it clear that its surpassing power comes from God and not from us" (2 Co 4:7). In hu-man terms, my vowed life makes no sensi~; it is foolishness in the eyes of men. Moreover, on the human levd alone, ].am unable to live such a way of life. It is delicate, fragile and vulnerable; ever exposed to the opposition of my own human nature and of controversial forces in our world. 364 / Review ]or Religious, I/olume 36, 1977/3 Living my vows becomes possible only through the centrality of my per: sonal love relationship with my Lord. In that love, I am graced with the strengtl~ and power, to re~spond to his constant invitation to enter into the self-emptying process. Our Lord is a jealous God who wants to possess me totally. He promises in return, to fill my emptiness with his loving presence. Each call to self-emptying is an invitation to die to some aspect of my old ~self; my needy self, constantly in search of the security of human power, pleasure and possession. However, this death is but a means of leading me to a life of deeper intimacy with him. It is a death c.alling me constantly to the new and deeper freedom of love. Each day of my life, he seduces me, calling me t6 a.morb personal" rela-tionship with him. Each day of my life, I must allow myself to be seduced-- to give him love for love, relying on his strength and his power. This call is a daily challenge, the challenge of living my "yes" to him. Am I willing to follow him all the way; ever open to i:laily situations as so many con-crete opportunities .for deepening my love through consecrated celibate .love, through self-emptying poverty and through freeing obedience? Now Available As A Reprint, ¯ Prayer of Personal Reminiscence: Sharing One's Memories with Christ by David J. Hassel, S.J. Address: Price: $.60 per copy, plus postage. Review for Religious 612 Humboldt Building 539 North Grand St. Louis, Missouri 63103 Toward Further Self-Definition William F, Hogan, C.S~C. Father Hogan is an Assistant General and General Procurator of his congregation'. His last article in these pages, "Communily Reconsidered," appeared in the September; 1976 issue. He resides Via Framura, 85; 00168 Roma, Italy. In' Per]ectae Caritatis the Fathers of Vatican II told us that it serves the best interests of the (~hur~h for religious institutes to have their own special character.and purpose. Thus, the spirit of founders and all the particular goals and traditions that constitute the patrimony of each religious institute should be recognized and safeguarded (See 'PC 2,,b). This statement oc-casioned a flurry of activity in some religious communities to start research-ing their traditions to ,.confirm again the self-definition of each community, and to stir up interest in the spirit of their founders. In many instances this activity has bo~ne fruit in that the religious have been put more'clearly in touch with their particular roots and have slowly effected,some changes of direction in their life and apostolic stance. In other institutes, the spurt of renewed interest subsided almost as fast as it. began, especially in those congregations in which nothing particularly unique seemed to stand out. The call to discover the uniqueness of one's heritage is being reasserte~i in the proposed new text of the law for instittitesof the consecrated,life; for those who have framed the proposed text have taken very seriously the mandate of Vatican II about' preserving,the patrimony of each religious in-stitute. Instead of drawing up legislation to cove'r all the points on religious life in a uniform way, as th( present law in. good part does, they are pro-posing general principles of Jaw within which each institute is to draw up its particular norms in accordance with its own traditions. By taking such a direction, the new law, if it be approved,, will be inviting and requiring of religious greater efforts at community self-understanding and self-definition. In order to meet this demand, it will be necessary for members of religious 365 366 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 institutes, and in particular members of general chapters, to develop a re-fined awareness of the founder's charism, the continuing charisms of the congregation as expressed into traditions and in its spiritual and apostolic heritage, a clear sense of where the institute has been in the past, where it is in the present and where the legacy of the founder and the traditions of the community are pointing for the future. That there is still a widespread need for further self-understanding and self-definition is becoming apparent from the various interim constitutions and position papers of religious institutes. Prior to the decree on renewal of religious life (Ecclesiae sanctae, August 6, 1966) and the directive to revise constitutions, the legislation of religious institutes had a remarkable sameness because constitutions had to conform to the ~Norms of 1901 and the subsequent rules of the Sacred Congregation, promulgated in 1921, which, had to be followed in seeking approbation for the texts of new constitutions. Today a new similarity is emerging, although it bears little resemblance to the primarily legal approach of the pre-sixties. The present-day "sameness of texts" appears to be rooted~in the fact that religious in-stitutes have followed the" lead of the council and gone back to the gospel roots of religious !ife, t0_us considering it as flowing out of the baptismal commitment. As -a result of this important emphasis on religious life in the context of the gospei and of bap~tism, underscoring, as it does, the.thorough-ly Christian nature of religious life, frequently the same scriptural and conciliar texts are cited. And in the process of situating the religious insti-tute in its proper ecclesial and Christian context,.little, or at least, insufficient stress,,~.is placed 6n those particular ways in which the founder wished to emphasize the gospel message and on those facets of. the Christ-life revealed through the Spirit's activity in his or her life and mission. Generally speak-ing, all religious have~'been very conscious of the need to express religious life in terms of a broad ecclesial vision and to avoid any instances of the exaggerated c~ngregationai emphasis~that may have closed them in on them-selves in the past. But in meeting, this issue, they may be.losing sight of that part of their contribution to the life of the Church which consists in positively developing their particular heritage. There is ~no reason why there cannot be harmony and balance between .the ecclesial and the peculiarly congregational elements, and thus a clearer understanding of the role of a particular .religious institute in the Church. For some religious institutes it may be rather difficult to grasp the unique-ness of their heritage, especially if they have been founded since the 1800's, when many congregations came to birth under the ~inspiration of. the Spirit ¯ to meet particular needs in some specific geographic area, and have pat-terned themselves on-other, already existi.ng congregations. But even in such instances, there.may well exist a uniqueness of insight and emphasis fr6m the founder, the early members and the riches that have accumulated~from the various religious over the years--spiritual, intellectual, apostolic riches that Toward Further Sel[-Definition / 367 constitute the legacy, of the congregation. It is these factors that will have to be borne in mind in delineating the norms of law for the congregation' today, and that will yiel'd the necessary self-understanding of the religious institute. Religiou,s today often have recalled in liturgies or at congregational gatherings concerned with community and plurality the celebrated text from the_ first epistle to the Corinthians: There are different gifts but the same Spirit: there are different °ministries but the same Lord; there are different works but the same God who accomplishes all of them in everyone. To each person the manifestation of the Spirit is given , ~ for the common good . . . (I Co 12:4ff,). And similarly from Ephesians: ~And his gifts were that some should be apogtles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers in roles of service for the faithful to build up, the body of Christ. till we become one in faith and in the knowl-edge of God's Son, and form that perfect man who is Christ come to lull stature (Ep 4:11-13). The't~exts in themselves obviously speak of individual gifts of the Spirit to the Church; but in the modern context they can well'remind us of the diversity of gifts and charisms within the categories of the traditional gifts in the Church. If religious life itself is a gift of the Spirit to the Church, as the Church teaches, then even more precisely is the religious life of a particular institute a special gift of the Spirit to the Church for the building up of the Church. And the religious of the institute should seek to fathom the gift in all its particular aspects. The° gifts of diverse religious institutes to the Church reflect the many-faceted splendor of the Father's love for his peo-ple. Our response to that love should reflect the facets of that love as these are particularized in our institutes and their heritage.- To continue to reflect on and search out the heritage'of a religious in-stitute demands the continued expenditure of psychological energy. Yet many religious are tired of devoting their energies~this way, especially in view of the crying needs of mankind ~hom they are called to serve. The self-definition and self-understanding being requested of them may no longer be seen as a value worth pursuing. It cannot be denied that there are many demands on religious today, and they must~become ~selective in which de-mands they will meet. But in developihg personal and ~ollective criteria for responding to demands, religious must not forget.that the time and effort spent in self-understanding and self-definition is~ultimatelyfor the sake of greater and more meaningful service to others and for the building up of the life of the Church. The deeper the unde.rstand!ng of the call of the Spirit .,to the founder and those who have come after him, the deeper and more intense could be the response. And the growth in appreciation of the gift Of the Spirit that is a particular religious institute contributes to growth in wonder and appreciation of the gift that is Church. 368 / Review Jor Religious, Volume "36, 1977/3 . If the proposed direction of the new law for institutes of the conse-crated life is adopted in the Church, religious could be the richer spiritually for what it will necessitate in terms of further self-definition. But if the easier, more .comfortable path is followed of just latching on to that which is familiar, without serious examination of roots and traditibns, then the opportunity for seizing onto the uniqueness of God's gift of the particular institute will be lost. Every religious group was called into being because of a unique need in 'the Church. The continuance and growth of'institutes is suppo~sed to be .in terms of their umque contributions to the life of the Church and the world. This uniqueness is born of the special love of God for the founder and those who have succeeded the founder with the passage of time, all unique persons, who, in sharing life and ministry together, should be creating a unique response to God, the Church and the world. We need to know exactly where our insl, itutes are "new" in terms of this uniqueness, how we have arrived at this point through our traditions and history, and the best steps to promote ot~r response within a thoroughly Christian and ec-clesial religious life for the future. The Church's renewed call to the dis-covery of uniqueness deserves a serious answer if we value the gifts of God that are our institutes. ~ The Pregnancy The cloistered life within her sends the fire that burns her cheek-- Nature's proud assertion; Life's excited'glow; The insuppressible, open declaration Of yesterday's.creation and tomorrow's warm embrace. A compliant constitution accommodates her child--~ Time's prodigy care~ering toward release From cell to self so he may show his face And state in gurgled language instinctive gratitude. Never more important or more vital to another; ~ Linked by blood and substance in protracted intimacy O~f singular and enviable duration-- A high point in the human testament of love. A legacy for embattled man to learn from-- Acceptance, peace, surrender of one's self, Belief'in time hnd patience that reveals The unfathomable restoration of life's fragments in a soul. Donald DeMarco St. Jerome's College Waterloo, Ontario N2L _3G3 Canada Chapter Delegate" Qualities and R esponsi bi I iti es Robert Morneau Father Morneau is an Instructor of Philosophy at Silver Lake College; Manitowoc, WI 54220~ The significance of general chapters of religious communities cannot be overstressed. The responsibility of providing and sustaining a vision, the challenge to be true to the gospel while preserving the uniqueness of the community's special charism, the mandate to read the signs of the times and yet have a universal sensitivity, all demand diligent work and competent deliberators. This article is an attempt to describe some of the qualifies in-herently crucial to the fulfillment of the above challenges and to specify areas of responsibility following upon election as a delegate to a general chapter. Essentially what is being offered is a job description, a delineation ot~ the functions of a trusted steward, The thesis of this article is that a chapter delegate is called to be a dialogical person, a prophetic person, and a wounded healer.' / Delegate: A Dialogical Person God our Father is a God of revelation. In the precious mystery of his grace, he has chosen to reveal himself and his gracious love to mankind. Throughout history God .has communicated with his people, calling all crea-tion to life and fidelity. As a diaiogical God, he longs to speak his love and forgiveness; he searches out those who will listen and respond to his word. ~The image of wounded healer is taken from Henri J. M. Nouwen's book by the same title. 369 370 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 God has spoken and told us where he is and who he is. We are called to imitate our Father: "Try, then, to imitate God, as children of his that he loves. " (Ep 5: ! ); we do this from one perspective by becoming dialogi-cal persons. Our model is the Father who shares himself with us in word and sacrament. The qualities of a dialogicai person are many; we will limit our con-sideration to three essential attitudes that must be present if authentic com-munication is to happen. The first and perhaps most difficult quality of a dialogical person is listening. Monologues are terribly common in life; empty, one-sided discourses in which no one is listening and probably no one is thinking. Dialogue demands attentive listening, feeling behind the words into the reality being expressed. This type of listening is concerned not with simple, audible comprehension but with a compassionate desire to enter into the world of the speaker to see what has been seen, to hear what has been given. An example of this sensitive listening can be found in Tolstoy's classic War and Peace: He told of these adventures as he had never yet recalled them. He now, as it were, saw a new meaning in all he had gone through. Now that he was tell-ing it all to Natasha he experienced that pleasure which a man has when women listen to him--not clever women who when listening either try to remember what they hear to enrich their minds and when opportunity offers to retell it, or who wish to adopt it to some thought of their own and promptly contribute their own clever comments prepared in their own little mental workshop--but the pleasure given by real women gifted with a capacity to select and absorb the very best a man shows of himself. Natasha without knowing it was all attention: she did not lose a word, not a single quiver in Pierre's voice, no look, no twitch of a muscle in his face, nor a single gesture. ~ She caught the unfinished word in its flight and took it straight into her open heart, divining the secret meaning of all Pierre's mental travail.'-' If a delegate is to truly listen, there must be some degree of interior silence.Turning off the inner engines is difficult and demands discipline, yet so necessary if the message is to be understood and the feelings are to o be appreciated. C. S. Lewis expressed well our dilemma: "Inner silence is for our race a difficult achievement.":' To obtain this silence we must deal with our own fears, insecurities and prejudices. These tendencies block lis-tening, put us into the land of defensiveness and create a sense of being threatened. Secure in our forts, with drawbridge raised and the moat filled with crocodiles, we protect ourselves from new ideas, visions and possibili-ties. Again C. S. Lewis drives home the point: "He could never empty, or silence, his own mind to make room for an alien thought.''~ A chapter dele- "Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace, tr. by Louise and Aylmer Maude. (New York, 1942), p. 1241. By permission of the Oxford University Press. :'C. S. Lewis, Perelandra (New York, 1944), p. 140. 4C. S. Lewis, Surprised by Joy (New York, 1955), p. 184. Chapter Delegate: Qualities and Responsibilities / 371 gate must listen and discern. Electing a nondialogical person to a chapter is like inviting a deaf person to a concert or taking someone who is blind to an art museum. Neither experience nor growth is possible if essential capaci-ties are lacking~ Listening is essential to dialogue. A second quality of a dialogical person is trust. In an essay written in 1952, Martin Buber stated: "But here is an essential presupposition for all this dialogue: it is necessary to overcome the massive distrust in others and also that in ourselves.''~ If Buber's observation is correct, and there seems to be sufficient evidence to,verify his reflection, we have a lot of growing to do. We must reestablish trust in others and in ourselves. H~opefully, we will gr~aund our trust on the theological fact that God has faith and trust in us. He has given us freedom and intelligence, blessed us with insight and grace. We are his stewards entrusted to do his work in our times. Sensing this, a delegate must come to a radical trust in his own personal insight and conviction. This trust must then be extended to others who are also on the journey searching for truth and goodness. Nothing breaks down communica-tion so quickly as distrust; it hardly pays to initiate a discussion unless there is a solid degree of self-confidence and a climate of confidence in others. Buber, quoting Robert Hutchins, writes: "The essence of the Civiliza-tion of the Dialogue is communication. This presupposes mutual respect and understanding, it does not presuppose agreement.'"; Our trust in self and others must be supplemented with respect and the ability to understand. It would be profitable for delegates to spend some time critically reading Emerson's essay "Self-Reliance" and Howe's The Miracle o[ Dialogue. Desire ]or truth is a third quality of the dialogical person. A longing for insight and perspective characterizes the mind and heart of a truth-seeker. Like an ink blotter, this type of person quickly and completely absorbs truth wherever it presents 'itself. Desire for truth means being in contact with facts (hard data). There is no excuse for ignorance; the homework must be done. Besides researching and interpreting facts, truth demands contact with basic principles, those patterns of meanings which explain and eluci-date reality. Experience and reflection are prerequisites here. Besides dealing with facts and principles, desire for truth calls for the basic disposition mani-festing a willingness to change and grow. Regardless of who speaks a "pagan" philosopher, a formed provincial, a member in one's local commur nity, a poet--the searcher for truth listens and evaluates. So often God is speaking through these and other historical channels. If the search is honest, change will be demanded; certain, pet ~:ategories will be dropped and new ones added (e.g., collegiality) ; treasured prejudices must be let go and open-ness of mind fostered; static, rigid formulations must be reexamined in the :'Martin Buber, "Hope for This Hour;" quoted in Maurice S. Friedman, ed., Pointing the Way (New York, 1974), p. 222. ~;ibid., p. 222. 372 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 light of new research and insight. The process is painful and not without its victims but this is the price of honest discipleship. If a chapter delegate is called to imitate God by being a dialogical per-son characterized by attentive listeniiag, deep trust and a desire for truth, several responsibilities automatically arise. (1) A chapter delegate must be available to the people he represents. The thinking, feeling and life-style of his ~onstituency must be familiar material to the delegate. The duty of being available is not without its price: time and energy, precious and limited commodities, must be sacrificed in fulfilling this obligation. (2) A chapter delegate must be able to make distinctions. Meriol Trevor, in her biography of Cardinal Newman, wrote concerning Ft. Faber: "He would never dis-tinguish between disapproval and dislike; he himself always spoke of hating people who disagreed with him and he could not believe others were differ-ent.'' r This type of person should not be allow~id to be in the arena of policy making. One must be able to know and experience the difference between understanding and agreeing, between a person and an issue, between an idea and its emotive force. Chapters in which such distinctions are consistently made result in community growth and peace. (3) A chapter delegate must be willing to speak during the chapter proceedings. Some eloquent (and not so eloquent) discourses on stairways and in other private areas would be more profitably shared with the. entire group. There 'is no excuse for devastating criticisms made outside the halls of the chapter room and silence reigning within. As a general principle no one should say outside of chapter what he is not willing to say to the whole group. A delegate is mandated to speak out, to take a stance, to express points of view. If this is done with respect and in the spirit of truth, there should be tittle to fear. Merton's insight is helpful: "Ignorance is the parent of fear.''~ Our talk should flow from our study and reflection on life. Delegate: A Prophetic Person Jesus was a prophet. The study of Scripture verifies this fact and. further points out that throughout the Old Testament the Father sent prophets on special missions. Jesus' mission was unique and yet contained the basic in-gredients of those who preceded him: to reveal who the Father was and also to provide the means whereby people might return to the Father. Like Christ, the chapter delegate is missioned. This "being sent" comes through the community and the task flowing from this mission resembles that of all the prophets. The booklet Spiritual Renewal o[ the American Priesthood describes the prophet in these terms: The prophet's function was to perceive the presence or absence of God in situations and to point out the consequences of that presence or absence. A 7Meriol Trevor, Newman: Light in Winter (New York, 1963), p. 86. ,'Sotlrce unknown. Chapter Delegate: Qualities and Responsibilities / 373 prophet had to know contemporary issues, but even more, he had to be sensi-tive to the mind and will of God.:' In the context of this prophetic role, certain traits clearly emerge that would characterize a chapter delegate. The first of these is sensitivity. This sensitivity must embrace the three sectors of time: the past with its treasures and cultural limitations, the present with its high ideals and ambiguous facts, the future with its plans and realistic hopes. It is possible and often happens in life that we eat but do not taste, read but do not comprehend, listen but do not hear. Historical insensitivity cannot be excused; we must be in touch with our roots and our traditions. Unless carefully nurtured, this sensitivity can be lost. Sensitivity demands that we perceive what is happen- .ing here and now; that we enter in or are caught up by the present moment. This is not just a cognitive apprehension, since it necessarily includes an affective involvement~ The future will be basically meaningless if we do not avoid the tragedy of lost sensitivity written of by Hopkins: Generations have trod, have trod, have trod; And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil; And wear man's smudge and shares man's smell; the soul ls bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.~° It is time once again to take off our shoes/' to be sensitive to our world, to our people, to our deepest self. A sense of reverence, awe and wonder is much needed in our merry-go-round world. Prophets are, of necessity, courageous people. If Emerson is correct in saying that "God will not make himself manifest to cowards,''r-' then the V~rtue of fortitude takes on added importance in fostering the kingdom. Among the courageous people in history, St. Paul has been honored in a special way: ¯ . . But the big courage is the cold-blooded kind, the kind that never lets go even when you're feeling empty inside, and your blood's thin, and there's no kind of fun or profit to be had, and the trouble's not over in an hour or two but lasts for months and years. One of the men here was speaking about that kind, and he called it 'Fortitude.' I reckon fortitude's the biggest thing a man can have--just to go on enduring when there's no guts or heart left in you. Billy h~id' it when he trekked solitary from. Garungoze to the Limpogo with ~This booklet, edited by Gerard Broccolo and Ernest E. Larkin, O. Carm., was pub-lished in 1973 by the Publications Office of the United States Catholic Conference ( 1312 Massachusetts Avenue, N.W., WashingtoniDC 20005). ~'~Gerard Manley Hopkins, "God's Grandeur." ~V'Earth's crammed with heaven And every common bush afire with God; And only he who sees takes off his shoes-- The rest sit around it and pluck blackberries." Elizabeth Barrett Browning, "Aurora Leigh." I~Ra!ph Waldo Emerson, "The Over-Soul." 374 / Review lot Religious, ~'olume 36, 1977/3 fever and a broken arm just to show the Portugooses that he wouldn't be downed by them.,But the head man at the job was the Apostle Paul . 1:~ Courage helps us to deal,with two tendencies that permeate human existence: the tendency to fear the unknown and the drive to flee spontaneously from any object of danger. "Fright and flight"14 can block us from experiencing reality to its fullest. Courage enables us ~to stand firm and fight when the situation calls for this type of response; courage enables us to die to our-s~ lves for the sake of life. A delegate, knowing well what happens to most prophets in history, will have to face many dangers and crosses. At times his courage will manifest itself in patient endurance (the most difficult type of courage), while at other times he will be called upon to pounce on evil.1'~ Whatever is not compatible with the gospel must be courageously ques-tioned; whatever is antihuman or subhuman must be diligently removed. Living courage is a great boon to the entire community, not just to the in-dividual exercising that gift. A third trait of the prophetic person, exemplified so clearly in the life of Jesus, is that of vision. A delegate is called upon to have a perspective of what religious life is, to be able to situate in their context contemporary. issues, to sense the interrelationship among such things as prayer, asceticism and the apostolate. The blind cannot lead; only a person with vision can point the way. If a guide has not been to a given territory or if he loses the map which would get him there by carefully reading, he is no longer an asset to the group which relies on him. The delegate without vision con-tributes little in the attempt to provide meaning and direction for the com-munity. Two dangers have always plagued a healthy perspective: myopia and ignorance. The first danger allows one to see, but only to the end of one's nose--not a terribly helpful overview. Ignorance, th~ second danger, can only result in a valley experience even though the voice of the ignorant leader be forceful, and filled with an apparent self-confidence. A number of responsibilities become obligatory for the prophetic dele-gate. (1) A chapter delegate must be informed. Study and researizh will be as necessary and as natural as breathing for such a person. There is no excuse for not being aware of contemporary issues, the movements of our present culture, the meaning and influence of history. The presence or absence of information is relatively easy to detect. (2) If a person is to.be attuned to the mind and heart of God, prayer is necessary. Special emphasis should be placed on scriptural prayer since it is God's word which illuminates our understanding of contemporary issues. If the porters at the chapter doors should bar the uninformed, they should be twice as diligent in barring l:~John Buchan, Mr. Stead[ast; quoted in C. H. Dodd, The Meaning o[ Paul/or Today (London, 1920), p. 7. ~4Rev. Kevin O'Shea, "Enigma and Tenderness," Spiritual Li]e, Spring, 1975. ~sSee the. excellent Thomistic treatment of the virtue of fortitude in Josef Pieper, The Four Cardinal Virtues (Notre Dame, 1966), pp. 117-141. ,Chapter Delegate: Qualities and Responsibilities / 375 a person who does not pray faithfully. (3) A chapter delegate should be a person of decision. Newman in his Apologia Pro Vita Sua states: "Certitude is a reflex action; it is to,know that one knows.""; Study and prayer should lead us to this type of certitude which in turn enables us to make serious decisions, even though there will always be some element of risk if not doubt. Another facet in this process of decision making is the,willingness to assume responsibility for the decisions made. Indecisive and irresponsible persons should not be elected to chapters. The duties of being informed, prayerful and decisive are not acquired in a day not even a week. Yet the delegat~ should be growing in each of these areas if the community is to be served well. Delegate: A Wounded Healer Jesus promised that when he had returned to the Father he would send their Spirit. That promise has been realized in all who have come to believe in the Lord. This Spirit is leading all back to the Father through Christ; this Spirit is a Spirit of love, joy and peace. Through the Holy Spirit, heal-ing and reconciliation happens in our world today. A great vision of unity found in Pauline theology becomes a reality to the extent that people are living the life of the Spirit. Yet this vision of unity is premised on the tragic fact and acute awareness that fragmentation permeates creation. Man is divided within himself and separated from his fellow man, his God, and his world. We are a wounded pe~ople, scarred and battered by our own sins and the sins of others. "Everything God has made has a crack in it.'''r Our voca-tion is to make all one in Christ, to reconcile all creation to the Father. The gift of the Spirit dwelling in the Church and in our personal lives enables us to begin this glorious and painful task. The delegate as wounded healer is distinguishable by a sense of deep compassion. Graced with the ability to perceive things from the inside, the compassionate person has a knowledge of the heart and not just of external activity. The secret of the fox18 is undoubtedly correct: "And now here is my secret, a very simple secret. It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye." Compassion promotes our seeing what is truly significant;.it goes far beyond the inhuman limitations of our sensate culture. So often in Scripture, reference is made to the neces-sity of a new heart.':' God's word urges us to .grow in compassion and empathy. Insensitivity to the hurts and pains of others, even though these may be self-imposed, prevents the building of community. Compassion heals! Hopefully, every deli~gate has had the experience of being healed a6Early in his book Newmah writes, "In the first chapter of this narrative I spoke of certitude as the consequence, divinely intended and enjoined upon us, of the accumula-tive force of certain given reasons which, taken one by one, were only probabilities." lrRalph Waldo Emerson, "Compensation." lSAntoine de Saint Exupery, The Little Prince (New York, 1943). 1:'E.g., Jeremiah 31 : 31-34; Ezechiel 36:24-28. 376 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 through the heartfelt concern of others. Perhaps the task of the doctor applies to all of us: "sometimes to cure, often to alleviate, always to care.''z'' Compassion is care incarnated. The destructive force of nuclear warfare is so obvious that no on.e can deny its effects; less obvious but extremely powerful in the psychological realm is the prevalent killer called judgmentalism. A delegate must be a non~ judgmental person. This does not mean that one ceases making judgments, judgments which at times are sharp and painful. God has blessed us with reason and insight and we must ferret out the truth and the falsity of our lives and the life of the community. We cannot renege on our responsibility to find the truth and to speak it boldly. Judgmentalism, on the other hand, uses the faculty of reason but in an abusive way. Judgments are made, not on dis-cernible consequences, but on motives which cannot be verified. Evidence is wanting, yet persons are judged and insinuations are made. This type of iudgmentalism is characterized by intolerance (a demand that everyone live by my interpretation of religious life), a defensiveness and air of hostility, a lack of warmth and affability. A delegate, therefore, should have a delicate balance between tolerance of persons and intolerance of falsity; between respect for the individual and firmness in sticking to principles; between understanding the human condition and calling each other to growth. We come to realize that without the gift of the Spirit we cannot but fail in this stupendous task. Again we are helped in this area by realizing that we have been blessed in our personal histories with people who have refused to judge and condemn us, who have manifested an infinite patience in allowing us to grow through the stages of personal development. If we have been ~he object of judgmentalism, our experience should forever prevent us from venturing down that road of psychological and spiritual destructiveness. The word of God provides light for our pilgrimage. In the prophet Micah, we are challenged by the Father's woi~d: this is what Yahweh asks of you: only this, to act justly, to love tenderly and to walk humbly with your God.21 The call to justice, charity and faith is clear. Interestingly, spiritual love has the quality of tenderness, a-term which forcefully describes the manner in which we are to reach out to others in concern. It is possible to serve un-willingly, to meet needs because of duty, to heal out of necessity. This is neither sufficient nor healthy in an ultimate sense. God calls us to enter fully and generously into the lives of others. A tender love, a gentle con-cern, a warm respect characterize total love. Underlying this kind of love is the keen realization that human beings are terribly fragile. Indeed, "avalances gather force and crash, unheard, in men as in the mountains." "-'°America, May 1, 1976, p. 377. Paul Ramsey was quoted by the authors. '-'1Micah 6:8. Chapter Delegate: Qualities and Responsibilities / 377 People with whom we live can be breaking apart inside without our aware-ness; a tender word and radical love can heal so many lives that are on the edge.of despair. A chapter delegate would benefit from reading Fr. Kevin O'Shea, especially his article "Enigma and Tenderness.''~ The chapter delegate, a wounded healer, is challenged to fulfill certain responsibilities in this area. (1) He must ]ace the negative in self, others and the world. A recent Cartoon showed a street cleaner lifting up the edge of a sidewalk under which he swept the city's debris. No healing can take place unless we honestly and courageously face that which is destructive within life. Exploitation and manipulation are too common to be ignored; these must be searched out and dealt with in a reasonable way. (2) He should ]ace the positive in self, community and the world. Just as dangerous as the rug syndrome is the denial of or unwillingness to recognize the vast potential waiting to be actualized in creation. Leadership qualities lie fallow because of fear; intellectual skills remain untapped because of a lack of .challenge; talents stay on shelves for want of affective nutrients. "Our in-tellectual and active powers increase with our affection.'"-':' The truly great person has the vision to perceive the gifts of others~ the truly great person has disciplined productivity and shares his love and life with others. The delegate must perceive and promote the gifts and talents given by the Lord. (3) He should rejoice in life. Nothing heals so quickly as genuine humor and authentic play. Joy is one of the signs of the Spirit's presence. It flows from an awareness of God's personal love and the gift of his life. Consoling Conclusion It is eminently unfair.to demand of a single individual the. multiple qualifications listed in the foregoing pag.es. Who could possibly fulfill the following want-ad posted on the community .bulletin board? WANTED!!! 25 people who are: !) dialogicai persons --who have deep capacity to listen, trust, learn --who are available, discerning, vocal 2) prophetic persons who are --sensitive, courageous, visionary --informed, prayerful, decisive 3) wounded healers who are --compassionate, non-judgmental, tender --realistic, joyful ~20'Shea, op. cit. ~:~Ralph Waldo Emerson, "Friendship." 378 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 Although applications might be filled out, no one person could qualify in every area. The first spiritual Olympics are yet to be held. Consolation comes from the fact that chapters are not made up of only one individual. Rather, they a~:e community affairs and the principle of complementarity comes inio play. What one lacks, 6thers have. The above job description is not so much one for individuals as it is for a community. Because of the blessing of pluralism, many communities could easily qualify. Tragic is the election in a community that allows a strong predominance of a single personality type. Once again, it is diversity ttiat leads to life; a di-versity grounded in concern for the kingdom. Beginnings Somewhe.re, in the night I hear you gathering pebbles for tomorrow's task.' Take care to slip a stir amidst the stones you gather; temples hold fast with dreams. Only a locust lurks in the wrinkled meadows, keeping company with the wheat that waits to be reaped by our tears. Together we will meet you at the altar when only the sound of bees will be heard preparing waxen sacrifices for your vacant vigil. Until then, I will be chanting antiphons in tune with your canticles. Sister Carole MacKenthun St. Mary Academy 250 Forest Ave., Lakewood, NI 08701 The "System" Side of Stewardship Gerald R. Amelse Mr. Amelse has been a church finance manager and consultant for sixteen years. He studied Accounting, Business Administration and Economics at The Catholic Univer-sity, the University Of Notre Dame, George Washington University and the University of Maryland. Culrently he is a partner of Calkins-Amelse Associates, which offers management services for non-profit organizations. His office is located at 4531 Pine-crest Heights Drive; Annandale, VA 22003. The widely publicized financial mishaps of several Catholic Church organi-zations in recent years have brought into question the quality of church financial management in general and of financial management in religious congregations in particular. Public attention has tended to focus on the caliber of the financial administrators and advisors involved in these cases rather than on the adequacy of the underlying systems of financial organi-zation, policies .and procedures in each instance. Responsible stewardship can result only when qualified administrators function within an appropriate financial management system. An unsound financial management system; in whole or in part, can be as inimical to responsible stewardship as unquali-fied administrators or advisors. A sound financial management system is equally important for religious congregations because of their changed environment. For several genera-tions, ~religious congregations in the United States enjoyed almost steady growth in membership, resources, activities .and facilities. Now, however, total memberships are static, if not in actual decline; new needs, such as retirem6nt, are making additional claims on already limited resources, and the maintenance of much needed apostolic acti~,itie's and institutions is be-coming increasingly more difficult. Financial management systems developed and used during previous generations may have been adequate in an era 379 380 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 36, 1977/3 of growth. The present environment, however, requires a system that will improve the ability of a congregation to meet~ increasing internal and apostolic needs with limited and declining resource potential. The exercise of responsible stewardship today calls for clear financial organization, appropriate financial policies, and sound budgeting, account-ing and reporting procedures. Church leaders should be concerned about the adequacy of' their organization's financial management system and anxious to improve it in each of the following areas: Financial Organ&ation A congregation's financial organization is the structure of its formal decision-making positions, the relationships between those positions, and the lines of their accountability. Besides the standard positions (treasurer, controller, and so forth) a congregation's financial organization should also identify the individuals responsible for specific programs, projects, activities and departments, and clearly define their respective roles, relationships and lines of accountability. Lack of clarity in a congregation's financial organi-zation can easily lead to flawed communications, loss of direction, duplica-tion of effort, and wastefulness in the exercise of responsible stewardship. Financial Policies A policy is a definite course or method of action, selected from .among alternatives and in light of given conditions, to guide and determine present and future decisions. Without a comprehensive set of clear financial policies, officials and administrators ~i'e, in effect, more or less free to make financial decisions according to their individual discretion rather than according to previously approved courses of action. The four major sources of financial policies for a religious congregation are: Church law, norms and guidelines; the congregation's own rule and constitution; formal enactments of the congregation,s governing body; and day-to-day operating decisions. It is the responsibility of the congregation's governing body, however, to have a summary of financial policies prepared and periodically to review and approve it. Budgeting The budget is a congregation's principal financial planning tool. The long-range planning aspect of a budget (i.e., two or more years') should identify the congregation's future sources" and uses of funds, project the amounts of revenue anticipated from each identified source and project the amounts of expenditures required for each identified use. The short-range aspect (i.e., month, quarter, year) should detail the estimated ex-penditures for each proposed program, project, activity and department, and itemize the specific means of financing the expenditures. Since the objective of a budget is the development of a financial plan, it The "System" Side o[ Stewardship / 381 is necessary to begin the budgeting process with information about the programs, projects, activities and departments which the congregation is planning for the coming year(s). Information on past performance is an importarit input to the budgeting process, but relying too heavily on ac-counting data and financial reports (which are historical in character) can create the danger that.a congregation's budget will reflect more what has happened in the past rather than what the congregation wants to happen in the future. Clear financial organization is essential for sound budgeting. A budget can not be completely useful as a planning tool until the individuals re-sponsible for each program, project, activity and department have been identified and their responsibility for performance against the plan and budget has been accepted by them. Furthermore, budgets that are prepared without the participation of the persons responsible for directing specific programs, projects, activities and departments are generally weak as plan-ning tools. Program, project, activity and d~epartments heads can not be expected to comprehend fully, agree with or conform to a financial plan in which they did not participate in developing. Accounting ~nd Reporting The financial statements of religious congregations are meant to provide superiors, administrators, members and other interested parties with a mean-ingful summarization of the congregation's overall financial condition as well as the operating results of its programs, projects, activities and ~depart-merits. In order to achieve this purpose more effectively, congregations should introduce both "fund" and "functional" accounting procedures into their basic accounting systems. A fund is a sum of money or other resource, set aside for a specific pur-pose acc~ording to restrictions imposed either by the intent of the donor or" by regulation of the congregation's officials~ Grants, annuities and endow-ments are examples of funds whose uses are restricted by the intent of the donor. A retirement fund is an example of money set aside for a specific purpose by regulation of the congregation's officials. The significant char-acteristic of fund accounting is that it classifies and records the financial transactions within each fund--assets, liabilities, receipts, disbursements and fund balances--according to the specified restrictions. Functional accounting records expenses according to specific programs, projects, activities and departments, and reports this information to the administrators directly responsible for these functions. This procedure im-proves expense control and also provides a practical basis for realistically evaluating the allocation and use of the congregation's limited resources. A congregation could be led' tO revamp its finanEial plans of action when confronted with financial information that enables a comparison of pro-gram, project, activity and department ~osts with their intended results. 3a2 / Review jot Religious, lZolume 36, 1977/3. oaelusion Financial organization, policies and procedures are not the only aspects of responsible stewardship. They are, nonetheless, essential elements of-sound financial management and control. Any congregation that finds its present management system to be somewhat inadequate should obtain qualified assistance to help review and strengthen it wherever necessary. REPRINTS FROM THE REVIEW Profile of the Spirit: A Theology of Discernment of Spirits by J. R. Sheets, S.J. .50 Retirement or Vigil by B. Ashley, O.P. .30 The Confessions of Religious Women by St. M. Denis, S.O.S. 30 The Four Moments of Prayer by J. R. Sheets, S.J. .50 The Healing of Memories by F. Martin .35 The Nature and Value of a Directed Retreat by H. F. Smith, S.J . 35 The Teaching Sister in the Church by E. Gambari, S,M.M. .30 The Thepiogy of the Eucharistic Presence by J. Galot, S~J. .30 The Vows and Christian Life by G. Greif, S.J. .30 New Reprints Centering Prayer--Prayer of Quiet by M. B. Pennington, O.C.S.O . 50 Colloquy of God With a Soul That Truly Seeks Him .30 Prayer of Personal Reminiscence by D. J. Hassel, S.J. 60 Orders for the above should be sent to: Review for Religious 612 Humboldt Building 539 No. Gra

Issue 29.6 of the Review for Religious, 1970. ; EDITOR R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITOR Everett A. Diederich, S.J. ASSISTANT EDITOR John L. Treloar, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Correspondence with the editor, the associate editors, and the assistant editor, as well as books for review, should be sent to Rxvmw Fog R~LmtOUS; 6x2 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63xo3. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. .Joseph's Church; 32~ Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania + + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited with ecclesiastical approval by faculty members of the School of Divinity of Saint Louis University, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Lores, Missouri 63103. Owned by the Missouri Province Edu-cational Institute. Published bimonthly and copyright © 1970 by REVIEW SOR REI, mtOUS. Printed in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at Baltimore, Maryland and at additional mailing offices. Single copies: $1.25. Sub-scription U.S.A. and Canada: $6.00 a year, $11.00 for two years; other countries: $7.00 a year, $13.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order paya-ble to REvmw sort RELmmUS in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent REvmw sog RELIGIOUS. Change of address requests should include former address. Renewals and new subscriptions should be sent to REVIEW sort RELIGIOUS; P. O. Box l 110; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Manuscripts, editorial correspondence, and books for re-view should be sent to REVIEW sog 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. NOVEMBER 1970 VOLUME 29 NUMBER 6 RICHARD P. VAUGHAN, s.J. Spiritual Counseling and Pra er. Fostering an ever deepening relationship with God, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit constitutes a major objective of the religious life. Traditionally the road to such a relationship has been a formal schedule of prayer. The daily horarium of spiritual exercises has been an essential part of almost every congregation's rule or con-stitutions. During the past decade styles of religious life and prayer have undergone change, especially among younger religious. Emphasis on the relationship with God remains, but the way of achieving this relationship and what it means differ. The new religious is more aware of what he is before God and before others. He is more aware of the Spirit working in the secular world; he recognizes God in himself, in the persons and events of his daily life. He encounters Christ in his contacts with others. Formal prayer, such as meditation, recitation of the Office and rosary, seem less impor.tant to him. In some instances, they have been abandoned in favor of a fre-quently renewed commitment. Flexibility. in Prayer In response to changing attitudes, many congregations have started to experiment with more flexible approaches to prayer. Freedom, previously unheard of, has been ÷ granted. Set periods of obligatory prayer have given way ÷ to approaches geared to unique personalities and temper- ÷ aments and to the dem~inds of a particular apostolate. This change has let a breath of fresh air into many communities, but at the same time it has created a vac-uum. Formal scheduled prayer, while it can and has helped individuals to grow in the likeness of Christ, is subject to the danger of routinism. It is relatively easy for a religious to deceive himself into believing that he is growing in the spiritual life because he spends the time at prayer required by rule, whereas little true prayer is ac- 803 Richard Vaughan, S.J.; P.O. BOX 519; Los Gatos, California 95030; is Provincial for Edu-cation of the Cali-fornia Jesuits . VOLUME 29, 1970 .÷ R. P. Va~ghan, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 804 tually taking place. Some religious have been content to spend the assigned time at daily meditation, Office, or rosary, even though little recognizable benefit resulted, simply because the rule prescribed it. Young religious have come to question such a view. The focus of their religious life is more on the frequently renewed dedica-tion. However, just as the traditional emphasis has its limitations, so too does the recent approach. A spiritual life placing heavy emphasis on seeing God in the world of people and events can gradually give way to a human-ism in which one is no longer actively aware of God and centers rather on the purely human with a subsequent loss of the original commitment. Value of Spiritual Counseling Regular spiritual counseling can counteract this dan-ger, inasmuch as it requires the counselee to face honestly and openly his continuing commitment to the service of God and neighbor and, it might be added, to see the need for some form of regular prayer if an active awareness of God's presence is to continue. The process of spiritual counseling differs radically from psychological counseling and psychotherapy. The latter two are concerned with changes in personality and the reversal of symptoms resulting from the application of psychological techniques, whereas spiritual counseling focuses on the person's life with God. The spiritual coun-selor attempts to help the individual become more aware of his religious experiences. Basically he is trying to assist the counselee in discerning the workings of the spirit, so that he can determine what is the will of God for him in concrete situations. It is true that emotional disorders and faulty attitudes injure this discernment, but chang-ing these personality characteristics is not the spiritual counselor's proper function. Recognizing them, however, and the part they play in blocking discernment is. When personality characteristics are such as to handicap seri-ously any true discernment, then it is the responsibility of the spiritual counselor to direct the religious to a compe-tent professional so that these limitations can be reme-died. Spii'itual counseling serves a number of important functions. First of all, it allows us to have a better under-standing of the nature and quality of our relationship ,with God. It makes us actively aware of our daily reli-gious experiences. In our routine-ridden world, it is very easy to put aside a certain amount of time for prayer but seldom reflect on the efficacy and effectiveness of this prayer. We are apt to gloss over the question: Is my prayer truly prayer? Moreover, spiritual counseling makes us clarify and sharpen our thoughts and feelings about religious experiences in a way we would never do if we settled for a few minutes of self-reflection. When I must explain these experiences to another, I am forced to scrutinize them and then describe them in clear, accurate terms intelligible to my listener, As I talk about such things as the place of Christ in my life, God as a loving Father, prayer, the manifestation of grace, the working of the Holy Spirit, or God's will, I gradually sort out the genuine from the false, and the important from the un-important. I become aware of my openness or.my lack of openness to God. I become aware of the many ways that God is operating in my life--either directly or indirectly. I experience a deeper appreciation for God-'s manifesta- .tions. On the other hand I may well see that a wall seems to exist between God and myself. I may come to the conclusion that I have closed myself off from or denied many of God's manifestations. I may see that I have rejected important graces and c6ncerned myself exces-sively with my own world. If left to myself, it is less likely that I would come to realize my own selfishness and. lack of concern for God and neighbor. Listening Spiritual counseling involves three phases: listening, dialogue, and decision. Listening is an activity .of both the counselee and the .counselor. Even though the coun-selee may never reflect upon the fact, he listens to himself and to the promptings of divine grace within himself. As he talks he becomes aware of God working in and through him. Moreover, it is assumed that previous to the coun-seling session he has listened to God speaking, especially at times of.prayer. These promptings of grace become the subject of discussion. It should be noted that God speaks in many ways: directly through His Spirit, through reve-lation, through others, and through the events 6f everyday life. One 6f the goals of counseling is to determine when God speaks as opposed to the promptings of our sinful nature. Listening is also the work of an effective counselor. It is sometimes falsely considered "lending an ear." If one is present and aware of what is being said, he is thought to be listening. The truth of the matter is that listening is a very active process requiring much concentration and ex-penditure of energy. It demands that the counselor try to be aware of what is taking place within the counselee at each moment he is with him. It also demands that the counselor recognize the various levels of functioning, such as the spiritual, the cognitive, the conative, and the affective, as well as the relationship and integration, or lack of integration, of all of these functions. For instance, the good listener is one who is perceptive enough to see ÷ ÷ ÷ Counseling and Prayer VOLUME 29, 1970 805 ÷ ÷ R. P. Vaughan, S.]. REVIEW "FOR RELIGIOUS 806 when emotions have taken over to the detriment of the Spirit or when habitual attitudes block thoughtful reflec-tion. The good listener hears not only the words but the way the words are expressed. He notes the tone of voice as well as the mode of expression; from these he is able to estimate the emotional involvement. The spiritual coun-selor as listener concentrates on any indication of the Spirit working within the counselee. He notes blocks or hindrances to the promptings of grace. At times, he sees that the counselee has a need to unlSurden himself before he can become aware of God's presence in his life. The counselor listens with empathetic concern. He attempts to discover what God means to the connselee, his reli-gious experiences, the depths of his faith, and his atti-tudes. Frequently all of these can be learned by active and attentive listening with little need for probing or questioning. Before the counselor enters the second phase, namely, the dialogue, he makes sure that he has at least an adequate estimate of the counselee's spiritual state. Dialogue The second phase, the dialogue, presupposes a rapport which allows the counselee to talk freely about his reli-gious experiences. Concerned listening often brings this about, inasmuch as it produces a feeling of acceptance, which permits the counselee to express freely his views without [ear of rejection. A dialogue is a conversation in which two persons reason on a topic, exchanging ideas and opinions. They examine the evidence for and against an action or a position. The initial stance is one of open-ness to all possibilities. When the term is used in relation to spiritual counseling, it implies that the counselor and the counselee examine the latter's spiritual condition, re-flecting upon its state. I[ all is well, they evaluate the signs indicating that the individual is following God's will. If there is a problem, they weigh together possible solutions, considering arguments for and against each. During the first phase the counselee describes his spirit-ual condition, which then becomes the topic of discussion during the second phase. The counselor helps the counse-lee enumerate arguments favorable to and opposed to a particular stance; he helps him evaluate the relative mer-its of each. He assists him to see when and how the Spirit is working in concrete situations. He also helps him to-ward a greater awareness of God's presence. Counseling is a learning situation. It is a time when an individual learns more about himself. Often this is accomplished without giving advice or direction. As the counselee talks about his relationship with God and neighbor, he be-comes more aware of divine intervention in the world of grace. He begins to see on his own what changes should be made and what he should do to bring about improve-ment. However, there is still a place for direction and guidance, especially in counseling younger members of a community. For instance, if a religious has never learned to pray properly, the counseling session c,'in afford an opportunity to teach the fundamentals, followed b3) a period of testing and reassessment. It can also be the occasion for presenting the traditions of a community, a time when the religious can consider whether he is fol-lowing these traditions or whether he really wishes to do so. Whether one makes use of advice and. guidance de-pends upon the needs of the individual counselee. It is the task of the counselor to determine these needs and then proceed accordingly. Decision-making At times, decision-making is part of the counseling process. Frequently, however, the purpose of counseling is simply to help an individual come to a greater aware-ness of God's manifestations and to a better understand-ing how he is or is not following God's will. When there is a need to make a decision, it is hoped that the counsel-ing will result in the counselee arriving at a decision on his own. The function of the counselor is to see that the counselee confronts all the options and weighs their rela-tive merits. Rarely should the counselor force a final deci-sion based on his own evaluation of the situation. If the counseling is truly counseling, most counselees can arrive at a decision without undue influence on the part of the counselor. An inability to do so may signify some kind of a psychological problem. dttributes of the Counselor Who can counsel? What should be the characteristics and abilities of the spiritual counselor? First and fore-most, he or she should be a person of faith, aware of the world of grace and the divine manifestations; one who has personally experienced the presence of God in his own life. He should be a person who can and does love both himself and others. He should be perceptive, with the ability to see below the surface and recognize the depths of personality and spiritual growth. He should also be able to communicate well his thoughts and im-pressions. To be effective, he or she will need adequate training in the theology of the spiritual life and, hope-fully, will have previously sought out a spiritual counse-lor for himself or herself. Psychological training can be helpful inasmuch as it offers some procedures directly or indirectly applicable to spiritual counseling. It should be noted, however, that it Counseling and Prayer VOLUME 29, 1970 807 can also be a handicap if the counselor, as a result of his training, centers most of his attention on personal prob-lems to the neglect of the spiritual. If young religious are to develop a full spiritual li~e, and if older members are to realize the renewal urged by Vatican II, there is a need for an abundance of spiritual counselors--at least one or two for every large commun-ity, It is quite evident there are too few priests with available time. The most logical solution is for congrega-tions to train the members of their own communities as spiritual counselors. They could select those best suited by previous training, experience, and personality, and assign them to this important task. Many orders or con-gregations of men have already inaugurated such a pol-icy, but they find it impossible to supply priests who can devote themselves fully to the counseling of religious women. Conclusion A perusal of the early history of the religious life re-veals a minimum of structure with a great emphasis on regular spiritual direction. Due to the constant effort of a spiritual counselor each monk grew at his own rate in the likeness of Christ. As members increased individual coun-seling became more difficult and was gradually replaced by the ordered daily horarium of spiritual exercises, the goal of both being the deepening of the monk's relation-ship with God. If contemporary religious congregations are to realize the inner renewal sought by Vatican II, they would do well to consider a return to a style of religious life grounded in regularspiritual counseling. ÷ ÷ R. P. Vaughan, REVIEW FOR R~LIGIOU$ SISTER KRISTIN SHRADER, R.S.M. Prayer Is Listening Several years, ago, Karl Rahner began speaking of the "Church of the Diaspora," the Church which had come of age, which had forsaken the trappings of bourgeois collectivism, which had become the standard, of a commit-ted few. If the diaspora has characterized Chrigtianity, it seems even more so to be characterizing contempoi:ary religious" life. The wane of numerical strength has made it clear that convents and seminaries are in the throes of a crisis of vocation and a crisis of belie[. It is within the context of religiotis life in the Church of the diaspora that I would like to discuss the question of contemplative prayer. Our age, engulfed in a deluge of media and messages, has been characterized as one which "has lost the apti-tude for prayer.'.' 1 If prayer is listening not only to the Spirit as He works in our hearts but as He works in the world around us, then perhaps our age has also lost the aptitude' for listening. Perhaps we are deaf to'entire re-gions of ourselves and our world. I shall try to describe these hidden domains, and, in the process, try to l~rovoke us to hear what we have not heard before. Perhaps we are deaf to that part of ourselves and our world which is beyond that which merely performs "actions. This is the self and the world which do not act, but which are the mirrors in which God acts so as to let Himself be known. This is not the self-made self and not the man-made world, but is that which is passive, which is fashioned and illuminated by God. How are we in the last third of the twentieth century to find a new way to pray, a new way to listen? I suggest that we look at our unhearing selves in terms of two new images: that of pilgrim and that of prophet, instead of in terms of the image of professional or of achiever. This means that to listen, to pray, we must not do, achieve, or accomplish anything as the world accomplishes things, but rather that we must learn to listen by holding our- I Wino~ de Broucher, S.J., "Mortification in Prayer," Cross and Crown, March 1963, p. 13. 4- Sister Kristin writes from Lewis Hall (Box 219); University o[ Notre Dame; Notre Dame, Indiana 46556. VOLUME 29, 1970 809 ÷ ÷ ÷ Sister Kristir~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 810 selves in readiness for something, or rather for someone. This patient readiness is what I think Karl Rahner was describing when he spoke of prayer as "this awful waiting." 2 It is what Augustine meant when he said that the continual desire for God is prayer. I can neither explain nor understand prayer. Perhaps no one can: "There are thresholds which thought alone, left to itself, can never permit us to cross. An experience is required--an experience of poverty and sickness" 3 or, perhaps, of love or of sacrifice. By attempting to describe something, prayer, which I cannot explain, perhaps I can, though, suggest how we "listen." Merton suggests the form that such a preparation for prayer might take: (1) detachment and (2) finding ideas about God in all we do.4 His second suggestion corresponds to what I will describe as living as a prophet, as one who sees the signs of God in all things. His first suggestion, detachment, corresponds to what I have called living as pilgrim, as one who can look inside himself to see that he desires God and God alone, and that this world is b/at one stage of his Godward development. Amid the dissonance of the desires of this world, the pilgrim alone truly knows how to listen. He knows that this world is not his home, that he is journeying to God, and that this very journey is what we call prayer. As Merton says: "The secret of prayer is a hunger for God and for the vision of God, a hunger that lies far deeper than the level of language or affection." ~ Much this same point, that prayer is a desire for God, a consciousness of our being pilgrims, of our listening to what is in, but not of, the world, is made not only by Merton, but also by Teresa of Avila, by Aquinas, by Paul, by Guardini, by John of the Cross, and by Karl Rahner. When John of the Cross wrote that the man of prayer "will desire with all desire to come to that which in this life cannot be known," 6 he was making much the same point as Paul whose prayer was his desire for God: I think that what we suffer in this life can never be compared to the glory, as yet unrevealed, which is waiting for us. The whole creation is eagerly awaiting for God to reveal his sons . Creation still retains the hope of being freed, like us, from its slavery to decadence, to enjoy the same freedom and glory as the children of God. From the beginning until now the entire 2 Encounters With S!lence (Westminster: Newman, 1965), p. 25. a Quoted by Thomas Merton, Zen and the Birds o] Appetite (New York: New Directions, 1968), p. 56. ~Seeds o[ Contemplation (Norfolk, Connecticut: New Directions, 1968), p. 133. ~ Ibid., p. 140. ~ The Complete Works of John of the Cross (Westminster: New-man, 1949), v. 1, p. 76. creation, as we know, has been groaning in one great act of giving birth; and not only creation, but all of us who possess the first fruits of the Spirit, we too groan inwardly as we wait for our bodies to be set free. For we must be content to hope that we shall be saved--our salvation is not in sight., it is something we must wait for with patience. The Spirit too comes to help us in our weakness. For when we cannot choose words in order to pray properly, the Spirit himself expresses our plea in a way that could never be put into words, and God who knows everything in our hearts knows perfectly well what he means.' These are the words of Paul who longed ~o be deliv-ered from this body of death and to be with God, Paul who wrote to his Philippians: "I want to be gone and be with Christ." s Thus, for a man who really desires God, prayer is no longer problematic, because we pray as we live. As Merton puts it: "As a man is, so he prays." 9 Thus the man who listens is he who is able to hear his own deep desire for God. He, the pilgrim, is able to say: "I want God and I want him more than anything else, and I will wait for him." This is what Teresa of Avila meant when she uttered her Deus solus sul~cit. It is this realization which is the substance of prayer. Following along these same lines, Karl Rahner says that the ulti-mate meaning of daily prayer is the awful waiting for the God we desire: "The prayer that You require of me," writes Rahner to God, "must be, ultimately, just a pa-tient waiting for You, a silent standing by until You, who are ever present in the inmost center of my being, open the gate to me from within." 10 For Rahner, being a listener, a pilgrim, was based on the realization that nothing on earth is worth abandon-ing oneself to it. Thus all life is one prayer, one long aspiring for God, like the lives of the wise virgins of the Gospel, si~ch that our eternal possession by God is the answer to our lifelong prayer, a prayer which basically is like that of John of the Cross: I live, yet no true life I know, And living thus expectantly, I die because I do not die Within myself no life I know And without God, I cannot live.n Out of our Augustinian restlessness-~our restless until they rest in thee--and out of our wholeness and for finality is born contemplati Thi~_ pr_~esupposes, of course, that we can hear~ ' Rorn 8:18-27. s Phil 1:23. ~No Man Is an Island (New York: Harcourt, Brace 1955), p. 42. 10 Rahner, Encounters, p. 24. ~ Works of John oI the Cross, v. 2, p. 450. hearts are ~unger for ve prayer. he cries of and World, 4- 4- + Prayer VOLUME 29, 1970 81I Sister Kristin REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 812 our hearts for wholeness. The penalty for failing to artic-ulate our inner longings for God, for failing to risk the often painful encounter with the unseen God within Us, is being doomed to live a boring, supercilious, superficial life. But none of us wants to live a superficial life, just as none of us wants to live a life devoid of prayer. The crucial question, then, is: How do we learn to listen, to live as pilgrims? How do we begin to utter the "I want God" which is the essence of contemplative prayer? Pascal says that we would not seek God unless He had ¯ already found us.12 This suggests that we cannot learn to desire God, because He must find us first. This suggests that John of the Cross was correct when he said thatthe soul that has union with God no longer has any methods of prayer, that within the limits of the supernatural there are no prescribed ways.13 Pascal's remark also suggests that we do not really learn to look for God; rather, we realize He is already within us. Seeking Him should be for us, as it wa~ for Paul, a continual realization that He has already found us, that He dwells within us. "Know you not," Paul virtually shouts out, that "you are the temples of the Spirit?" 14 Paul knew that God had found him, had loved him.15 As John said: "Christ first loved us." i~ Perhaps we do not have a tremendous desire for God because we have not been stripped of all else. That is why we cannot live as listeners, as pilgrims. 1 referred earlier to the necessity of detachment if we were to listen to the cries of our heart for God--lf we were to llve ~'s pilgrims. This emptiness means, I think, that we realize that just as love demands sacrifice, so prayer dhmands discipline, that we cannot live by our feelings and then call it fulfillment, that we cannot live by rationalizing and then call it hearing the Spirit. I think this ~mptiness means, too, that we must bear patiently even our inabil-ity to desire God. Only When we learn to suffer with our own inability to find Christ, only when we discover our own spiritual poverty and our own hunger for God, only when we learn to agonize over the whys of existence and God and self---only then will we have prepared the ground out of which the solitude of contemplation will grow, because on.ly then will we have learned to listen. It is~hard to learn to listen, hard to say "I want God" when we know that the very conditions of our finding God demand sacrifice: the sacrifice of regular, disciplined ~ Quoted by Louis Evely, That Man Is You (Westminster: New-man, 1964), p. 15. ,1, Works o] John oI the Cross, v. 2, p. 76. it Rom 8:9-11; I Cor 3:16. ~ Rom 5:8. 101 Jn 4:19. prayer, the saca-ifice of not trying to rely on an of prayer but only on faith, the sacrifice of "a ihg," as Rahner calls it,17 the sacrifice of reno that we possess, as Luke says,18 the sackifice of o dung what we used to call gain, as Paul says.19 All these forms of sacrifice are" what Cassian "purity of heart," what Christ meant when no man can serve two masters, what Merton using Zen to still the birds of appetite, wh~ Eckhart meant when he said: "To be a proper God and fit for God to act in, a man should a] from all things and actions, both inwardly wardly.20 In saying that detachment and mortification condition for the contemplative prayer ofa li: being a pilgrim, we enunciate the dictum of Jc Cross: Solitude is o;eated by an unsatisfie~ John of the Cross compares wrong desires tc which obstruct the sight of the soul,2~ and says hess that is uncreated cannot enter the soul, not first cast out that other created hunger whk to the desire of the soul; for . two contrari dwell in one person . " Yet, in spite of our knowledge that we will ne union with God in prayer without first emp hearts of other desires, this knowledge does cause us to desire God. On the contrary, it is dous grace, I think, for a person living in th~ lose interest in the things that absorb the discover in his own soul an appetite for po y methods ~vful wait-ancing all )unting as meant by said that meant by it Meister abode for so be fi:ee and out-is the pre- ;tener, for hn of the hunger. cataracts that "ful-l there be h belongs es cannot vet attain Lying our lOt alone a tremen-world to orld and 'erty and. solitude. How can we prepare ourselves to r~ zeive this gift of grace? I think we can begin, as Merton'says, by not trying to understand, explain, or produce a ~lesire for God or for contemplative prayer. Rather, we on ght to .try tq see, to listen . and this seeing and hearin experience, not rationality, out of which pray! How else can we learn to hear the pure ~ which is the threshold for prayer? Paul sugges~ learn to really listen to the Spirit when in th~ chapters of the first epistle to the Corinthians, guishes two types of wisdom. The first is a ~ words; it is rational and didlectical. The secon~ dom of the cross; it is experiential and para6 was the second sort of knowledge that Paul kne about Christ. The word of the cross is self-empt Rahner, Encounters, p. 2~. Lk 14:33. Phil 3:7-9. Quoted by Thomas Merton, Zen, p. 9. Works oI John oI the Cross, v. 1, pp. 42-3. Ibid., p. 36. is pure is born. Cperience how we first two .ae distin-isdom of is a wis- ~xical. It w told us ying, and ÷ ÷ Prayer VOLUME 29, 1970 813~ 4, 4. Sister Kristin REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 814 only it enables us to know in the Biblical sense of know-ing as possessing in the act of love. Those who love have a new logic of knowledge and from this new type of wisdom comes the experience which is prayer. But prayer, listening to the reality of all that happens, is not merely being aware of our desire for God and our condition of being pilgrims. Prayer is not only to love God above all things, but it is also to see him everywhere in all things. This was what Teilhard called "purity of heart." 2a That is, prayer also is a type of listening which looks outward and sees the world as filled with signs of God. It is tlfis type of prayer whose exercise demands that we al! be prophets, revealing the hidden things of God out of tangible happenings. This type of prayer is not problematic if one's world is shot through with God. But how do we listen such that our world is seen and heard as permeated with God? One way, I think, is to build on the crucial experiences of life, since prayer operates by means of issues which are ulti-mate in our lives. That is, prayer operates according to our systems of values. Prayer, or the lack of it, affirms what is, or what is not, important to us: That is, the happenings which drive us to the ground ques-tions about human existence and which elicit our deepest self commitments are., good preparations for deep prayer. We find in the profound experiences of love and creativity an in-tensification of our spiritual self-possession, accompanied by a lucid awareness of the contingency of our world, which is already an encounter with God. From such peak experiences we can slowly learn to feel how God is always present to our human action?~ Perhaps we cannot learn to pray because we cannot really see or hear. Perhaps we are too much a part of an age which is activistic rather than prayerful, pragmatic rather than spiritual, anthropocentric rather than theocentric, compromising rather than disciplined. Thomas Merton once wrote that if we were really look-ing for God,. every moment and every event would sow seeds of contemplation in our hearts.2~ That is, if our hearts were ready, we would see that "the words of the prophets are written on the subway walls and tenement halls" as Simon and Garfunkel say. All life would be a sign if we knew how to listen to God. How do we become prophets, so that we can listen to the signs of God that are heard in life? Perhaps one way of listening is conscience. Perhaps another is being aware of a seeking that is unsatisfied by material things. As we =Hymn of the Universe (New York: Harper and Row, 1965), p. 124. -"~ John Carmody, S.J., "Contemporary Faith and Prayer," Sisters Today, November 1967, p. 105. "~ Merton, Seeds, p. 18. passively search, or listen, we become aware of God's work in us and in the world around us and we respond. This response, is prayer, and it was brought about, as Scriptures say, by sleeping with our hearts awake.2~ And our heart is kept awake by love and discipline, by faith- [ulness to the insights of prayer, by watchful attention. This continual search is the 'condition of continued growth, and faith is the condition of continual search.27 For us to be prayerful, then, requires that we learn to see the world as prophets, as full of signs of God, and this requires faith. But what is the object of our faith and how is it attained? Jesus told us to seek and we would find, and yet He did not tell us what we would find. In fact He said there were no close directives for discovering His kingdom. It would come unawares; it was within . His coming would be like a lJlghtning flash.-~s If this is so, then perhaps all we can do is to be like watchful virgins, ready for the hour when His light and His prayer comes. Another way of being "ready" is, I think, to eliminate the defensivensss and self-protectiveness of our words, by opening ourselves to understand, by giving up the secu-rity of set words or positions. If we know how to listen, then a person who confronts us with angxy words is really saying he is afraid to love us. A person who says God does not exist is really saying no one ever made God meaning-ful to him. Listening this way means hearing God. And after all, (lid not God know how to listen? He loved us first, as John says.29 He became a slave so that we could be saved, as Paul says, and He loved us while we were yet sinners.~0 Why is it that we cannot see signs of God, that we do not know how to listen and to pray? Perhaps it is because Christ is not real enough for us . but how is he made real? One way, I think is by the way in which He gives shape to our lives by the vocation that we, with the Spirit, choose. This is because, for the Christian, love is the only absolute, and' our vocational dhoice and our prayer are both concrete ways of expressing this love. When Jesus prayed, it was always in response to His vocation; He prayed before choosing His Apostles, and before His passion and death. To pray in this way, as Christ prayed, demands that we listen to the signs of God in our vocational call. We pray for much ~he same rea-sons that we want to be religious: we want to preach God and to praise Him and to help bring forth His kingdom. ~ Canticle of Canticles 5:2. ~ See Rosemary Haughton, On Trying to Be Human (Springfield, Illinois: Templegate, 1966), p. 42. = Lk 17:24. .o0 1 Jn 4:19. ~o Phil 2:7; Rom 5:9. ÷ ÷ VOLUME 29, 1970 815 Si~ter Kristin REVIEW FOR,RELIGIOUS 816 We want to find Him. For these reasons we pray. For these reasons we are celibates living in community. Thus the surrender to God's will which characterizes listening prayer seems, identical with a resolve to go ahead vocationally with what we know we must do. And what we must do is necessitating precisely because it is a faithful expression of who we are. Prayer and vocation both say who we are; they constitute our identity, and they are both linked together. If we are faithful to who we a~e, then we listen. Then we do not have to run around trying to fill up people with. God, because we know He is already there, that we have already been redeemed. Then we are abl~ to make visible, in daily events, the fact that behind the anxious sincerity and idealism and capacity to love of most people is the face of Christ who loved us so much that He came to liye among us, that behind the dirty curtain of Viet-nam, and racial hatred, and all the ways in which we are insensitive to those with whom we live, is the face of the crucified Christ. This is the raw material of prayer, and knowing how to listen refines it into prayer. If we know how to listen, then we do not have to look at the world as if it were built in two stories: the first floor, the natural level, the second floor, the supernatural level. If we know how to listen, we do not have to try to depend upon laws or habits or practices or veils to speak, of God. Our love will do it for us. Instead, we can take the world as it is, lavished by God's love and our poor attempts to love, and see it as holy. I do not think the person of prayer, as prophet, is pietistic.or aloof or unapproachable; I think he or she is One who is able to recognize in all men the face of the Messiah, the one who, as prophet, is able to make visible what is hidden and hopeful the one who was without hope. Such a person is compassionate and merciful; he realizes that nothing human is alien, that something looks profane only because his eye is not sacred. Out of this human compassion, the heart of a true prophet is opened not only to his sisters and brothers, but to God. In listening to them, he can listen to the man of Galilee who called illiterate fishermen, who talked with learned Pharisees, who wept over Jerusalem, and who, finally,. had nowhere to lay His head. Jesu.s redeemed us, and if we listen, we know that. When we listen, we will become aware of all that is beautiful, that is one, that is in pain and anguish, of all that is holy, in the Body of Christ. With this awareness-- and we have to be aware--we go to the Father in the Spirit, and we praise Him and reverence Him and lift up to Him the suffering members of His Body. It is this awareness which is the door to deep personal prayer. In fact, contemplative prayer is a witness to a special type of awareness: that of faith. Here:, God is present to the self and the contemplative listener is called to live in a more intimate communication with that mystery. Just as de-tachment was the precondition for the prayer which was desire for God, so faith is the precondition for the prayer which sees God in all things. When we can live these two types of prayer, when we are both pilgrim and prophet, we can listen, and we hear precisely because we have stilled our own murmurings and hear Christ in others. When we are all this, we have, as John of the Cross says, both entered upon the road and left the road at the same time.al At this point we will have given God, not our feelings, not even our thoughts, but ourselves. And when we have done this, we can say with Rahner: "Your commission has become my very life. It ruthlessly claims all my energies for itself; it lives from my own life." az We can say with Paul: I am not my own any longer,as At this point, our prayer will be the utterly simple prayer of listening because we will be living and moving and having being in God. Prayer will happen because we pray as we live, and we must live as pilgrims and proph-ets. In the end, all I have said comes down to our living with the unshakable conviction, of those who wait, that now we see a dim reflection in a mirror, but that one day, one day, as Paul says?4 we will see face to face. Works ol John oI the Gross, v. 2, p. 70. Rahner, Encounters, p. 72. Philem I:10; Phil 3:12. 1 Cor 15:12. Prayer. VOLUME 29, 1970 817 JOHN O. MEANY AND SISTER MARJORIE CAREY, B.V.M. Psychology and "The Prayer of the Heart" J. O. Meany is as-sociate professor of. education and Sis-ter Marjorie teaches Russian at the Uni-versity of Notre Dame; Notre Dame, Indiana 48556; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Incredible as it may seem, there is an ancient Christian tradition of prayer which seems to be almost unknown to Christians in the West. How many Western Christians, for example, have heard of "The Prayer of the Heart"? This Eastern tradition of prayer, sometimes called "Hesy-chasm," may play an increasingly important role in the personal and interior "reformation" which is, hopefully, now taking place in the Roman Catholic Church in the West. There are changes emerging in the Western ap-proaches to prayer and to spiritual formation: a return to a more interior life of prayer and a personalistic and psychologically-conscious spirituality. In order to return to what is more basic and funda-mental in the psychology of prayer, it is essential that we distinguish between those particular aspects of Western Christianity which have been determined by our own unique culture(s) and traditions and, on the other hand, those aspects of prayer and spirituality which are, in an anthropological sense, relatively "culture-free," or more universal and fundamental. It may be difficult to com-pare. our own familiar forms of prayer and spirituality with those which are relatively more independent of our own experience and traditions, but only in this way can we obtain a new view of the primary sources of the basic Christian spirit. There are, of course, as many approaches to G6d as there are (from the human point of view) facets of His Being; and there are as many paths to Him as there are individuals whom He guides along these paths. For God is not limited by our limitations. He draws each individ-ual to Him in a unique way. Yet it seems that, however unique the way, God usually draws a person to Him by using that person's cultural and socio-economic back-ground. Eastern and Western traditions and personality characteristics differ; thus the mode of prayer of an East-ern Christian may seem to be radically different in ap-pearance, if not in reality, from that of a Western Chris-tian. In recent years, however, many young Westerners have turned to the East for new approaches to spirituality; they have found in some forms of Eastern spirituality-- particularly in Zen Buddhism and Yoga--new insights into themselves. Similarly, we, too, may come to see more clearly our own sources of spirituality, through an at-tempt to understand a different Christian tradition. In-deed, one seldom understands his own country until he has left it to travel abroad. | Historically, the Prayer of the Heart d~tes back to the fourth-century desert fathers of Egypt wh~ insisted on the ideal of continual prayer. The Prayer of/he Heart, often called the Jesus Prayer today, began to e~nerge in recog-nizable form during the fifth century; and the full text of the prayer can be found in the life of tl~e sixth-century Egyptian hermit, Abba Philemon. A coln~non~ expression of the Jesus Prayer, rhythmically said froth the heart, has bee,n,: "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me. This form of prayer can be descr!,b~d as: "Standing before God with the mind in the heart. | The roots of the Jesus Prayer are to belfound in Scrip-ture itself. The Jews of the Old Testarpent so revered Yahweh that His name was considered to [be an extension of His Person, a revelation of His Being.I This reverence for the name of God continues throughout the New Tes-tament: "At the na,m,,e of Jesus every kne~ should bow, in heaven and on earth (Phil 2:10). Indeed, lthe entire Jesus Prayer is existentially, as well as Biblically, oriented. Its similarity to two other Scriptural prayers is apparent: the prayer of the blind man, "Jesus, Son ~f David, have mercy on me" (Lk 18:38); and that of the [publican, "God be merciful to me a sinner" (Lk 18:13). In t!me, a body ,o,f traditio,n, al teachin~ c,a, lled "Hesy-chasm;' meaning quietness' or "reppse, grew up around the Jesus Prayer; and at least 'since the sixth century the tradition of the Jesus Prayer has influenced the spirituality of Eastern Christians. During three peri-ods of history the Jesus Prayer has been particularly in-fluential in the East: during the Golden Age of Hesy-chasm in fourteenth-century Byzantium .under the great theologian,. St. Gregory Palamas; during the Hesychast renaissance in Greece in the eighteenth century when the great anthology of Eastern spirituality, the Philokalia (love of the beautiful), was written; and during nine-teenth century Russia under Theophan the Recluse. To understand better how the Hesychast approach could contribute to the West, one might examine how it ÷ ÷ ÷ Prayer o] the Heart VOLUME 29, 1970 819 4. 4. 4. I. O. Meany and St. Marjmle REVJEW FOR REL]GIO0$ 82O has already contributed to the East; for example, how it has contributed to Russian spirituality, as that spirit has grown out of the environment and "national" character of the Russian people. The Russians are predominantly a silent people; this is evident in an old Russian custom: traditionally, whenever a member of an old Orthodox Russian family leaves on a journey, the entire family gathers in silence to pray. The family remains silent for several minutes; then the father rises to bless the family and each member of the family silently traces the Sign of the Cross on his forehead while facing the. family icon. Afte~ this paternal blessing, mutual blessings are ex-changed. This love of silence may also have led many Russian Christians to a contemplative life. There is also in the soul of the Russian people a primitive, almost naive simplicity; yet in this simplicity profound depths may be fathomed. Russian spirituality has been imbued with this simplicity which is so characteristic of the spirit of the Gospel. Their prayer life, too, has always been simple, without a complicated rational (or discursive) for-mula. Still another characteristic of the Russian peasant is his love of the rhythmic beauty of life--the" rhythm found in the cycles of nature and family life. This is especially apparent in the works of Tolstoy, who so com-pellingly depicted these cycles in his great epics, War and Peace and Anna Karenina. This love of rhythm, found also in Russian music, is clearly reflected in the rhythmic breathing of the "Jesus Prayer." One of the most obvious characteristics of the Russian peasant is his yearning for open and unlimited stretches of land. The geography of the land, therefore, influences the national character ofthe people, which in turn, af-fects the forms of their spirituality. The vast open areas of Siberia, the immense forests of the country, seems to have evoked a response to the Infinite which is reflected in personal religious experience. Because of this yearning for space, the Russian peasant has also been somewhat of a pilgrim. This, of c6urse, is true of many cultures and personalities; indeed, the whole history of man can be seen as a journey. Yet as Nicolas. Berdyaev points out, this spirit of the wanderer seems particularly characteristic of the Russian people. Through the centuries Russian pil-grims have traveled from afar in search of peace and spiritual renewal, visiting the famous cathedrals of Kiev, Novgorod, and other places of pilgrimage. They have traveled especially to those places where a "staretz," a man of God, prayer, and discernment, was still to be found. Thus, the innate yearning of the Russians for vast unlimited space has made them a nomadic people. This spirit of the wanderer, in search of truth, is .underscored in The VCay of a Pilgrim, a story of a Russian pilgrim who journeys forth, continually repeating the Jesus Prayer. This unknown Russian pilgrim has made the Eastern mode of prayer more available to Westerners through his personal religious experiences which are de-scribed in The Way o[ a Pilgrim and The Pilgrim ,Con-tinues His Way. The Jesus Prayer is a prayer that comes from the heart. It differs from the current Western and, perhaps, more cognitive approach to prayer; yet as St. Teresa of Avila points out, the important thing is not to have m~ny thoughts, but to have great love. Eastern Christians seem to have preserved the idea of the whole man: body and heart as well as mind and soul. This more total approach to "spirituality" seems to be meaningful for modern Westerners, as can be seen in the new orientation of such books as Harvey Cox's The Feast o[ Fools, Dechanet's Christian Yoga, Dom Aelred Graham's Zen Catholicism and Norman Brown's Love's Body. The difference in modes of prayer, then, between the East and the West is based not only on cultural and personality characteristics, but also on the different atti-. tudes toward man which are prevalent in the East and in the West. For centuries. Europeans and Americans have tended to emphasize man's rational nature; and since the Counter-Reformation, this emphasis has found expression not only in Western scientific methodology but also in various discursive "methods" of prayer, such as the Igna-tian, Sulpician, Salesian, and Ligourian. Descartes' dualism, or Western rationalism, has failed, however, to create in the (non-Westernized) East the head/heart dichotomy that it has fostered in the West. The traditional Russian peasant seems never to have lost his sense of wholeness. Eastern Christians seem to have preserved that broad perspective of "the whole man," an integrated body-heart-mind-soul. Perhaps the Zen scholar Daisetz T. Suzuki was right in contending that Western thought has erected barriers be-tween man and reality; barriers of concepts, imagery, cas-uistry, and reasoning. Consequently, instead of bringing us closer to reality, language has frequently separated us from it. For example, if a person rigidly decides not'to think about sex, he often finds himself unconscio~usly in-volved in it. There is a story of a Western theologian who decided to marry just after writing an elaborate treatise on celibacy; the theologian admitted that all his former theories had been "mental constructs." In terms of depth psychology, this type of theological "construct" might be seen as an intellectual defense, a defense which .broke down under the pressure of previously-denied (emotional and sense) experience. Repression fosters "acting out.:' Similarly, current Western existential "philosophy" can the Heart ,. VOLUME' 29,. 1970 :~" 82L ~. O. Meany and Sr. Mar]orie REVIEW FOR RELiGiOUS 822 be seen as an attempt to break through (defensive) logical constructs in order to come closer to the "living reality." The East, however, is in a sense, already "existential" and has been throughout its long history. Though recent Western theology has tended to be Cartesian or dualistic, the Russian has always been more at home with an existential or phenomenological ap-proach to God and prayer. The writings of Dostoevsky were influenced by Orthodox spirituality; this approach is often viewed as both intriguing and somewhat threat-ening to a Westerner, whose spiritual formation has o.ften been unconsciously conditioned by abstract ideals and logical categories. However, existeritialism and phenom-enology are beginning to have an impact in the West, through such Christian authors as Dietrich von Hilder-brand, Hubert Dom, Adrian Van Kaam, Gabriel Marcel, and Simone Weil. The existential and direct approach to God, although it is found in the prayers of the liturgies of the West, has always been a more living part of the consciousness of the Russian. The best aspects of tradi-tional Russian spirituality would not be interested in a rationalism or nominalism which would tend to separate love from human physical experience. But the worst in Russian Marxism might attempt to separate love from the physical world. Even as the human body can be seen as the outward expression of the inner soul, so also can icons, images, and incense be seen as an expression of the Church's inner spirituality. Thus the Russian prays with a pro-found sense of reverence; he seems to have a deep sense of ritual. In the Orthodox religion there is no Western-like sepa-ration between the liturgy and private prayer; no such Cartesian-like distinctions are made. This ancient Eastern tradition is similar to a relatively new trend in the West-ern liturgical movement which stresses the use of public liturgical prayers for private prayer. The scholarly jour-nal, Worship, has long stressed the value of liturgical meditations. We are not always conscious of the fact that much of our Western liturgy is an existential prayer, existential because it addresses God in the "here-and-now." For. Orthodox Christians there are no logical dis-tinctions between private and public prayer, just as for them there are no class or caste distinctions between monks and laymen. Husbands and wives, monks and nuns, all follow the same traditional and existential way of prayer. Love, not rules, is the focal point. Orthodox Christians do not feel that reading the Bible reflectively is a prayer, though they do not deny its value. Reflective reading often is predominantly a cognitive process unless the words are related to the feelings, fanta-sies, and senses of the "heart." Orthodox Christians re-gard their prayer as more of a total personal relationship to God, by praying "with the mind in the heart." At the risk of imposing Western categories on Ortho-dox spirituality, one might distinguish three forms of Orthodox prayer. First, bodily prayer which uses the pos-ture and the senses of the body. For example, one might bend his head so that his eyes can look at the place of the heart; he may try to become aware of his breathing in order to use its natural rhythm as an aid to concentration as he prays to God. Secondly, mental prayer in which the mind holds the "Word" in inward prayer, so that con-sciousness is expanded; thus one tries to center one's whole being on the "Word of God." And thirdly, there is the Prayer of the Heart. This last form of prayer is for Eastern Christians the highest form of prayer because in this way of praying the mind descends to the heart as it stands before God. The Orthodox feel that it is essential that the mind descend into the feelings and images of the heart during prayer although they realize that the heart, without the attention of the intellect, is blind. As St. Makarios of Egypt (4th century) said: "Descend into thy heart and there do battle with Satan." Thus the mind of the person descends into his heart to view his feelings, fantasies, and sensual experiences in order to choose those which are truly good and oppose those which are not. This process is different from that advocated by some western writers like Tanquerey. This process also pre-supposes a deep psychological openness to oneself, a non-defensive consciousness. Unlike many Westerners, the Eastern Christian does not try to use his intellectual constructs to keep the mind from the heart. Rather, he worships God with his heart and feelings which are, hope-fully, known by his mind. Thus the body and the inter-nal senses play a positive role in prayer, as it can in higher forms of Yoga. The conscious use of the body, as in dancing, could play a more important role in prayer and in the liturgy of the West. The purpose of the Jesus Prayer is to fill one's whole consciousness with the name of Jesus, just as St. Francis of Assisi spent a whole night in prayer rqpeating ever more deeply the Lord's name. Ideally, the head and the heart are thus united; conscious unity in the person is the goal of some modern psychologists and theologians. For example, the psychologist Carl Rogers describes the ide-ally "fully functioning person" as one who knows, exis-tentially, what his "heart" (or organism) is saying, and he can talk about his inner experience if he chooses to do so. The theologian, John S. Dunne, in his A Search [or God Prayer of the Heart VOLUME 29, 1970 823 ~. O. Mean~ and St. Mar]orie~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS in Tim.~ and Memory also stresses the value of a unity of thought, feeling a.nd action in the person, " ' .~ Through the centuries physical~ "exercise~ ~ind disci-plines such as fasting have been used to affect one's sciousness. In prayer, exercises and inner discipli.nes can" be used. to concentrate, one's being on the n.ame of. Jesus. But. one great danger in "prayer" is that words, or thoughts can be compulsively repeated, being motivated by unconscibus inner conflicts;, thus "prayer" could, be used defensively to avoid an inner growth of. conscious-ness and love. As in some forms of Yoga, the Jesus Prayer can be associated with the natural rhythm of breathing. Thus, this Hesychast"method of prayer uses the natural, not [orced rhythm of breathing or the .heartbeat to aid total intellectual and emotional conceritration on the name of Jesus; just.as a Westerner might use the beads of'a rosary ti~ c0ncefitrate on a mystery. By using his breathing to concentrate on the name of Jesus, the person may thus bring prayer more deeply into his ~hole being. Sponta-neous and relaxed breathing is used to bring one's atten-tion repeatedly back to the name of Jesus, which is then psychologically associated with the breath (and life) of the person. It is important to realize that these physical exercises are regarded as an aid to, not~ an obligation of, prhy'er. The Orthodox know well that there can be no physical or mechanical means of acquiring grace. No bod' ily nor physical techniques can be an automatic method of obtaining grace. Furthermore, they do not recommend the use of this form of prayer without proper guidance, or Spiritual direction, because it can cause sexual arousal, or it could possibly damage the lungs or body, if forced o~ used incorrectly. Associating one's prayers with the natural easy flow of one's breathing, however, is'a way of aiding the mind to descend into the body and the heart,' in an attempt to offer lovingly to God one's whole being (emotions, will, and attention) in the name of Jesus. Some practical applications of processes similar to this way of prayer are described in J. M. Dechanet's Christian Yoga. This book is one example of a modern application of "ancient wisdom to prayer. He includes a discussion of practical techniques for the "Prayer of the Heart." "On the Three Methods of Attention and Prayer"'is a treatise often attributed to St. Simon the New Theolo-gian. It makes clear that .there are three ways of prayer. The first way of prayer, used by an emotional person, would stress primarily the feeling approach to God with-out much stress on reason. A second ,,~ay of,prayer would stress the intellectual approach with thoughts-fighting-. thoughts because that person is relatively unaware of his emotions. The third and preferable way is an integration which would have the mind consciously descend into the heart so that the person takes a conscious position toward his own internal emotions and fantasies in order to love God with his whole mind, his whole heart, and his whole soul In recent years many young Americans--like Franny in Salinger's Franny and Zooey---have come to know some-thing of the Jesus Prayer, although it may easily be mis-interpreted as a mechanical spirituality. Its appeal for modern people may be due to several factors: its Christo-centric theme, its Scriptural base, its simplicity. Many may find in this way of prayer a human expression of their adoration and love of God. Others may find in its rhythmic breathing a meaningful way of "physically ex-pressing" their spirit. So, like Yoga, Zen, and other modes of Eastern spirituality, Orthodoxy may offer to the West another approach to prayer, perhaps another way of help-ing us to find our way back to the Christian Spirit. SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY AND SOURCES Arseniev, Nicolas. Russian Piety. London: Faith Press, 1964. Balthasar, Hans Urs von. Prayer. New York: Sheed and Ward, 1961. Berdiaev, Nicolas. The Russian Idea. New York: Macmillan, 1948. Chariton of Valamo, Igumen. The Art of Prayer. London: Faber and Faber, 1966. Dechanet, Jean Marie. Christian Yoga. New York: Harper and Row, 1960. Delmage, L. Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius. New York: Wagner, 1968. Diahonia, a journal edited by George Maloney, S.J. New York: Fordham University. Dunne, John S. A Search for God in Time and Memory. Toronto: Macmillan, 1969. Fedotov, George P. A Treasury of Russian Spirituality. London: Sheed and Ward, 1952. Hausherr, Iren~e. "La m~thode d'oraison h~sychaste," Orien-talia christiana, 1927. Loyola, Ignatius de. The Autobiography of St. Ignatius. New York: Benziger, 1900. Johnston, S.J., William. "Dialogue with Zen," Concilium, November 1969. Jung, Carl G. The Collected Worhs of Carl Jung, volumes 5 and 9. Princeton: Princeton University, 1968. Kadloubovsky, E. and Palmer, G. E. H. Early Fathers from the Philokalia. London: Faber and Faber, 1952. Kadloubovsky, E. and Palmer, G. E. H. Writings from the Philokalia on Prayer of the Heart. London: Faber and Faber, 1951. Mason, R.ussell E. Internal Perceptions and Bodily Function-ing. New York: International Universities Press, 1961. Nicodemus of the Holy Mountain. Unseen Warfare. London: Faber and Faber, 1952. Philips, Dewi Z. The Concept of Prayer. New York: Schocken, 1966. Prayer " o] the Heart VOLUME 2% 1970 825 Richardson, A. Mental Imagery. New York: Springer, 1969. Sofrony, Archimandrite. The Undistorted Image. London: Faith Press, 1958. Stolz, Karl R. The Psychology of Prayer. New York: Abingdon, 1923. Ware, Timothy. The Orthodox Church. Baltimore: Pelican, 1964. .~. O. Meany and St. Mar]orle REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS JONATHAN FOSTER, O.F.M. Some Notes on Hostility and Fidelity: The Religious Presence One of the most masterful and insightful commentaries on human aggression dates from the years immediately following World War I--Edna St. Vincent Millay's poign-ant little play, Aria da Capo. In the work's "play within a play," two friendly and unsophisticated shepherds under the direction of a stern stage manager set out to play a game in which they innocently build a wall between them and say "that over there belongs to me and over here to you." The game soon becomes deadly serious, however, and their friendship quickly deteriorates into suspicion and mistrust. At one point in the game, Thyrsis has a moment of sanity and beseeches Corydon.: "It is an ugly game. I hated it from the first. How did it start?" To which Corydon replies: "I do not know . I do not know. I think I am afraid of you! You are a strangerl I never set eyes on you before." Their fearful insight into the tragedy of their situation does not hinder them, how-ever, from plunging head-long into the "game" which ends in their mutual killing of each other for what the other has. The essence of the tragedy of human existence there-fore, as seen by Miss Millay, is the deterioration of trust. When man do not deliberately break trust with each other, society can be sweet and peaceful, as the shepherds in the play experienced it. For in the beginning, before the "game," they agreed in simple joy to "make a song about a lamb that thought himself a shepherd." But when .the wall goes up--and in the play it is only a streamer of tissue paper that Corydon cannot even find when he staggers toward his dead friend in his death agony--ignorance and misunderstanding build large, + + 4. Jonathan Foster is a member of St. Joseph's Franciscan Seminary; P.O. Box 449; Oak Brook; Il-linois 60521. VOLUME 29, 1970 827. ]. Foster,~ O.F.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 828 tricksome images that cast dark and suspicious shadows over the land. And it is when we encounter these suspi-cious shadows that:we begin to experience hostility, and too frequeritly this hostility bristles into violence. I would like to suggest here that the situation dramati-cally Conceived in Aria da Capo is .r~pidly coming to characterize the whole of American society and that the current easy attitude toward vows in religious life is con-tributing to this situation. ¯ There is an unease in the land, an .unease that increas-ingly expresses itself in polarized movements, bristles with hostility for its counterparts, and, with a regularity t.ha.t is ~c~asing to. ast.onish; b.reaks out into violence. The reason for this is hardly a simple onE;°but one of the most important factors, I believe, is the demise of trust under-lined by Miss Millay. It has long been known that violence, especially as carried out by children, is the mindless response to a betrayal of trust by those who should above all have been trustworthy--parents, brothers, sisters, friends. Most psy-chotic violence among grown-ups too is explainable in terms of betrayal and subsequent alienation. It is.not too much to suggest that the unease drifting through our country, the. increasing prickle of hostility, the growing threat of mass violence is largely a projection on a na-tional scale of this same betrayal o~ trust. There certainly has been such a betrayal in our public institutions. Our government and political leaders have been. found to be insincere so often and so damagingly that they, have generated powerful counter-political movements based on an-idealism that seeks to actually do that which government and presen( politics only profess tostand for. Business and labor time and.time again have been found out to be playing dirty games behind the bright chintz of public relations, advertising; and noble sentiments. The curtains have been jerked back a few times too often on all levels of education, to reveal admin-istrators and teachers .with their thumbs stuck in a few unsuspected pies. Even the hallowed judicial system has been seen to be as petty and partial as ward-heeling poli-ticians. Bishops and religious leaders with almost monot-onous regularity put on masks in the same dressing rooms with government,, and more and more of their subjects are sbe, ing under the make-up. ¯ Perhaps all this insincerity is not as new as it seems. But what is certainly new is the great number of people who know: about it. Mass journalism and historical schol-arship have had much to do with this public breast-bar-ing, "telling, it like it is," debunking and stripping down even ou~ heroes. And so, I suggest, the great question that expresses the malaise of. our society is: "Who ;can you trhst?" Th~ cynical crack is mor~ and more the language of the land. More and more like-minded'groups, search-ing for trust, turn within and band together. The result is fraCtionalization, polarization, hostility, violence. "I do not know you" becomes "I do not trust you." But this is hardly the whole story. As if it were not engugh that the public institutions of our, society are found not to wash under their public robes, we are facing now the deterioration of trust in the private institutions of our society. Personal rel~itionships 'of all kinds ,have B~en affected by the erosion of trust. The vows of mar-riage, "till death do us part,"'ard taken with increasingly l~gs seriousness. In the steady-dating relationship, too, boys and girls enter into quasi-matrimonial and even Sex-ual relationships, the basis of which is not ~rust, but usefulness ~ind convenience. But where this relationship is easi!y deceived into thinking itself meaningful, the no-torious "Playboy" relationship cynically strips away all pretense and encourages partners to enter the most trust-oriented of all relationships with the most callow mo-tives. And the infamous generation gap is not created just by misttnderstanding. It is created as much by the parents using this deepest and most responsibility-bearing rela-tionship as a means for their own advancement. Finally, there are religious vows. In the past history of religious life, the value of the vow for. society was preemi-nent. Today what is becoming of supreme value is the relevance of the vo;v for the individual religious. And if the taking of the vow, or the keeping of it even for a specified time much less for life, is similarly restricting, then it is not taken, or it is broken in view of some other commitment. The priority of the individual in the reli-gious taking of vows has become paramount in our day. What we are failing to understand at this point in the pendulum swing of religious commitment is that reli-gious life is perhaps the last social institution in which fidelity and trust are basic and honored, and that this perhaps says something about the witness of religious life in contemporary society. The absolute centrality of promises to the preservat~ion of the quality of human existence has been strongly stressed b);' various authors, bi~t none has made the case more' strongly than the philosopher, Hannah Arendt; In her book, The Human Condition, Miss Arendt pinpoints two factors essential to the preservation of~ life from chaos. The first is forgiveness, or the undoing of mistakes of the past. The second is the faculty to make and keep promises. The first obviously deals with the past. The second concerns the future. The ability to make promises and keep them builds on the reality.of forgiveness, and Mi~s Arendt always keeps the two together. But for our VOLUME 29; "1970 ' "" 829 ]. Foster, O.F.~I. ~EVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 830 purposes here, we must look especially close at what she says about promise. The making of promises is an expression of one of the most ancient needs of man. In fact the two great institu-tions of western society were built on promises. The Jew-ish- Christian religion grew out of the covenants of Abra-ham with God. And the Roman empire built a legal system on the inviolability of agreements and treaties. This is not surprising. For man's experience of himself in history has revealed a twofold "darkness." The first is his inability to rely on or have complete faith in himself: The second is the unpredictability of human events. And so man, both to insure his own survival and to make his society an increasingly hospitable one, from the very be-ginning has gone out to his fellowman in promise and covenant. He has come to rely on and count on his fel-lows. Promise is what holds society together and staves off barbarity, barbarity both in the forms of totalitarian domination and in the unstructured freedom of anarchy. Although Miss Arendt's primary purpose in treating the faculty of promise is to show that it lies at the very foundation of society, she does not ignore its value for the growth of the individual, which she sees in the con-text of the preservation of one's integrity: Without being bound in the fulfilment of promises, we would never be able to keep our identities; we would be con-demned to wander helplessly and without direction in the darkness of each man's lonely heart, caught in its contradic-tions and equivocalities--a darkness which only the light shed over the public realm through the presence of others, who con-firm the identity between the one who promises and the one who. fulfils can dispel" (The Human Condition, Doubleday Anchor Books, p. 21B). Promise combines with forgiveness, as Miss Arendt sees it, to form the basis of morality. For "these moral pre-cepts [forgiveness and promise] arise . directly out of the will to live together with others., and thus they are like control mechanisms built into the very faculty to start new and unending processes" (p. 221). It is here also that she stresses the creative and life-sustaining force of forgiveness and promise. For if we could not forgive mis-takes and if we could not re-establish firm bonds through promise, then society would be trapped by the "law of mortality" and would steadily wind itself down to death. Forgiveness and promise together make newness con-stantly possible. And as such they are the foundations for the Christian view of life--faith and hope: faith that is fidelity to the convenant, and hope that is created both in this fidelity and in forgiveness. What is important, I think, about Miss Arendt's com-ments is that they place the taking and keeping of vows not in the context of what it can do for the individual but rather of how the taking of vows enters into the very bloodstream of human society. She speaks eloquently of promise as confronting the "darkness" of human exist-ence, of staving off "ruin and destruction," of the "mira-cle that saves the world." She also cites Nietzsche's com-ment that promise is the very distinction which marks off human from animal life. It is precisely to this larger context therefore that we must shift some of our discus-sion of religious vows. Far from being an anachronistic kind of slavery exercised by religious orders to maintain their survival, religious vows must be seen, in Miss Arendt's perspective, as an expression of man's striving not only for survival, but for dignity as well. To further emphasize this perspective, we must focus very precisely on the kind of promises religious make. It is not a promise to complete the transaction of a deal, to run a hospital, to cook forever, or just to do anything. It is a promise to be, and as such a deep commitment and trust. We can forgive someone who does not keep a prom-ise to do something, and we can perhaps survive in a society in which this failure to deliver is relatively fre-quent. But how much can we tolerate of a society that ¯ does not keep its promises to be? When people make great commitments of personal loyalty and then opt out in large numbers, what effect, we must ask, does this have on society at large? And when they go a step further, frequently in justification, and refuse promise at all, or make expressions of loyalty that are weak, decidedly ter-minal and often vague and open-ended, what, we must fnrther ask, effect does this have on society? Does it weaken the ties between men? Is this abandonment of covenant intensifying in a' way that has not occurred to us at all the increasing lack of trust and rising hostility in our society? Does it raise again on a new front, and per-haps the last one, the question: "~¥ho can you connt on?" I suggest that religious have a serious responsibility to raise these issues. They are perhaps the last people in the world in which the free offering of total loyalty has been taken for granted as a matter of policy. Because of this professed commitment, they have been witnessing some-thing to the world, namely, that it is possible to be loyal and trustworthy on a grand scale. They have advanced the ideals of mankind a great milestone. And now sud-denly they have reversed this witness, first in practice, now in theory. The anger and resentment, shock and frustration of many people over the vast exodus from vows, now settling into a flat cynicism, comes as no sur-prise. Religious cannot simply dismiss this anger and cy-nicism with the comment: "They'll get used to it." This may very well be the tragedy we can least afford~that men should get used to it. ÷ ÷ VOLUME 29, 1970 831 ¯ Perhaps then if there is any validity tO these questions another dimension must be added to the mission of reli-gious today. If, as Miss Arendt suggests, the power of making and keeping promises is our bulwark against chaos or repression, if, as Nietszche asserts, fidelity is what distinguishes us from animals, then the question of vows is not merel.y a question of the internal life of a particu-lar community or of individual religious. It is joined to the very issue of human survival. My suggestion, then, is that as religious weigh' the relevance of taking of not taking vows, of their leaving or dissolution, to the per-sonal fulfilment of the individual religious, they also seri-ously discuss again the impact this same taking or aban-doning of vows has for society at large. The problems of the individual religious in an institute that he or she feels is inhibiting or irrelevant or itself unfaithful to its own profession are real eno.ugh to us. They have preoccupied religious for the past several years. But what about this same religious in relationship to a world in which indi-viduals and groups are drifting further and further apart 'because of the decay of trust and faithfulness? Do not religious perhaps have a mission here too? Today most religious orders, in their renewal, are concerned about "going out to the ~orld," trying to be relevant. It would be most ironic, not to say tragic, if what the world most needs, trust and loyalty, were precisely what religious are s'o busily unpacking and heaving overboard. ]. Foster,~O~F.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 832 KATHRYN LINDEMANN, O.P. Toward a Definition of "Communi " The problem. During the past few years there has been much debate among American religious concerning "community." "What is community?" and "What do you mean by community?" are two frequently heard ques-tions. This article does not attempt to totally resolve these questions since any further "total solutions" would only add to the present confusion. This paper does attempt to disentangle the discussion and to introduce clarifications which, will make resolu-tion possibl~. To this end it begins with a consideration of the present state of the issue. Then there is a non-po-lemic exposition of the meaning of "community" as found in current literature. Finally there is an indication of some still unanswered questions concerning "commun-ity" which seem important for continued progress toward a clear definition of "community." ¯ .4 first inquiry and a prol~ered solution. The fact that American religious are asking about "community" seems to indicate that they are aware of confusion and are seek-ing to remedy it. Confronted by this confusion, a normal query is: Why such a difficulty concerning "community"? One proffered solution has been to postulate something about the word itself~some attribute which defies defini-tion. "Community," like patriotism, becomes a Wittgen-steinian "slogan word" which is too ambiguous for defini-tion. Such a proposal is both logically unsound and a breeder of irrationality. If one analyzes it, one finds: 1. It accepts the generalization: "If x is a slogan word, then x precludes definition." 2. The postulation is then argued: since the definition of 'community' engenders much confusion, "com-munity" must be a slogan word. Since slogan words are indefinable, then "community" must be indefin-able. This is viciously circular. It assumes what it claims to ÷ Kathryn Linde-mann, O.P., lives at Mr. St. Mary Col-lege' in .,Newburgh, N.Y. 12550. VOLUME',29, '1970 . ~ ÷ ÷ Kathryn Linde- REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 834 prove. The statement of the generalization only acts as camouflage. If one wants to conclude that a slogan word is not definable, one cannot assume it is a slogan word because it is indefinable. In the practical order, the proposal leads to subjectiv: ism and a canonization of irrationality. If "community" is indefinable, then there is no procedure for discussing: what it is; what engenders it; what destroys it. Two indi-viduals have no way of ascertaining if they use the term with the same meaning. They are condemned to unknow-ing or subjectivism. Since rationality depends on com-monness, no rational procedures of discussion or decision are possible. Thus all those groups of American religious now committed to the conscious renewal of community can have no use for rationality in their endeavors. At best, community renewal needs to be relegated to some irrational force. A second proposal. The above is not the only possible explanation for the confusion concerning "community." There is also an explanatory avenue opened by the no-tion of the theory laden texture of terms. In Patterns of Discovery, Norman l~ussell Hanson explores the relation between theory and particular observations, facts, and terms. He contends that scientific observation, fact, and meaning are only possible within the context of a theory. Further, he holds that each of these three are theory determined. Thus, two men experiencing the same sense data of orange color patch moving upward through an orange tinted visual field at 6:50 a.m. Eastern Standard Time in Newburgh, New York, might observe two dif-ferent things. One operating in a Ptolemaic framework observes the sun rising. The other operating in a Coper-nican framework observes the earth turning. If each spoke of the "morning event," "morning event" would have, in a certain sense, a different meaning for each.1 Hanson often cites such theory determination of termi-nological meaning: If, in the blank pages of a next year's diary, we find the word 'fire' in the place reserved for St. Valentine's day, no action would suggest itself. Consider another man shouting 'Fire'; but now he is in uniform, hovering over a busy gun crew. Were we members of that crew, our response would be automatic . In other contexts 'fire' might herald a worker's dismissal, or the entrance of a Wagnerian soprano amid pyro-technics. It can signal a phase in the making of pottery, de-scribe how an actress reads her part, or designate some primi-tive rite . 'Fire' has, in each situation, a propositional force; it is shorthand for complex statements whose nature is clear from the contexts of utterance. We are not born able to recog-nize such contexts., for that we need education.2 X Norman Russell Hanson, Patterns o] Discovery (Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1965), pp. 7-8. 2 Ibid., p. 63. And again: When the youngster says 'lightning and thunder' he prob-ably means 'flash and rumble.' Again, a lot may follow, but what follows for him is different from what follows for the meteorologist--for whom 'lightning and thunder' probably means 'electrical discharge and aerial disturbance.' 8 ~lpplication to the question of community. In order to see the relation of this theory laden texture of terms to the present confusion among American religious, one needs to know something of the recent intellectual his-tory of religious groups. Since 1949 there has been what Thomas Kuhn would call a "paradigm shift" in religious life.4 Any comparative study of congregational constitu-tions of 1949 and 1969, of the 1949 and 1969 issues of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, or of books dealing with the theory of religious life from that span of years, gives multitudinous evidence of this paradigm change. In this paradigm shift, the term "community" is one which has been strongly affected. It has moved from a peripheral to a central position and has acquired a new extension. This change in "community" cannot be considered in isolation from the total theory of religious life. The change in meaning actually occurred as a result of changes in other areas of the theoretic system. A change of perception concerning certain areas made for new ways of seeing many other areas. And as the whole theory changed, each specific term was affected. Having noted the theory-laden-texture of terms and the fact of paradigm change in religious life, one can now locate reasons for the present confusion concerning "com-munity." These reasons are embedded in two specific fea-tures of the theoretical change among American religious. First, the change has not been a single-stroke event. Sec-ond, the "new theory~' has not yet reached stasis. First, the change in the religious life paradigm has not been a single stroke event. It is a process event whose history can be mapped. See Figure I. Given Theory A (the paradigm at n) and the innovations (I . I5), one finds a transformation in theory during stages n+l. n+5. The first outlines of Theory B become evident at stage n+5. Most often, one thinks of the theory only at stage n (theory A) or stage n+5 (theory B) since at these stages the theory is in stasis. These two stages represent "para-digms" as Kuhn refers to them and the change from paradigm A to parad@n B is a "revolution" in the Kuhnian sense. It is a fact, however, and one at which ~ Ibid., p. 61. 'Thomas Kuhn, The Structure o] Scientific Revolutions (Chi-cago: University of Chicago, 1962), pp. 43ff. ÷ ÷ + "Community" VOLUME 29, :970 835 Theory elements oO OoOo oo\o o\ o o -o n n-'l-1 n÷2 n+3 n÷4 n-~-5 Figure ] 4. 4. 4- Kathryn Linde. mann REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Kuhn hints several times, that the intermediary stages exist.5 Now, as is normal in the innovation and diffusion o[ ideas, all members o[ religious congregations do not ac-cept theoretic innovation or revision at the same rate.e Since the acceptance of theoretical innovations is not simultaneous and universal, different individuals within the total population o[ religious may be in different ~tages of theory revision at any given time (n+l. n+5). Since terms are theory determined, such members, being at different theoretic stages, mean different things by " com~munity." Since the dynamics of any change are seldom pondered at the same time as the change is occurring, given reli-gious are usually unaware of the specific theoretic stage they are in. Further, they may not realize that theirs is one stage in a process continuing toward a new paradigm and stasis.7 Thus, one has the situation in which individ-uals will notice that there .are apparent differences in meaning concerning "community" (or a number of other ~ Ibid., pp. 84-7, 89, 128-9. e Everett M. Rogers, Diffusion of Innovations (New York: Free Press, 1968). ~Note, for example, the many expressions of conviction among religious that there will never again be a stasis in religious life or theory. terms such as prayer, apostolate, or common life) but will be at a loss to either: articulate the differences with any precision, or to explain the differences through an enun-ciation of the theory which determines their meanings. This is a major source of the confitsion concerning "com-munity" at the present time. . Second, it is not until a theory approaches stasis that all the relations among particular elements are enunci-ated with any precision. To the extent that this precision is absent, there is an inescapable vagueness about any term endemic to the theory. Most congregations have enunciated the major outlines of the new paradigm in their constitutions. Yet all refer to their constitutional documents as interim or experi-mental, and all expect to produce a more finished prod-uct in a few years. Congregations have built in a time span for working out the practical and theoretic interre-lations among various elements,s The new paradigm is not yet articulated with full precision, and so a certain vagueness concerning a key term such as "community" is inescapable. Until this full precision is reached, a certain confusion will remain in the meaning and use of "com-munity." Summary. The theory laden texture of terms proposal succeeds in answering the first query concerning the why of the present confusion about "community," whereas the indefinability proposal did not. This theory laden texture notion indicates a double source of confusion: the simul-taneous operation of multiple versions of theories within the groups and the lack of precision in the newest theory because it has not yet reached stasis. Having dealt with the first query, the study needs to move on to the next: "How is 'community' defined in the new paradigm among religious?" ~ What Is "Community"? Method. To avoid arguing some of the philosophical issues attendant upon "meaning," "definition," or "expli-cation" this paper will approach the problem a poste-riori. There will be an examination of the literature for religious to see what meaning is already established in relation to "community." From this information, there will be an attempt at precise definition or explication. The two paradigms. The general accounts of "com- S As established in Ecclesiae sanctae, au apostolic letter issued on August 6, 1966, by Pope Paul VI (reprinted iu REVIEW FOR REL~CIoUS, V. 25 (1966), pp. 939--70. ~The meaning of "community" in the old paradigm has re-ceived adequate treatment by sociologists, historians, and theo-logians. The elements of the new paradigm, however, have seldo~n been subject to collection and analysis. ÷ ÷ ÷ "Community" VOLUME 29, 1970 - 837 + ÷ ÷ Kath~ Linde- REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS munity" diverge gr~eatly between the old (1949) and the new (1969) paradigms of religious life. Since a contrast often helps specify a complicated term, a general account of "community" as it appears in each of these basic theo-ries is presented first. When one studies old constitutions, those in effect in the forties and fifties, one finds: 1. The term "community" is rarely used. 2. When it is used it is capitalized as a proper noun-- denoting a particular (person, place or thing). 3. It seems to have a non-personal, "thing-like" quality common to collective nouns used in the "otherness" of the third person. 4. Sometimes the word designates a local group, while at other times it refers to an entire group. In the lat-ter instances, one mentally substitutes the word, "Congregation" or "Institute," both of which occur far more frequently in these early documents. Point four seems to strike the terminological core, for the meaning of "community" is primarily that of a hier-archical organization. Almost every sentence utilizing the Word "community" would retain its meaning if "organi-zation" were substituted. Further, the literary structure of these constitutions of the forties and fifties seems domi-nated by the organizational model. They set out goals; they cite organizational procedures for attaining the goals; and they define each person in terms of her role in the organization. They state the duties of the role (posi-tion in the organization), the prerequisites for possessing this role (be it that of an ordinary member or an officer), and the privileges of the role. The documents join a second model to that of hierar-chical organization. There is an interpersonal ideal of a familial society which is most compatible with that of a hierarcical organizational model. Officers are compared to parent figures. As such they ought to give and receive love and concern in a way which officers of an organiza-tion usually do not. Thus, in a unified model of hierar-chical- organization-family one provides an ideal for the lived situation of religious life. Newer constitutions, those of the sixties, present dif-ferent features: 1. "Community" is a common word; it appears time after time. 2. In most documents there is a definite distinction between community-as-organization and communi-ty- as-people. 3. Most, at least implicitly, deny "community" of the hierarchical organization model. "Community" de-notes, a primary group with strong interpersonal ties. This interpersonal notion is often extended to the congregation-as-community or the larger, civic, community. Although texts vary, the following is typical: Religious life is a loving community of free consecrated persons, sharing their lives, their worship, their service and their celibacy. A distinctive mark of the religious life is to be found in the fact that this living of Christ's life, this witnessing to His values, is lived corporately?° The function of a religious community is twofold. The first is to provide the climate for its members to grow to full stature as free persons in an ever deepening union with Christ, and for the sake of His Kingdom to be available to serve individually and corporately the needs of men. The second is to present a threefold witness in the eyes of the persons it serves: a living witness to Christ and His values, a sacrament of Christ's continued presence among men, and a sign of hope that community, which is the only mode of existence proper to men, can be a reality?1 When one looks for a model to explain this use of "community," one tends toward the community of scholars or St. Paul's my.stical body model. Religious community is the union of equals through interpersonal relationships. Each individual gives some service to the group: the serv-ice of authority, of information, of support, and so forth. Further the community itself is situated in relation to other communities. Religious community is always seen as a microcosm of the larger community of the Church and as such the religious community has an intimate re-lation to the People of God (Church) and the world com-munity.~ 2 Distinction. in terminology. Hence forward this paper will speak of the general account of community as found in the 1949 paradigm as "community1" and that in the 1969 paradigm as "community2". At present few religious make such an explicit distinc-tion. A single term, "community," is used for both mean-ings, although some religious are beginning to say that although both are called "community" only the 1969 paradigm expresses real community. Toward a Definition of "Community2" The term. In analyzing the common use of "community,;', one finds a distinction clearly made be-tween "having community2" and "being a community,". The latter is a wider term which necessarily includes the former. 10Sisters of the Third Order of St. Dominic of the Congregation of Our Lady of the Sacred Heart, Religious Lile: Lived Reality (Grand Rapids, Michigan: 1969), p. 4. n Ibid., p. 10. ~ Yves M. J. Congar, o.P., "The Theology of Religious Women," REv~w for RELIGIOUS, V. 19 (1960), p. 26. ÷ ÷ ÷ " ommunity" VOLUME 29, 1970 859 ÷ + + Kathryn Linde. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Having community,". The instances in which the term "having community2" is clearly applied reveal three nec-essary elements: a group of persons, united in sharing "goods," and either a resulting witness to Christian values or personal growth of some members. First, intuitions may indicate the last (witness or growth) as non-necessary, but when one discusses specific examples with members of religious congregations, one finds a hesitancy to apply "community2" to anything lack-ing a result in witness or personal growth. Confronted by an example exhibiting the first two characteristics of (1) a group and (2) sharing goods, which lacks, however, the third characteristic of witness or growth, members tend to say: "Maybe the witness or growth was really there but you didn't notice it"; or: "If there was no witness or growth you only thought you had community, but you really didn't." Hence this third characteristic is included as a necessary element for "having community2",is In pressing for precision, one finds that each of these characteristics is a term with its own range or extension: I. group of persons--extends to all persons united in groups, ranging from the smallest group of three to the largdst number so designatable. 2. sharing goods--extends to all goods, both internal and external, which can be shared by humans. In the context of "having community2" at least one internal good must be present, but any number of additional internal or external goods may be present also. 3. witness or personal growth extends to (1) all witness to Christian values and (2) all growth in personal maturity. "Having community2" is the term applied to the event which occurs when all three of these characteristics inter-sect. More formally. One may say that "x has community," if and only if: x is a group of persons; and there exists at least one y such that y is an internal good and x shares y; and either x gives witness to Christian values, or there is at least one z such that z is a member of the group's union in sharing and z grows in maturity as a result of this mem-bership. "Being a community2". When one examines the use of "being a community2" by religious, several crucial cases reveal themselves: 1. If a group "has community.o" frequently for several 18One is struck by the difficulty of making empirical observa-tions of personal growth or witness to othe,~. Yet this is how the term is used by religious. This study proposes to describe, to cite extension of terms, not to evaluate them as "true to reality," "false to reality," and so forth. weeks but then illness or work prohibits this "hav-ing community2" for awhile, no one denies the .group still is a community. All consider the non-hav-ang of community as a temporary condition which does not destroy the being-a-communi.ty of the group. On the othei: hand, all agree that an absence of "having community2" continued for a long enough period, would negate the gr9up's being a community. 2. If a group lives together for some time but shares little more than their domicile, no one designates them as "being a community2". 3. Groups experiencing two or three instances of in-tense "having-community2" are assigned a status of "being a community2" equivalent to other groups which have eight or nine experiences of community on a much lower level of intensity. To preserve these designations of being a community, this researcher proposes a function, C: frequency of having community X intensity of having communityt4 the total duration (or proposed duration) of the group All items having a C result of at least 0.3 are described as "being a community2". They fall in the extension of the tenn. Thus one can replace the externally vague term "being a community2" with the clearly defined one of "any x, where x is an item having a C function of at least 0.3." Some criticisms o[ the above analysis. There is much lacking in this whole analysis. This lack extends both to the theological and to the empirical dimensions of the discussion. First, theological aspects, for example, the cen-trality of Christ in community, are not explored in this rather philosophical approach. Yet these aspects are most important parts of the notion of community. Second, em-pirical aspects are incomplete. The method of finding the intensity of community noted in footnote 14 is inade-quate. Also, there have been no empirical studies to jus-tify, for example, the choice of 0.3 as the limit for "being a community2". Indeed, there is a lack of precise data for much of this discussion. The Task Remaining ÷+ American religious need to continue to explore this + notion of "community." They need to listen carefully to 1, The intensity of community is a function obtained by assign-ing positive integers to the elements contained in the range of each characteristic necessary for "having community.". The product of these integers indicates the level of intensity of "having com-munity.'. VOLUME 29, 1970 841 what others are saying about community and to note exactly where their statements agree and where they dif-fer. And when they find that they differ, religious need to be willing to continue the discussion. They need to find the reason for the differences. Sometimes it will be a false difference caused by incomplete communication of mean-ing. in other cases there may be a real difference. When religious reach the point of finding the exact differences, they are then keady to begin the honest dialogue common to every discipline which is alive and healthy. Out of such dialogue can come a truer understanding of '~com-munity" and perhaps a revitalization of their communal living. Perhaps, too, such dialogue will result in the reali-zation that although "community1" and "community2" have appeared as opposing theories, they are not antitheti-cal notions. They describe two different aspects of the same phenomenon. The above is an ambitious plan for religious. It is also difficult. Yet real analysis, the foe of polemic, is not only difficult it is very necessary. Emotivity makes poor theo-retic justification, and no theory can claim reasoned alle-giance if its advocates are not willing to utilize the pro-cessses of reason. Kathryn Lind¢- REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS RICHARD M. McKEON, S.J. Retirement Policy for Religious With an increasing number of people enjoying a longer span of life many religious should be alert to the fact that they too will hit the retiring age before they realize it. Yes, retirement for older religious is finally being recognized formally. To many retirement will come as a shock. They will think that they have reached tlae end of the line and that they will drift rapidly into the hereafter. It is time that all religious orders wake up to this new problem. They must have programs to acquaint their older members with all facets of what retirement means. In this respect a great deal can be learned from the world of industry where programs have been in effect for many years. Later we shall discuss some of these and try to apply their wisdom to our older religious. Superiors who are formulating programs must face this issue squarely. Why should the accumulated experience and developed talent be lost to apostolic endeavors merely because a certain age for retirement is at hand? Here is capital which should be yielding dividends. If older religious are forced to coast along waiting for Ga-briel's horn to summon them to give an account of their stewardship, that accounting will be harder to make. Time has value. Time lost is never regained: "Some secrets of the well-rounded retired life are these: make the most of what you have; wherever you are, go with your whole heart; keep your eye on what's coming up, not on what's slipping by; play your role with comeliness; do not let the minutes rust away" (Bank of Canada Monthly Letter, December 1967). It is presumed after long years in religion one has a true sense of values. Before retirement each one should assess his own possibilities and plan to achieve new goals. Many opportunities will arise to afford an active life within one's mental and physical condition. What do older religious in good health want? They Richard McKeon, S.J., teaches at Le Moyne College; Syr-acuse, N.Y. 13214. VOLUME 29, 1970 8~5 ÷ R. M. McKeon; Sd. REVIEW FOR REI~?IOU~S want to remain active and to do good as long as possible; to utilize their special talents; to receive the same respect they commanded in middle age. Rightfully they expect the functional policies and the traditions of religious life to be practiced in their regard. The older religious must be convinced of being heart-edly in earnest in what he can still do. Discouragement and difficulties will be challenges. He must have a firm resolve to carry on. If he has a reputation for special gifts, rightly may he expect others to approach him. To quote the Talmud: "If you see a man of understanding, get you betimes to him, and let your foot wear out the steps of his door." At least once a year, usually during retreat, he should make an honest appraisal of himself: "How is my health? Have I checked with a doctor? Have I reviewed my work of the past year to see what I have done well? What mistakes .have been made? What are my plans for the coming year? Have I determined to keep my mind alert, to keep feeding my mind by study so as to contribute to my up-to-dateness and the germination of ideas?" Richard Butler, O.P., warns: "Those approaching old age should prepare themselves for the trial ahead by strengthening their faith, patching up the holes in their characters, stiffening their self-reliance, developing new and sustaining interests, discovering orientations of ac-tivity that will endure and will provide some amount of satisfaction for them" (America, November 19, 1966). Good ideas can be picked up from ordinary literature on retirement. For men and women who have been highly educated and employed in apostolic work it would be better to study what is going on in the field of indus-try and business. Special research studies on retirement have been made at the California Institute of Technology, the University of Michigan, and the University of Chicago. The Caltech report suggests "a model program and a variety of ways in which it can be adapted to different company situa-tions." These studies are recommended to religious orders which are preparing programs. A digest of the program at Esso will afford some help-ful suggestions. First, changes in life expectancy are ex-plained. Then it tells how millions in the over 65 age group are non-productive but still consumers. In a word, when a worker retires, he is no longer productive to the country, profitable to the company, and useful to himself. Compulsory retirement is explained together with the benefits offered through social security and pensions. But more accent is placed on the sociological problem--how the retiree can be active, fruitful, and constructive. Esso offers help and counsel to each worker to think through his new situation. The company "feels that retirement is something earned by faithful service, a form of 'graduation' into a new phase of life rather than a 'casting out' process. Re-tirement should be the opportunity for the employee to enjoy the fruits of his labors in freedom, leisure and relaxation as well as an opportunity to serve himself, his family and his community in ways not open to him dur-ing his working career." A year before the set date group discussions are held covering topics such as health, planning for the future, what has been done, and so on. Plenty of appropriate literature is available. Each prospective retiree is pre-sented with a copy of How to Retire and Enjoy It by Ray Giles (McGraw-Hill). The Wall Street Journal frequently publishes articles on how retired executives keep busy, Their prime motiva-tion is not to make money for themselves, but to help others in trouble. Although some go into real estate and others start small businesses, many of the best become consultants as a challenging occupation. They form com-panies to give their specialized skills to small firms which need professional advice. The Mohawk Development Service of Schenectady, New York, has an excellent record of over twenty-five years. It is composed of former General Electric Company executives who have pooled their talent and experience. At Wilmington, Delaware, a similar group of Du Pont managers is engaged in a variety of projects. Charles H. Kellstadt retired as chairman of Sears, Roe-buck in 1962. At 72 in 1970 he is chairman and president of the General Development Corporation, one of Flori-da's largest land companies. He took over when things were in very bad shape. Today the corporation is most prosperous. His goal is to do a $250-million business a year. Religious orders should become a, cquainted with the International Executive Service Corps. Here is a magnifi-cent contribution which American executives are making in helping developing nations to help themselves. Its work should inspire qualified older religious to do some-thing similar to aid the foreign missions. The ISEC is a non-profit organization with headquar-ters in New York. It sends seasoned executives to counsel companies in the poorer lands. There is no salary but travel and living expenses are assured. Within the past five years a total of 1244 projects have been successfully completed in 45 countries. Optimism and the challenge of difficult problems have ÷ ÷ ÷ R. M. McKeon, $.l. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 846 given these men a new interest in life. They work with the native managers, not over them. Their know-how is eagerly sought. Using tact and patience they guide local managers to realize their own great potential Helping others to help themselves, who in turn will help thou-sands more, is certainly a high type of social action. Sylvia Porter in her column for December 16, 1969 paid tribute to the IESC and then put the question which might be put to older religious: "Why couldn't the con-cept be brought back home so that men and women in this age bracket work as volunteers in the ghetto and rural poverty areas of our own land?'" Our religious could make a great contribution here. "Life is only exciting when you are contributing in the mainstream." Keeping in mind what retired executives have done, let us make application to religious. First of all, those who have been superiors for a long time are still human. With a fair record of successful management, there is danger that many will regard themselves as indispensable. Every undertaker will contradict this statement. They have bur-ied too many. But to former superiors retirement does come as a shock. In industry it is maintained that compulsory retire-ment is the only way to clear out executive deadwood. Many of us know that it is a very touchy to mention possible retirement to an old superior: "Top manage-ment generally considers the subject as unmentionable as bereavement." Older religious might take a hint from the remark of a wise judge: "Retirement implies at least part of the motive power must originate in the person whose status is to be changed. Children are put to bed---adults retire." They should also remember that once the tension of their past job is over, arteriosclerosis might hit them with a stroke. Older religious should find comfort of mind if they have done their work faithfully in the past. As the time for retirement approaches, there should be no real repug-nance in letting quaIified younger people take over. If those in authority had signaled out men with executive ability and given them opportunity for training, there would be less trouble. Let us be blunt. Formerly, older people were respected, their advice was sought for, younger folk delighted to learn of their experiences. No longer in positions of au-thority, they soon find they are being ignored. Take a retiree who is removed from apostolic action which domi-nated his past life. Now assign him to a house for retirees as has been suggested. His health is still good. His mind is alert. But there is nothing to challenge it. He begins to feel unwanted, morose, and he gradually loses interest in things with which he was formerly associated. In such a state of mind death is bound to come more rapidly. In many universities and colleges religious teachers must retire when they reach the same age as set for lay teachers. Without a proper program they may be placed in isolation, as just noted, with no demand for their services. Edward F. Heenan, S.J., has written that many religious groups "have been increasingly enticed to adopt the bureaucratic business model in an effort to more effectively operationalize their goals." Retirement need not mean the end of the road. It should be accepted as a challenge. It means an awareness of the personal ability of the religious to perform, to continue .productively, and to make older life worth the living for one's self and others. Longfellow has put this Challenge attractively: For age is opportunity no less Than youth itself, though in another dress, And, as the evening twilight fades away, The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day. In the past a religious, like any other active person, got recognition and identity for the work he was doing. He could possess a just pride in his accomplishments. By the same token, when he does special work as a retiree, he should receive due praise. Many religious are truly hum-ble. Nevertheless all men appreciate recognition for any job well done. It does boost morale. On the other hand, there is the problem of rejection. To feel rejected, especially by those with whom one was closely associated, often causes a heavy strain on the nerves. It can easily make an older religious irritable and upset his health. We maintain it is a fatal mistake to put a healthy, older religious in a home for retirees. It will depress him. With nothing to challenge a once busy person he will rapidly decline in health, mental and physical. For example, if a religious has been at a college for the past ten or more years before retirement age, then we hold there is really a moral obligation to keep him as a member of the community as long as his health holds up. Why? Because to separate him from the familiar atmos-phere where he knows his fellow religious and they know him, from his friends on the faculty and from people in the local community would be dreadful in its conse-quences. It is here that he can continue to do more good than elsewhere: "Familiar things and places are priceless as we grow older--make no mistake about that." Dr. Edmund V. Cowdry, Washington University, St. Louis, an authority on gerontology, states: "More impor-tant than any other single factor is the old person's need Retirement VOLUME 29, 1970 for a community of interests. Nature seems to have or-dained that those who abdicate from life socially will soon abdicate from life physically." Where should there be a better community of interests than in the house where the religious has been living for years? Father Heenan remarks: "The closer the community approaches the communal idea of integrating and providing for the needs of every member, the more successful the aging process." A bureaucracy might be more efficient but it would tend to depersonalize and estrange the members. A mature religious should know that leisure for pleas-ure's sake alone will not bring happiness. But there is that approved pleasure which comes from doing good to others, especially the less fortunate. Instead of the deceits of idleness there can be a modified form of asceticism. There can be early rising with sincere attention to reli-gious duties. Planning for and being prudently busy with the needs of others will improve health. Two qualities will help the retirees: "They do enthusiastically .what-ever they are doing, and they get deepdown joy out of very simple things." Accordingly it is very foolish to think that retirement means the cessation of activities and merely a vegetating process. Retirement should be dynamic. One must beware of tyrannical trifles which can enslave. Too much televi-sion with its many insipid programs can mark a mental decline. In the 1955 Governor's Conference on the Aging in New York it was held that "religion is the key to a happy old age because man is essentially a spiritual and social bbing. The aged turn to religion even if they have been lax in their youth." What, then, Of men and women dedicated to God, who now have the time and conveni-ence to make up for past neglect because of distraction in the workingday world? There can be a renewal of spirit-ual life and a practice of reparation to gain grace to face bravely the reality of their new status. Since Vatican Council II changes in training have been made to meet the needs of younger religious. They have been very frank about what they need to be effective in a challenging new world. By the same token, older reli-gious should be outspoken in presenting their needs and claims. That is why at the young age of seventy-three I am writing this defense. R. M. McKeon, $.]. REVIEW FOR RELI{;IOUS 848 SISTER DOROTHY COONS, B.V.M. Life Style Study: Convent Li g This study of the pattern of religious living as it is carried out in the various convents of the Sisters of Char-ity of the Blessed Virgin Mary was undertaken as a part of a series of such studies of modern religious living that have been made in the past five years (see l~vmw for I~LIG~OUS, March 1970). The instrument used was constructed by Sister Cather-ine Leonard with the help of the other members of the Commission on Experimentation and Research, espe-cially Sister Helen Thompson and Sister Mary Kenneth Keller. The latter was responsible for processing the data on the computer. Questions Examined Four major questions gave direction to this study: To what extent do the sisters living in the traditional con-vent life style feel that this is providing them with necessary support in community living? What are the topics of concern in these convents? ¯ To what extent is there satisfaction or dissatisfaction with the life style, and what changes would be desirable in the cases where there is dissatisfaction? What are some of the general characteristics of the local communities in the areas of common liturgical experiences, in living arrangements, and in financial arrangements? Group Studied The questionnaires were sent to approximately 1800 sisters living in 153 convents. Those living in apartments and the patients in Marian Hall were not included. A total of almost 1300 sisters from 151 convents responded. According to the number of years in the congregation, the respondents fell into the following categories: ÷ Sister Dorothy Coom, BN.M., is chairman of [BVM] Commission on Ex-perimentation and Research at Clarke College; Dubuque, Iowa 52001. VOLUME 29, 1970' 849 Years in the Congregstion Number Percent 0-4 23 1.7 6.6 10-19 953 19.6 20-29 231 17.9 30-39 273 21.2 Over 40 415 32.1 $i~t~r D~rothy REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 850 This distribution is similar to that of the entire congre-gation with the exception of the oldest group who num-ber approximately 42% of the total. To a lesser degree the groups in the 5-10+ years differ from the general distri-bution because it is in these age groups that most of those living in apartments fall. In 49 of the 151 houses 100% of the sisters living there responded; 136 houses sent responses from more than half of the sisters; 15 houses were represented by less than half; and two did not return any of the questionnaires. Support in Community Provided by Convent Life Style Certain items on the questionnaire were included to bring out the general characteristics of "community," es-pecially those which provide mutual support for those living together. These questions and the results for both the congregation as a whole and when subdivided accord-ing to years in the congregation are given in Table I. While there are differences in the percentage responses to the positive questions, on the whole they are clearly above the 50% levels, ranging from 91.3% agreement with "Sisters seem concerned for one another" to 73.9% agreement with "Sisters like to be together" and "Com-munication among the sisters in our house is good." There is a similar picture shown by the disagreement with such negative items as "Money is a source of ten-sion" and "Communi.ty life suffers because the sisters are out doing other things." There is a surprising degree of agreement on the items that reflect a supportive atmos-phere among the various age groups. Figure 1, for exam-ple, shows that there is a high degree of agreement among all age categories on the item, "Communication is good," and that the disagreement is slightly higher among those in the 5-9 and 10-19 year group. There is also a slightly higher rate of disagreement on the part of the sisters in the 5-9 years in the congregation on the item: "Sisters plan together or in groups things that the whole house will enjoy," as shown in Figure 2. On the other hand, one of the most significant items, "Sisters in the house seem concerned for one another," shows fairly uniform agree-ment and disagreement in all age groups. See Figure 3. On a somewhat similar item: "Sisters like to be together," the pattern of responses is different. See Figure 4. + + + % 100 75 50 25 0 [] Agree [] Disagree O- 5- 10- 20- 30- Over 4 9 19 29 39 40 Years in the Community Figure 1. Communication is Eood. % 100 75 5O 25 O, 0- 5- 10- 20- 30- Over 4 9 19 29 39 40 Years in the Community Figure 2. Sisters plan to-gether. % lOO 75 50 25 o 0- 5- 10- 20- 30- Over 4 9 19 29 39 40 Years in the Community Figure 3. Sisters seem con-cerned for one another. % lOOI 75 5O 25 0- 5- 10- 20- 30- Over 4 9 19 29 39 40 Years in the Community Figure 4. Sisters like to be together. + + + Sister Dorothy REVIEW.FOR RELIGIOUS 852 The two items that would ideally be answered by disa-greement, "Money is a source of tension," and "Commun-ity life suffers because the sisters are out so often doing other.things," showed unexpected results. The similarity of the results for both agreement and disagreement as shown in Figure 5 suggests that, at least among those responding to the questionnaire, money is not the prob-lem that it is generally thought to be. Figure 6 shows a higher percentage of agreement on the item, "Commun-ity life suffers because the sisters are out so often doing other things," among the older age groups. While this might have been expected, the actual difference is not as great as could have been predicted. Topics of Concern It was hoped that areas of concern could be identified by the items that are frequently topics of discussion. These were found to cover the whole range of those sug-gested, with the following results according to frequency: % 100 75 5O 25 0 % 1 O0I 75' O- 5- 10- 20- 30- Over O- 5- 10- 20- 30- Over 4 9 19 29 39 40 4 9 19 29 39 40 Years in the Community Years in the Community Figure 5. Money is a source of tension. Figure 6. Community life suffers because sisters are out so often doing other things. religious life (72%), world news (68%), house problems (68%), the Church (67%), problems of the larger BVM congregation (67%), students and their families (57%), peace and war (56%), and U.S. political issues (53%). Others were indicated as being topics of discussion by fewer than half of the respondents, with hair and clothes being in lower positions than the items of general con-cern in the world, in the country, and in the congrega-tion. Satisfaction and Dissatisfaction The question, "Given your preference, and the absence of any practical consideration that would require other-wise, would you continue to live next year under the same life style," was answered "Yes" by 947 sisters (73%) and "No" by 259 or 20%. Those who answered "No" were asked to check the form of living that they would prefer and the item most often checked was "More regu-lar daily schedule of prayer and house activity." This preference was indicated by. 138 or 10.7% of those an-swering, while the second highest condition checked was "With persons who are more congenial." The results of this section of the questionnaire were broken down in a comparison with the items that were thought to reflect "community" and the results seemed somewhat indefinite. In general, those who would prefer to remain in the same life style had higher "Agree" scores on the positive items and lower "Disagree" scores on those that were negative, and the opposite was true of those who wished to change life styles. For example, on the question, "Communication among the sisters is good," of those who would remain in the same life style, 77% agreed to the statement and 12% disagreed, while among those who would change to another life style 36% -I. + + VOLUME 29, 1970 853 ÷ .÷ ÷ Sister Dorothy REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 854 agreed to the statement and 54% disagreed. There were similar combinations of "agreement" and "disagreement" in the breakdowns of this item with "The sisters often plan together or in groups things that the whole house will enjoy," "Sisters in the house seem concerned for one another," and "Sisters in the house seem ~o like to be together." It is not clear to what extent these differences provide explanations for the desire to change life styles. There may be other explanations not touched upon by tl~is study. Characteristics of Local Communities Part I of the instrument was completed by the Com-munity Representative in each of the convents. No pat-tern of common prayer and liturgical experiences emerged. This might be due to the large number of un-answered items and to uncertainty in interpreting them. The most frequently checked item was "Celebration of the Eucharist" but the range of responses suggests that there were different interpretations to the question; for example, 25 Community Representatives checked "Sel-dom or never." This seems to indicate that there was uncertainty about whether it meant convent chapel or parish church, fora response of 100% daily celebration the Eucharist might have been expected. The rosary is still recited daily in 48 houses with an indication in 24 of them that most of the sisters attend. Vespers is said daily in 43 houses with 23 reporting that most attend. The changing pattern of prayer in the congregation is shown in Table II. Responses on the items concerning financial arrange-ments show the greatest possible variation in meeting most of the ordinary expenses. The sources include com-mon funds, personal stipend, parish, and school, and there were few items that did not fall into each of these. See Table III for items that are included, for the most part, in the three most general categories. Discussion--Interpretative Summary The study of the foregoing material and other details that were not included in the present report seem to provide a message of encouragement. It is evident that those who answered this questionnaire are, in large meas-ure, content in the convent living life style and that they feel their living situation provides them with the condi-tions for personal support that are necessary for Christian community living. A further reason for encouragement lies in the fact that, with few exceptions in the 5-19 year groups, there is no marked disagreement among the var-ious age groups in the congregation. Examination of the results of individual convents TABLE II Frequency and Attendance of Rosary and of Communal Prayer as Reported by Comraunity Representatives k,- Occ~-[Se)do=/ ~ost ~ ] Pew "__._~_~" ~ '_____~_~ s ionMl~y N eve_~_r A tten~ A tten~ 2tte2d Communal Prayerl~l~l~[~l~l~[- ~ TABLE III Methods of Meeting Ordinary Expenses as Shown by Responses of Community Representatives Common Fund Personal Stipend Both Common Fund and Personal Stipend Board/room Per capita Cook Mass stipends Gifts Insurance Spiritual reading books Household expenses Education Medical and dental Clothing Personal travel Entertainment Toll/long dis-tance telephone calls Non-prescription drugs Home visits Memberships/dues Refreshments other than meals Books other than spir-itual Carfare Use of car Professional travel showed great variation in tendencies toward general posi-tive and negative impressions. At this time, no definite score for rati

Issue 21.4 of the Review for Religious, 1962. ; ALOYSIUS J. MEHR, O.S.C. Community Exercises in Religious Life Introduction: The Religious Community in Perspec-tive The religious communityx exists within two wider communities from which it draws its own unique vitality and significance. These two communities--forming one kingdom of God--are the Church and the total human world. Both are immeasurably deep and charged with dynamism; and we cannot arrive at an adequate grasp of the significance of community exercises in religious life unless we see the posture of our own particular commu-nity within these two great communities which are great covenants, the covenant of creation and the cove-nant of Christ. The religious community, however, is not related to the Church and the world only extrinsically as though these formed some kind of background or framework out-side of the community. Kather, the religious community exists at the point of encounter between two great lines of force and destiny which are the Church and the world. Its being calls out to the total human Community from which it arises and in whose service it acts; and its being is a response, deep and creative, to the call of the Word of God. The religious community sums up, symbolizes, and is an eikon of the human community and of the Church. The religious community, therefore, arises from the depths of creation, from the depths of life, lost in the eons of the life's growth itself.2 We carry on the work of crea- 2 This paper was written for and delivered at the international convention on Crosier spirituality held at Maaseik, Belgium, July 24-26, 1961. It has been revised so as to make it applicable to re-ligious communities in genera!. 2 Teilhard de Chardin, The Phenomenon of Man, translated by. Bernard Wall (New york: Harper, 1959); The Divine Milieu, trans-lated by Bernard Wall (New York: Harper, 1960). Hans Urs yon 4. 4. Aloysius J. Mehr, O.S.C., is on the faculty of Crosier House of Studies, Route 1, Wallen Road, Fort Wayne 8, Indiana. VOLUME 21, 1962 30! 4" Aloysius Mehr, O.~.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS tion, converging, as Teilhard sees it, to a kind of world unity in which all things are synthesized into community,a The direction of the history of life has moved through phases of biology ("biogenesis") into the world of incar-nate spirits ("noogenesis"); and in the New Covenant this force is caught up in the moment of the Resurrection, present among us as a pledge of the final entry into the glory of the Lord (kabod Yahweh). Our community-being, our being-together (Mitsein in Heidegger's termi-nology) is thus wrapped up in the forces and destinies of life, surging on in space-time towards its fullness, the seed of which it carries in itself at the present. Moreover, our community-being is also wrapped up in the fulfillment of creation, the new creation in Christ who draws all to the parousial and paschal destiny of all creation--a destiny that is already sacramentally present in a community called together in the Eucharistic sacrificial meal. These are undoubtedly far-reaching and difficult themes the full significance of which will always remain inaccessible to us, lost behind the veil of the future and the inscrutable destinies of man in the divine plan. We must expect, then, that any discussion of the religious community must, in its ultimate significance, shadow off into mystery. We shall not be able to lay out the forces in us as problems which can be solved, here and now, once and for all times. Community-being is essentially dynamic: we, as men and as religious, are homines vi-atores. Our fellowship in God is an eikon--an image, a sign, a symbol--of the Church localized in our areas of concern, but the Church which is the people of God on the march (in via), creating (in/ieri) what we most deeply are unto fullness in Christ who fulfills all in all (Eph 1:23; Jas 1:18). From this viewpoint we are able to see, or rather to begin to see, the profound significance of community exercises. Community exercises are the historical and temporal incarnations of our being-together (Mitsein). There is a deep and vast need, truly an ontological need, a need arising from our being-together, for authentic community activity that emanates from the inexhaust-ible fullness of our being.4 What we are demands suc-cessive real-ization; our being overflows into our life. Activity, operatio, exercise--these are not on some pe-riphery of the real, bu~ rather incarnations in the fabric of the real world. Man is embodied soul and besouled body. His existence is incarnate existence, caught up in Balthasar, Science, Religion, and Christianity, translated by Hilda Graef (London: Bums and Oates0 1958). s Teilhard develops this theme in The Phenomenon of Man: ~ Gabriel Marcel, Homo Fiator, translated by Emma Crawford (Chicago: Regnery0 1955), p. 26. solidarity with the corporeal universe but transcending it as spirit.5 Human being demands expression; as in-carnate, it is essentially temporal, basically historical, realizing itself further and more fully in successive and authentic encounters with the real--in the mysteries of birth, death, conversion, sickness, and above all, love.~ This paper is, first of all, a re-investigation of certain societal universals--relationships of persons which are the anthropological, sociological, and theological binding forces which help to produce a healthy and fruitful com-munity. The term "relationship" will be used more fre-quently than "community exercises" or "community ac-tivities." This, however, should not confuse the reader. An activity has social implications and social value if it is a relationship to others. The fact, therefore, that we will not group our material under the usual headings like "prayer life" or "recreations" or "the apostolate" should not tempt the reader to conclude that we are not speaking of things usually thought of as "community ex-ercises." We will speak primarily about the unifying forces, the community-building potential of community exercises, whether these be a simple conversation, a rec-reation, the Mass, superior-subject relationships, pro-fessional relationships of instructors with students, or even the exercise of talent in a "private" way within the community. It would be wrong to see as binding forces only those activities in which all of us perform the same movements or say the same words. On the other hand, community and society can hardly exist where there is no mutual a.ctivity, no common involvement of all the members in some fruitful, meaningful task. Finally, this analysis of communal activities precisely in their unifying value views the religious community in its objective, intersubjective, and Christian dimension. Part I: Community in Social Patterns To an anthropologist7 a very significant characteristic of the monastic community is that it is a celibate, reli-giously oriented institution'. This is without precedent or parallel in primitive or preliterate culture. In general, as the society becomes progressively complex,, certain indi-a Von Balthasar .develops this theme in his book Science, Religion, and Christianity. e Gabriel Marcel, The Philosophy O] Existence, translated by 4. Manya Harari (New York: Philosophical Library, 1949)', p. 6. 7The Reverend Alphonse Sowada, OiS.C., received his master's degree in anthropology from the Catholic University of America, Community Washington, D.C., in the spring o[ 1961. In an interview with the Exercises Reverend Ronald Kidd, O.S.C., he initiated in outline form the following analysis of the monastic community based, on anthropo-logical procedure. Father Sowada is'presently working in the New Guinea Mission, VOLUME 21, 1962 3O3 ÷ ÷ ÷ Aloysius Mehr, O$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 3O4 viduals are set aside solely for religious activity. Hence the phenomenon even of the Israelitic priestly office, given to the tribe of Levi, suggests a somewhat highly developed social complexus. Furthermore, sexual prac-tices become restricted for religious specialists only in civilized, cultured society. The religious community, com-bining both factors, arises only late in the development of a people. This unique development suggests various problems: a separation from the elemental and primitive social binding forces, perhaps a tendency towards over-com-plexity and hyper-specialization, in general, a danger of an ever greater artificiality. Man-to-Nature Relationships The ecological system comprises the sum total of the man-to-nature relationships in a given social organiza-tion. It comprises all the activities by which these people make a living--how they satisfy their elemental needs from nature. Thus, the supplying of food, the manufac-ture of clothing, the realm of technology, and attendant organizations and belief are .elements in an ecological system. In primitive societies, these are the concern of everyone; social organizations and belief patterns (treated in the following sections of this paper) arise from this common involvement in wresting an existence from na-ture. The ecological system forms the foundation for the actual social forms of the people. In the religious community, participation in this basic, elemental social activity is often frustrated. The general pattern is the specialization of ecological functions; they are more often than not entrusted to a few--the prior,,;, procurators, and other superiors. As a result, the remain-ing members of the community lack this elemental bind-ing force with one another and with the community as a whole. This can easily lead to frustration, complacency, and eventually create parasites within the community, In this connection it should be noted that the work of those religious who are engaged in manual labor almost exclusively is much more in line with the needs expressed in an ecological system, provided that they are truly a part of the community in which and for which they work. In order to utilize this natural, social binding force, these religious must feel themselves solidly within the whole community. They should experience the same satisfaction that the son or daughter enjoys when they begin to co-operate with their parents in providing a livelihood for the family. The social bindings formed by the ecological system are intense and deep. For the clerical and teaching members of a community, there is also a need for an acceptable way either to fulfill this function or to find an adequate substitute. The apostolate might seem like a perfect substitute. But in the apostolate the results are apt to be too far distant for the immediate kind of satisfaction caused by common involvement in providing the basic necessities of life. In fact, where superiors or subjects try to make' apostolic work an "acceptable" sublimation, the very 'remoteness of results can tend precisely to create further frustration and complacency. '~ In general, any project in which personal initiative is called into play within and for the community and in which a sense of fulfillment can be forthcoming ~can be used as a substitute. Such projects are of great value in binding together the religious,community. Stress should be placed°especially on the matter of results; for example, graduation, profession, and ordination days should be planned wisely to be days of community joy in accom-plishment rather than of relief in being through with tedious work. Although effective substitutes depend on both subjects and superiors, it is the superiors, above all, who must see the absolute need for them. Individual ~religious may have the initiative to make valuable .suggestions, but :the only person who can integrate these suggested projects into the community and give them their full social force is ,the superior. Without due attention, the community moves towards increasingly artificial social forms, lacking and attempting to substitute for, the basic level of social solidarity. In order to have a healthy community, we must find effective and meaningful substitutes. Man-to-Man Relationships Next, we deal with interpersonal relationships, en-compassing social ability and practice, questions of status and hierarchy in the communal organization, questions of law regulating interpersonal behavior, family orienta-tion, pressure groups, informal and formal groupings. This is the area of personal response and personal: activ-ity~ phenomena that vary with,each individual. Consid-eration of the interpersonal relationships are of 'utmost importance in analyzing the social structure of a com-munity; they form the operative and dynamic structure of society. Perhaps the most evident charact~eristic of interpersonal relations within the religious community is its thorough structure ot control. First of all, everyone knows every-one else and every individual can control his response thereby. Moreover, the social control within our unique form of community is almost familial or patriarchal. This is a good basis for developed social organization. In a healthy community a person is a part of things, 4. + + Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 305 ÷ Aloysim OM.e~h.Cr., REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS he knows what is expected of him, he is not bewildered or lost within the crowd. He is at home, he knows how to approach everyone else, he knows how to regulate topics of conversation, to account for individual differ-ences, to accept the particular interests of the other mem-bers of the religious society. He enjoys that ecce quam bonum feeling which is a natural result of being [ul_ly ac-cepted by the group. He belongs to them, uncondition-ally; they are happy to have him and would be distressed at losing him. As. a further consequence, he feels shel-tered, contented, and can gradually abandon all his poor little defensive mechhnisms as well as the defects of. char-acter which necessitate them. All his potential gifts can flower, he can. give himself up confidently to his most generous aspirations. Such. :are the blessings which accrue to an individual who lives in a healthy group definitely ready to accept him.s There are, however, definite dangers in our communal make-up. The first and perhaps most serious danger is that of artificiality--artificially controlled responses. To the extent that responses become too automatic, too pat, too set, too taken-for-granted, the very situation which ought to promote solidarity could conceivably destroy it. Responses must be genuine; meaningless responses are detrimental to community. The artificiality of community llfe can be much re-lieved by warm parental and fraternal relationships be-tween superiors and subjects, instructors and students, and, above all, between equals. This fosters the character formation that ordinarily occurs within the family. Con-sequently, everyone must take his role in community seriously; he must be open, understanding, sympathetic, and avoid meaningless responses and inflexibility policy in the name of functional efficiency. Professors ought to be aware of the fact that attitudes built up by personal relationships with students are as important as the material being taught. On the other hand, students must realize that they have much to learn and that their attitude towards their instructors is extremely important. Entering. into dialogue is always a two way street. Within the community deep and authentic friendships should be fostered, for personality grows in proportion as it is opened to others. Fear of friendship shatters munity and leaves only a group of isolated introverts living in the same building. Mistaken notions of partic, ular friendship have forced many a religious to lead an unnecessarily lonely life. Authentic friendship means that I am genuinely con-e Communal Lile, translated by a Religious of the Sacred Heart (Westminster: Newman, 1957), p. 267. cerned with my neighbor as a person. When interest is only pretended, people instinctively feel that they are be-ing treated, not as human beings, but as a case, an object, an It. Make-believe interest, pharisaical interest does more harm than good. Every Christian, and certainly every religious, should be conscious of the manyreasons why he should be deeply and genuinely interested in his neighbor in all places and at all times. Another danger in our communal make-up presents it-self where subjects refuse to cooperate with their supe-rior, or where incapable men are invested with status-power. In primitive tribes, subjects who refuse to work with their superior are simply eliminated. Moreover, a leader who blunders in personal relations or in tribal projects, for example, failing to bring off a hunting raid successfully, loses prestige ipso facto. But in our com-munity, the social status of the members is not easily changed. This has its advantages and disadvantages. More permanent social relationships can be formed so as to .give the individuals a greater security and to give the social order a basic stability. On the other hand, where poor relat!onships are formed, this situation too tends to perpetuate itself. Overspecialization is another factor which endangers solidarity in a community. Anthropologists distinguish between diversification, which can lead to mutual de-pendence and promote solidarity, and specialization, in which a member withdraws himself from the community in order to devote his time and energies to some partlc-ular field. In primitive societies, specialists share perforce a vast number of tribal interests: the medicine man is interested in the buffalo hunt and thereby enjoys a social binding to the hunters; he is involved in wars and raids since his status to some extent depends on a perpetuation of the present social organization. In general, in primitive cul-tures, bindings between religious functions and the re-mainder of tribal functions are very strong. But when society develops, it tends to free itself more and more from nature (the ecological system); and it does so only to become more and more dependent upon man and man-to-man relations. This dependence must serve as a constructive and not a destructive force. In order to prevent diversification--which is absolutely necessary in a complex society--from becoming special-ization, we must manifest and recognize on a community level our mutual dependence; for example, the very real dependence of one teacher upon all the others. Here we see the importance of faculty meetings in which the par-ticular field of competence of one person is seen as com-plementing that of another. There are many ways of Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 196Z ÷ ÷ ÷ Aloysius Mehr~ O.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS keeping different interests and fields of competence from becoming divisive. Perhaps greater stress should be placed on the apostolate as a community apostolate, a common effort, accomplished in different ways by each individual, but without thereby becoming any less communal in in-spiration, motivation, and reality. An awareness of our mutual dependence is absolutely necessary for the proper integration of personal activity towards our social goals. Interpersonal relationships in the religious community include not only individual-to-individual relations but also those of groups.-A formal grouping is one which is established de [acto and is recognized by the society as exercising a certain control of the whole. Chapters, councils, a faculty, special committees for accreditation, and so forth are all formal groupings. Informal groupings are not officially set up or estab-lished. We see examples of informal groupings during common recreation periods or when some religious work together informally as a group. Informal groupings can at times exercise more influence than the formal group-ings; that is especially true if the formal groupings are inoperative or if the i.nterrelationships between formal groupings is neglected. It is in the informal groupings that public opinion is formed and in many cases social innovation begins. The informal groupings should pro-vide much of the initiative and dynamism necessary for any society to be alive, to grow and develop, and to keep in touch with the members and their real needs and as-pirations. While informal groupings are very important, formal groupings are even more important in a religious com-munity; ours is by its nature a hierarchical society, and one strongly so. Therefore the effective functioning of our formal groupings is especially important for the vi-tality of the entire community. Inoperative formal group-ings, or artificiality in formal ,groupings, invites seg-mentation of the society, then disintegration, and finally demoralization. The history of the American Indian is an extreme case of precisely this. Factors leading to inoperative formal groupings are many. Among them are age differences, lack of precise definitions of ideals, and immaturity. For a well-function-ing community, superiors-,must be willing to present straightforward proposals to their councils or others' whose advice they are to seek. This means the full pres-entation of real cases that involve discussion and choice, not simply decisions for'ratification.9 In short, he must seek to collaborate. Also, he must have the humility and wisdom to consider minority positions; seeking support Ibid., pp. 270-273. only in numbers infallibly excites mistrust, resentment, opposition, or utter indit~erence. "The prudent and most efficient thing for the superior to do is to make the group share, from the beginning, in the common task.''1° Cooperation between formal and informal groupings is of the essence in achieving a healthy, vital c0mmufiity. This means that we must understand the roles which these groups are to play within, the community. More-over, since the religious community is so strongly hier-archical and the superior tO a large extent controls the interrelationships between formal and informal group-ings, he should be doubly alert, astute, and comprehend-ing in regard to the ideas generated in the informal groupings.Suspicion on the part of a superior is harmful to the vitality of the community, kills personal initiative, and tends again to artificial substitutions and the seg-mentation of the community fabric. But beyond this a superior must have the ability to select appropriate ideas from the informal groupingsmthose ideas which will prove beneficial to the community. It is difficult to re-spect a superior who accepts every suggestion that is of-fered to him or proves that he does not have the ability to choose well. In a primitive society he would in that eventuality lose status. Man-to-Ideals Relationships Under this heading we find community purpose and sense of purpose. In primitive society religion ferments the whole society. And certainly community goals, re-ligious ideals, can and should be important unifying fac-tors in a religious community. It is worthy of note here that in primitive ~ociety where the satisfying of the basic needs has such a prominent role, the upper echelons tend to have the same ideals as those of lower status, the .young as the old, the specialists as those engaged in community projects. When the eco-logical needs become less urgent and the man=to-man relationships more important, it becomes more difficult for all to have the same ideals. But the religious commun-ity should be able to realize this unity of ideals in a way that other communities in contemporary life cannot. In a religious community we-ness will tend to be established by living according to a unique set of ideals--provided the ideals are well defined. Our fellowship, as we will see later, is a unique fellowship in Godl For social vitality and solidarity, it is better to define ideals clearly and energetically and then, as the need arises, to modify them than not to define them at all or to define .them haphazardly or casually. Searching for Ibid., p. 270. 4" 4" CEoxm~misuensity VOLUME 21, 1962 309 4. 4. dloysius OM.Se.hCr,., REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ideals has little social result. Without well-defined, known, and accepted objectives, ideals will be fashioned individually and in groups; this leads directly to com-munity segmentation. In this situation, the very factors which in a healthy social organization cause solidarity and vitality have the el~ect instead of segmenting the community. Ideals must and will be formed. If the proper formal grouping will not define them, it is inevitable that informal groupings will attempt to fill this lack. Community goals and ideals, however, cannot be al-lowed to stagnate. Once they have been defined, they must be re-defined as social changes and new needs make themselves felt. In this sense, it is only by innovation that society can maintain its health and well-being. For these reasons, our ideals require constant modification and elaboration to insure their continued adequacy for the very real and growing society which they both reflect and form. Furthermore, wise inter-group relationships constitutd community dynamisms and insure that the social structures of the community are truly alive and' changing--that the incarnations of the community ideals are true responses to the appeals of the era and the per~ sons, that the community continues to be constituted through history in its response to the Word, that its voca-tion continues to be authentic. It is in this context that tradition possesses real meaning. One group, which is n.aturally the most capable of really fruitful effort in this direction, is the meetings oE the various spiritual directors on a regional or inter-national basis. Undoubtedly much good could be ac-complished by regular and well-prepared meetings of these spiritual leaders in each order or congregation. Each meeting should consist oE a series of scholarly papers followed by serious discussion. Here again, we should point out the grave responsibit-ity of superiors. Upon their shoulders must rest a good portion of the burden of keeping goals alive and develop-ing with the community itself. But this responsibility can-not be placed solely upon the superiors. For a society to develop, all should participate in the re-discovery of old ideals and the formation of new. Community is a "we"; its responsibilities are no less communal than the end which they serve. If a religious suffers from abnormal loneliness, an anthropologist would immediately look for some need which is neither being fulfilled nor et~ectively substituted for. Where such a condition exists, the man is not livit~g a whole life; and attempting to live a half life tends to-wards increasing frustration. The only effective remedy in such a case, according to anthropologists, is the real-istic integration of our activities by directing them mean- ingfully towards the specific and ,well-defined goals of our community. Any notable incidence of real loneliness will probably reveal upon careful .investigation some rupture in the social structure of the whole community-- whether ecological, man-to-man, or man-to-ideals, More-, over, from the fact that our society is in 'itself artificial to a certain extent (lacking almost necessarily the deep and elemental bindings of an ecological involvement), we must be doubly aware of the other unifying forces within our community. Part H: Community and Personal Creativity ~ Patterns of social organization are vital, without the slightest doubt. Much. of our actual failure to realize deeply and meaningfully fellowship with one another in a brother-to-brother relationship stems from the neglect or mismanagement of the social structure of our com-munity. Yet the religious community---even considered only as a deep community of men--is not simply cre-ated by experts. The expert manipulates, controls, studies problems, and finds solutions; but his union with his tools and the particular determined purposes of his craft is extrinsic. We can think in" this connection of the over-organiza-tion of working communes as they sprang upsince the last world war. Here, everything is functionalized--all the activities are planned out, with time alloted on the schedule for religion, recreation, and so forth, which are considered as necessary means for overhauling the ma-chine periodically. When people begin to see their lives coincide with the routines planned for them, when they see themselves and their own importance diminish to the level of cogs in a machine, their spirits harden, atrophy, and wither. Life becomes less than free in the sense that activities are not flowing from the deepest levels of being. They become re.ore and more a number in a filing system. This is no doubt an extreme case. But we must reso-lutely resist the temptation to reduce man simply to an aggregate of psychic functions and forget that he is a living soul. In my relations with the men in my com-munity, I am involved. My actions should not tend to build a wall of separation between the me I know myself to be and others. Given the thorough system of social con-trols characteristic of religious life, given too a life that is frequently arranged by my superiors, the most common temptation is to avoid reaching out in true personal ap-peal to the other in all his unique personality, but to see both him and myself as [unctions--a teacher, student, cook, carpenter, Mass-sayer (a cog in a machi'ne can never pray), a procurator, or sflperior. The conclusion we have been working towards is this: ÷ ÷ Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 dloysius Meh~, O.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS community is not established by merely legislating laws, setting up a hierarchy of superiors.and subjects, or giving a dozen human beings a common residence. Nor can it be produced by a system' of techniques. Community must grow out of its members, for it is a highly personal gift of oneself to the other person in all the richness of his individuality. While techniques cannot produce community, they are nevertheless valuable in eliminating those things which could prevent community from happening; for example, enclosure within myself, being trapped, as it were, in a system of concentric circles which stand between me and my life. Furthermore, techniques are undoubtedly neces-sary for the effective accomplishment of particular, goals; for example, organizing a sports program requires some manipulating of people. But teamwork still remains a union based on something outside of the being of the other person;, while it may be a true degree of community, it is still not the fullness of human community, let alone: of fellowship in the word and love of God. "Community," Martin Buber .writes, '"is where com-munity happens.TM There is something in genuine meet-ing which extends beyond calculations, plans, and proj-ects. Just as my being is not definitely exhausted in any one particulai'ity of my life but overflows into promise and possibility,12 rooted in my existence and its destiny, so also the community is never definitely established, en-tirely a "given" factor, a.status; Community, the genuine union of beings, is created out of the depths of promise of my bei~ng. It is not pro-duced. Community is meeting; and that meeting which calls to the other from all that I am is essentially creative: something new happens, I become something that I was only potentially before, and in this connection I must think in terms of gilt or grace. I can remain open to re-ceive this gift of the other as long as I am not artificially isolated from my own being in a world of function; but somehow we are here in a realm in which the notions of cause and effect no longer apply with their full import--. I do not cause dialogue. Even more, in a very real sense, I am given to myself fully only in dialogue, in the gift of another self calling out to me, joining our lives in com-mon destiny and hope. "All real life :is meeting.''13 The energies of life become fully real only in community: [ am the possibility, even more, the promise of community in my most elemental reality as incarnate spirit. r~Between Man and Man, translated by Ronald Gregor Smith (Boston: Beacon, 1955), p. 31. '~ Marcel, Homo Viator, p. 26. ~ Martin Bub~r, I and Thou, translated by Ronald Gregor Smith (New York: Scribner's, 1958), p. 11. Hence community--and in a unique way, the religious community--fulfills a basic demand (exigence in French) of human being. The ability to say We, the possibility of genuine encounter presupposes beings who can love and give themselves to others, beings who are incarnati.ons of the spirit which man i~, a spirit embodied iia'spake.and time, in solidarity with the cosmos and the covenant of creation. The human spirit can be stifled for just so long--a time and a time and half a time of the Scrip-tures-- within the abstractions and reductions of a func-tionalized world which, we repeat, is a real danger in a religious community due to the artificiality and conven-tionalisms so easily developed in such a life. But in the well-chosen words of Gabriel Marcel, it seems, at least as far as man is concerned, tha~ even if life is weakened and in a way degraded, it must still retain a certain character of sacredness . We must accordingly realize, I think, that here we are faced with a~ certain absolute, and that this absolute must be assisted, however strong the temptation to resist it?' Man's spirit seeks the fullness of being, the fulfillment of its destiny.15 Even in the midst of degradation or open rebellion, the voice of his spirit calls out for authentic living. Rebellion is a call to another to answer my appeal, to respond, knowing that even if I fail, at least my call will go on being heard. Although many unfavorable things can be said about rebellion, yet we must admit that it is still authentic living. As Camus has written, "I rebel--therefore we are,''x~ In modern religious life, the danger is not primarily open rebellion. With us, frustration more frequently takes the place of rebellion. We begin with high ideals, but, after encountering many difficulties and meeting with many failures, it is easy for us to lose courage, to be-come despondent and frustrated. The principal cause of this frustration is the lack of understanding one's own abilities, strength, and weakness, Being frustrated, religious enclose themsdves within a shell of their own creation; they try to circumvent the full meaning of their vocation. Frustration is a flight from authentic living, and that is the reason why frus-trated religious try to escape and lose themselves in rou-tine or a ceaseless merry-go-round of activities. Here we see, or begin to see, the ontological.significance of frus-tration, despondency, and defense mechanisms--the psy- ~ The Mystery ol Being, translated by G. S. Fraser (Chicago: Regnery, 1950), v. 2, pp. 182-188. x~ Marcel, The Philosophy ol Existence, p. 4 a0Albert Camus, The Rebel, translated by Anthony Bower (New York: Vintage Books, 1959), p. 22. ÷ ÷ ÷ Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 Aloydm 0M.$eh.~r., REV~EWFOR RELIG;OUS chological and sociological ruptures which prevent com-munity from happening. It is in this context that we propose to re-investigate the three relationships already viewed on the anthro-pological level: my relationship to things, to other peo-ple, and to ideals. Creative Community and Things 1. Art. In our mechanized world, things are considered more and' more as means, even pure means (bona utilia), apart from myself, only accidentally and, ontologically speaking, haphazz'rdly coming into contact with me. Their own values are, for me, simply utilitarian. I fail to see in them the mystery of creation in which I also am essentially involved. Art, beauty--these are simply esoteric tinsel, luxuries for the functional man. In a way this man is only half a man, and hence only half himself, begrudging those energies of life with which his created and corporeal being is essentially in communion.,x7 It would be almost meaningless to tell such a man that his activities are incarnations of his being, for he has denied any essential involvement in this universe of space and time.xs When I live out of harmony with myself and the deep community of creation in which I am, which 'is my world, my environment, my ontological context, how can I truly give myself to another? Furthermore, how can a com-munity that is out of harmony with creation be worthy of being presented to Yahweh in the Eucharistic assembly as the sign of His pleroma? The famous American painter, Ben Shahn, writes: I have always believed that the character of a society is largely shaped and unified by its great creative works, that a society is molded upon its epics, and that it imagines in terms of its cre-' ated things--its cathedrals, its works of art, its musical treas-ures, its literary and philosophic works. One might say that a public may be so unified because the highly personal experi-ence (of the artist) is held in common by the many individual members of the public. The great moment at which Oedipus in his remorse tears out his eyes is a private moment--one of deepest inward emotion. And yet that emotion, produced by art, and many other such private and profound emotions, ex-periences, and images bound together the Greek people into a great civilization, and bound others all .over the earth to them for all time to come.1D Art brings into play the unifying forces of creation but' at a deeper, more subjective, and thoroughly personal~ a~ Von Balthasar, Science, Religion, and Christianity, p. 45. a~Bernard Haring, C.SS.R., The Law o] Christ, translated by Edwin G. Kaiser, C.PP.S, (Westminster: Newman, 1961), v. 1, p. 87. ag Ben Shahn, Shape o] Content (New York: Vintage Books, 1960), pp. 45-46. level. Lacking a developed and fully shared ecological sys-tem, the religious-community unity depends on other re-lations to our world, activities of creativeness, ingenuity, activities which produce "results," or better, activities in which my being sees fruition in the corporeal world in which I am. The point is that we should not i~eglect the unifying force of art, the union of persons in the beauti-ful, in the shared experience of meaningful incarnation. But the attitude of encounter with the beautiful is not limited to what we call the fine arts. If I pick up a chisel, it is simply a tool which I use to perform some task. Con-sider, however, the difference when a highly skilled artist or carpenter picks up a chisel. His work expresses him-self, gives himself to the community. Here we return to the general theme of these 'pages: df community is to happ.en, I must give mysel[, and not simply offer the other some service which I perform. In art--from garden-ing to the liturgical setting--I give myself, I entrust to the community that deep and personal experience of creativ-ity. In accepting another's art, we "welcome" him. To welcome is active, personal, embracing. I go out of my-self to meet the other, to invite him to feel at home with me. We cannot merely accept the other's art, whatever it may be, as we accept the result of an assembly line. To accept his art, I must reach out and take his work into my own life; and by doing so I take him, too, into my life. And here again we glimpse a moment when com-munity happens. If a community does not accept the beautiful, it neglects an important binding force--a neglect which will tend to re-appear in personal encounters. Without the proper at-titude toward art, even the deep significance of liturgical symbolism and expression will lose some of the vitality which it was meant to have. The community chapel, above all, should be a masterpiece of art, expressing community, proclaiming the fellowship in God which we are. 2. Play. Finally, we should consider more deeply the meaning of play. Perhaps play is not the deepest of the arts, but it is a true creative expression of man.2° Play is of its nature public. "Through play we find ourselves no longer imprisoned and isolated in our own individual-ity.'' 21 Play "is act in its spontaneity, acting in its very activity, the living impulse.''~ As a vital phenomenon or manifestation of human being, play--to be genuine-- demands a man in contact with reality; "only the vital Eugene Fink, "The Ontology of Pla}'," Philosophy Today, v. 4 (1960), pp. 95-109. Ibid., p. 96. Ibid., p. 97. ÷ + ÷ Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 315 4. 4" 4- A~oysius Meh~, 0.$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS being., can die, work, struggle, love, and play. Only such a being is in touch With surrounding reality and the total environment--the world.''u3 Humanplay . is a creation through the medium of pleasure of a world of imaginary acuv~ty . Play ~s always character, ized by an element of representation (something like the real world and its rules, but never degrading into routine). This element determines its meaning. It then effects a transfigura-tion: life becomes peaceful.~' In our own world, play is apt to be a highly organized, commercial project; and here again its mea'ning tends to become more and more functionalized---I play, not for delight, but in order to preserve physical and psychic health. If we would look for a moment at the primitive world, we would find far more significant contours: In the primitive times, play was not practiced so much as an act in its pleasure-giving aspect as is the case for those isolated individuals or groups who periodically detach themselves from the social group to inhabit their own little isle of passing hap-piness. Originally, play was the strongest unifying force. It founded a community quite different, it is true, from that of the living and the dead, the governing and the governed, and even from that based on the family. The community of play of primitive man included all the forms and structures of com-mon life., and it called forth a reliving of all the elements of life. This reached its high point in the community festival. The ancient feast., was a liturgical spectacle where man ex-perienced the proximity of the gods, heroes, the dead, and where he found himself in the presence of all the beneficent and dreadful powers of the universe . What was represented was nothing less than the whole universe.= Genuine play is extremely important in a religiou:; community. We will develop this point further in Part III where we will see that community recreation should serve as a catechesis of the proper celeb'ration of the~ Eucharistic festival--the Mass. Inter-personal Creativity: Intersub]ectivity Community exercises are significant only in as far as they involve an encounier with the Thou. This is the point, above all others, which we must remember. This is the heart of the matter. Divorced from all genuine en-counter with the Thou, community exercises are mean-ingless. In our very proximity, it is easy for me--because of routine, fatigue, and so forth---to consider my confrere less and less as a person (a Thou) and more and more ;ts an object (an It). An object is contained within itself, something which I can possess and manipulate. A person Ibid. Ibid., pp. 104-105. Ibid., pp. 105-106. is a being to whom I can call out, whom I can invoke, who is able to return my call, and in our response to each other create community. I can say "We." But to approach the other in his own unique being and destiny, in all that makes him himself, I myself must be a presence to him. Self-consciousness atrophies,, encloses me in .myself; we may be with one another physically and temporarily, but we have not yet realized Mitsein, that full union in love and welcome where deep calls out to deep. Without doubt, our lives and our encounters with one another tend to form stereotyped patterns. In accordance with our rule and constitutions,~l meet others at certain determined places and at set times. We are joined to-gether for specific purposes: prayer, recreation, work, in short, every conceivable type of community exercise. In a way there is constant community. I am very little in real solitude whether before God or before men. The students whom I teach in the classroom, the community for whom I cook or for whom I build cabinets, the confreres with whom I watch television--these are certainly beings with whom I exist; and even though I cannot speak of the re-ligious life as being entirely or ~even properly speaking functionalized, yet frequently there is something in the other which I am neglecting. P~r~haps 1 am polite and courteous: I smile at the other and laugh at his jokes; I try to understand his problems and offer him sympathy-- and still; perhaps, we stand more in juxtaposition than in community. But there are moments when this half-face to the 'world breaks down, hours of.grace (kairos.in St. John) in which the possibility of far deeper community is suddenly revealed. It is then that we see individuals in an entirely new perspective and their presence becomes more mean-ingful to us. A time of community crisis can draw us to-gether in this way, and we learn to depend on a confrere as he is, and not just in what he does---or better, what he does incarnates what he is. The world from which our candidates come has been well described as a broken world.20 This factor must be kept in mind while considering, the present-day prob-lems of religigus life. Older forms of unity have been gradually breaking down--the family, for instance, has been to a great extent replaced by the peer group, the gang, the more casual associations. Political and techno-logical unions have become strong~ r, suggesting a growth 'in world unity. But frequently, ~he new unions which have sprung up are on the impersonal plane; technol-ogy, for. example, unites the worlO" because cultural dif- ~ Marcel, The Mystery o! Being, v. 1; pp. 22-47. The title used for this chapter is "A Broken World." ~ 4. 4. 4. Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 317 + Aloysius Mehr, O.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 318 ferences do not prevent a person from working a machine; in principle any one at all can learn this operation. But "any one at all," l'on,.das Man, does not exist. What exists are real people, individual, free beings, irreplace-able in the solitude of their liberty. In those moments of human existence in which I some-how transcend the world of mechanisms, I sense another dimension which I know to be more basic, and more real. I sense that there is something in myself and in the self of the other which is immanently private and which does not lend itself to concepts or superficial unifying or binding forces; this is unique subjectivity, the deepest level of per-sonal existence, that which constitutes me as I, the irreduc-ible core of personality, the shrine of what is most serious and authentic in me, the theatre of my eternal commit-ments. It is this dimension of mystery which constitutes the great distinction between persons themselves. Regardless of how close two persons may unite with one another, something of the other's.subjectivity will always evade the other: he may become a Thou for me, we may even speak with full force and meaning the word "We," but the other is always profoundly other than me. The We is precisely for this reason a miracle or the grace that it is. We can never be like two drops of water coming together to form a single drop. I may give myself deeply in love and hope to another, but he will always remain absent from me in some way and this hbsen~e is what makes him uniquely himself. But it is of the essence to note that the other is dis-closed to me in his full contingency only in those situ-ations in which we are genuinely open to one another. I can hardly speak of the mystery of subjectivity--the revelation of the other--without speaking of the mystery of intersubjectivity--the mutual revelation of both ofu~, which includes the gift of the other person to me. Here; we can speak more justly and fully of presence: presencel reveals a human dimension beyond that of proximity or even of sharing an experience, and this is the dimension of full encounter, coesse, of co-presence.~7 Presence is in its deepest reality co-presence. The structure of this situation is one of appeal and response. To meet another', I must call out to him, or welcome his appeal to myself by responding with my whole being, and not simply with a stereotyped, pre-determined response. When I speak to another, the area of mutual concern may be a purely business proposition; but if I welcome him into my life, if there springs up deep sympathy in the basic meaning of that word, we Roger Troisfontaines, S.J., De L'Existence a l'Elre (Louvain: E. Nauwelaerts, 1953), v. 2, p. 21. are to another something more than a billboard which announces the time of a community exercise or an IBM machine that reels off information. The question he asks me implies his faith in my ability to answer--my ability to stand, as it were, in his place and understand his question "from the inside.''2s" ~'The question, anyway, operates as an appeal, a signal that may or may not be received.''29 The appeal reaches me in my freedom. I may respond by being, for all practical purposes, some sort of information machine; yet in t~he course of our conver-sation, he becomes something more than a "somebody." "That is, he participates more a~d more in the absolute which is unrelatedness and we cease more and more to be 'somebody' and 'somebody e!se.' We become simply 'US.' "30 This is not merely a psychol~gical interpretation of emotional experience, for realistically speaking, "I cannot really invoke 'anybody'; I can only 'pretend~ to do so. In other words, it appears as if inv'ocation can only be ef-ficacious where there is communiiy.''al Truly, I can speak the word Thou to another only Where community is re-vealed, and we speak the word We.m This deep dimension of human reality reveals me to m~self; in my.deepest and freest being, I find the mystery Of intersubjectivity, the mystery of our solidarity in the destinies of the human phenomenon and the covenant of'creation. Although the sharpest mani[esthtion of this ontological community of men tends to be the somewhat dramatic events--birth, death, love, and go forth--which break in on our course of existence?3 still intersubjectivity runs in a scale from, for example, the chance smile of a stranger from whom I happened to ask directions in a city I am not familiar with to the union with one another in Ghrist in the Eucharistic assembly. Thi(. is important for com-munity life; by holding myself open to the other, by mak-ing myself available, by my. willingness to welcome him, entirely mechanical situations like asking a routine per-mission from my superior can be illuminated with a bit of the radiance of the truly significant. The deepest moments of intersubjectivity can act perhaps as beacons, reflecting that, unit most clearly and fully. As I enter the religious liie and make my pro-fession, the community kiss of peace manifests beautifully the community which has been created in me. This mo- ~ Gabriel Marcel, Metaphysical Journal, translated by Bernard Wall (London: Rockliff, 1952), p. 21. "Ibid., p. 143. ~ ~a I bIbidid.,, pp. 114761. ~ Ibid., p. 303. a Marcel, The Philosophy o] Existence, pp. 3-4. ÷ ÷ ÷ Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 319 4. Aioysius Mehr, 0.$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ment, though past, can be kept alive, can remain a presence to me--a moment of deep community to which I bear witness in the day-to-day encounters. I know, deeply within myself, that these encounters, for all their routine, flow forth from the community which we are, the com-munity which must be ever renewed through the passing years in creative fidelity to the situations in which. I am given to myself as one whose life, in the religious com-munity, is a being-with. From this point of view, we can look more closely at the full meaning of the opportunities of our religious com-munity: The closeness in which we live with one another is dangerous if reduced to the level of the functional, but it can just as truly point out to us the heights and depths of intersubjectivity. Social bindings open out into onto-logical community. Religious community life is rooted in social organizations and patterns, but it exists on the level of the human person in his freedom. In conclusion, the activities of our religious life must reflect the deep fact of our community-being, of our being-with one another, sharing a common destiny, united in the bonds of true love in Christ, For the structure of intersubjectivity is in its fullness, the structure of love. But we must be willing to see the levels and the manifestatiom of this love dim from time to time, just as in marriage the union in love has its ups and downs. Nevertheless, I must be aware of my deep responsibility to make my-self what Louis Lavelle calls "accessible" and Gabriel Marcel "disponible" or "availabie" to the other. Marcel equates this accessibility with charity, and quite rightly so.34 This is the fundamental posture or attitude for any fruitful communication between men, a communication which means opening myself to the presence and in-fluence of the other, desiring this presence, and being will-ing to go out into something that is quite different from myself. The self-centered egoist finds it impossible to be accessible and available. He is incapable of sympathiz~ ing with other people or imagining their situation. "He remains shut up in himself, in the petty circle of his private experience, which forms a kind of hard shell round him that he is incapable of breaking through.''3G Handy rules for making encounter possible, while help-ful, cannot be used without the danger of taking up a position outside the encounter itself in order to manipulate both the other and myself.3e I can perhaps ~' Ibid., p. 15. ~ Marcel, The Mystery o/Being, v. 10 p. 201. a Dale Carnegie gives.many of these handy rules in his famous book How to Win Friends and Influence.People (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1936). The value of some of these rules is questionable because of their pharisaical tendencies. be more aware of what I cannot do--in summary, tO treat him as an object, as a somebody, as anyone at all, as a function (whether teacher., farpenter, or any o[ the categories that can substitute for the person). In dis-agreements, I must respect the gift, for the other gives himself to me in his ideas and intdrpretations; in com- ¯ munity we can seek not a Procru~stean compromise but a kind of common expectation so that together we can go on seeking the light of truth. Th~ very things which tear us apart from one another~differences in age, in taste, in talent, in personal history-~zan unite us, not in a collectivity where differences are ignored or frowned upon, but in a community of mu[ual understanding. Creativity and Community Ideals High ideals attract men; the. higher the ideals the greater the attraction. Ideals fire, men with enthusiasm. But ideals cannot be handed physically to me as, for in-stance, a book or the constitutions.' Ideals can be described on paper, but they cannot exist oh paper. They are real-ized only in free creativity at the ~ery depths of being. More particularly, the ideals of. a gommunity must be ideaIs for particular men. They must be possible of fulfill-ment in their unique life and in the unique situation which invites their loyalty andS,, faithfulness to them. Every religious must create, again and again, the tra, di-tions and ideals of his order or congregation .by incarnat-ing them anew in his own life. The passage of ideals to incarnate human life, to act and incarnation in space and time is truly creative, for it ~nvolves a full and personal gift of myself creating meaning. Bu~t this does not happen in a void, but rather in an encounter, or 'a revelation of what I am (in the community that we are) that calls forth my witness and fidelity. An e, ncounter means a call and a response; a gift and a pre~ence of another who confronts me in my uniqueness; a re'alization of the destiny which lies at the heart o[ myselL "In action," writes Teilhard, "I cleave to the creatlve~ power of God; I co-incide with it; I become not only its instrument but its living prolongation.''~7 In the words of Gabriel Marcel: We have to realize that there are modes o[ creation which do not belong to the aesthetic order, and which are within the reach of everybody and it is in so far as he is a creator, at how-ever humble a level, that any man at all can recognize his own freedom.~ In our context, this means that in my freedom I must ~ Teilhard de Chardm, The D:vtne Md~eu, pp. 26-27. m Gabriel Marcel, Man Against Mass Society, translated by G. Fraser (Chicago: Regnery, 1952), p. 16. 4. 4. 4. Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 4. 4. 4. Alo~$ius OM~e.Ch~r., REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS respond to the unique religious vocation, which I have received from God, and that response is the truly creative assumption of the ideals, traditions, customs, and rules of my community. If I am to be a religious, and not merely act like one, I must enter into the living tradition of my community, see clearly the deep relationship be-tween law and reality (law in its deepest meaning in Christianity is the living out of our incorporation in Christ), and sense within myself the dynamism within the community, the promise of the future held in the hands of the present moment, the hour of trlal and grace. By translating the traditional ideals of my particular community into my life, I reach back into the very an. rials of history and, at the same time, proclaim that which is yet to come. I enter into living communion with the past and the future, with all who have professed, or will in the future profess, these ideals. Ideals seen in their' existent,_'al fullness are moments of consecration, joininl~ us with the ever-continuing history of our community. As Hiiring points out, History is to be viewed from the standpoint of the "now" in relation to beginning and end. The historic present reaches out into past and future. The past has its heritage which may be compared to the warp and woof of a rich fabric constantly redesigned into marvelously new and alluring shapes and formsi The treasure.is a summons or invitation, and a challenge as well, to the free will of man in the historic moment of the present.~ My response to this challenge wiaps up the rich her-itage of my order in the dynamism of my unique, per-sonal life, and.hands it as a sacred trust to the community, enriched, for future generations. By thus entering deeply into the We, and sharing together, feeling together in our deepest being the subtle movements and aspirations which translate possibility into act and thus tradition into life, and being into incarnations, I realize existentially arid not only notionally or rationally both the being which I am called to be and the significance of the union of men who have joined their own destinies together in respond-ing to the same ~hallenge. But just as we cannot understand man until we see his marvelous destiny, so we cannot begin to see the beauty and mystery of our community until we view it in its promise, in its dynamic growth and activity towards fullness. The religious community, as we pointed out in the introductory pages of this paper, exists within two wider communities--the community of life and t'J~e community of grace--from which it draws its own vital- The Law o] Christ, v. 1, p. 87. ity and life-thrust. In either Community, our destiny is not encompassed by the immediate projects, particular ends, or temporary goals. Our being plunges back into the dynamisms of created being itself; and in us the world achieves a certain completion of its own dest!ny. We are then a kind of particular and contingent, though nonetheless real, summation or symbol or eikon, image, of the community of all being. But the deepest values of our activity do not only capitulate in us the mystery of creation and the dy-namisms of life. As Teilhard would phrase it, ontogenesis has passed on into Christogenesis. Creation has been caught up, in its deepest dynamisms, into the new cre-ation, which is fulfillment, not destruction (Eph 2:15). As a community within the Church, and indeed its true eihon, its incarnation, we continue the forces of creation through the Incarnation and the New Adam into the promise and pledge of the Parousia (1 Cor 15:24). In this perspective, or better in this divine milieu, lies the true significance of our activities; we are bound together under a common cause which is as wide and deep as the community of men and as transcendent in its promise as the parousial presence in which life and temporality shall be consummated in the supreme en-counter of love. Seen in this light, we must modify our earlier thesi~ about the artificiality of the religious community. Adapt-ing Teilhard's terminology and the vision of St. Paul, we can rightly say that the religious community is an anticipation of a later and final stage of evolution, the unity of all men in Christ, the Omega point of historical being. This higher unity of mankind, which we an-ticipate, involves a center of gravity, a focal point, an axis above and beyond the ecological and physical. And what is this axis of religious community life? It is charity. The religious community must be founded on love of God and neighbor. This new level of mankind, as any leap in evolution, involves a definitive departure, a break from the lower stages even though it is their continuation, ful-fillment, and transformation.4° And yet, as an anticipation we are beginning to create the new within the old; this combination of the old and the new must involve sacrifice and tension--the death of the type as we pass into the era of the antitype, the dis-sipation of shadow as we strive to realize the light. There is tension and strain. Creation groans and is "in the pangs of childbirth" (Rom 8:22). Life is born through death. In our very community, creation is being re-capitulated in Christ. Christ is being born! The Divine Milieu, p. 86. ÷ ÷ ÷ Community Exegcises VOLUME 21, 1962 323 dloysius Mehr, 0~.~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Part HI: Community in the Word The deepest significance of religious community exer-cises is not found in mere human encou.nter, but in the encounter with men in God. Religious life .is a charism, a localized outpouring of the Spirit of God, who fills the whole .Church, in such an intense and concentrated way as to bear witness to a particular reality which in varying degrees permeates the whole Church. Keligious life is not radically different from Christian life; rather it is the living image, the eikon, the type and inauguration of perfect Christian life. The perfection to which all Christians are called and in which all shall share when the Day of the Lord dawns is incarnately realized in the Church today by the religious life, which can be called the "sacrament" of Christian perfection. The flourishing of religious life in the Church stands an apocalyptical pledge that the things to come will truly come because they have already been realized living type; religious life bears encouraging witness to each generation of Christians that the life of the Gospel can truly be lived to the full now, into the fullness that is to come. Such a witness can only be the fruit of the Spirit outpoured in charismatic plenitude. Once the religious life is seen as charismatic, its sacra-mental and ecclesiological dimensions become apparent and important. Since the religious life is the image of perfect Christian life, the basic structure of religious life must be seen in relation to the strhctural pattern of the Church's life. The possible points of reference here are numerous; we will limit the discussion to two features of Christian life which seem to be most fundamental. First, the Church is a community formed by the word of God. Secondly, the Church is a community of sacramental worship. Community in Covenant The Church of the New Testament, seen in the con-tinuity of sacred history as recorded in the. Scriptures, is the fulfillment of that people of God which was in continual formation down through Old Testament times by the gradually unfolding revelation of the Word of God. After the fall, God's Word appears on the human scene as a call; God called Abraham to leave his people and his father's house for a land of promise in which his descendants would multiply until they became as numer-ous as the sands of the sea (Gen 12:1). When Abraham responded to the initial promptings of God's Word, God spoke again to Abraham to make a covenant with him for a mutual sharing of destiny down through Abraham's posterity, which would come into being as a result of God's Covenant-Word. Abraham's family came into being as the family of God (Gen 15). As the history of the family of God folds back upon it-self, the same pattern emerges in the formation of the Israelite people from the family of Abraham. The Israel-ites were called out of Egypt to hear the Word of God proclaimed on Mount Sinai'(Ex 3:16--17). Another cov-enant resulted from this new proclamation, a covenant which was again creative of the community with whom it was made (Ex 24:8). The Israelites became a spiritual community in becoming the people of God in the Mosaic covefiant. The pattern recurs again as each successive wave of revelation leaves in its wake a fuller, more spiritualized community to whom God's Word is addressed as a call and a covenant. There can be no doubt from the annals of sacred history that when God speaks to man He speaks to man in community. In the dialogue between God and man, God is the I who speaks the creative Thou to the community. In the light of the fall of Adam, this dialogue appears as a healing dialogue. The community of the'human race disintegrated in sin. It appears to be God's plan to build it back up again meticulously in time, .through the gradual revelation of his creative Word in a gradually more perfect community, until these last times in which He speaks to us by a Son (Heb 1:2). He is the perfect Word uttered in the community which in the new Adam already exists but which is still being perfegted. (created) and realized (actualized) in all the members of the new human race by the continued call and proclamation of the new covenant in every life and time. In the realm of salvation, man does not walk alone and he is not free to do whatever he chooses. He is saved in community by the healing Word of God which is spoken to and in the community which it itself creates. The inner structure and dynamism of the Church is to be and to become this community of the Word of God. Let us now look more closely into the religious life in terms of what has already been said. If the religious life is to be the type and the eschatalogical pledge of the life of the Church, it ought to be the flesh-and-blood realiza-tion par excellence of the community of the Word of God. It is here that the progress of sacred history toward the fulfillment of God's plan of perfect community ought to be moving forward to the last day when the perfect community of the cosmos will be reheaded in Christ and God will be all in all (I Cor 15:28). The implications of this reach deeply into the basic attitudes incarnate in the concrete circumstances of re- Eoxme~mc~uen$lty VOLUME 21, 1962 325 Alo~situ Mehr, O.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ligious life. If the religious community is to be at all, the breath--the spirit-~of. God's Word must be free to move through and in us. Through baptism and confirmation we received the Spirit unto the building up of the com-munity to the full stature of Christ.4x The religious com-munity must be the community of the Word of God, true to the pattern of sacred history outlined above: call, proclamation of the Word, covenant. 1. (Tall. We are accustomed to the idea of a vocation to the religious life. We must draw this out to its concrete conclusions. First, when God calls man He calls him to community. A vocation to the religious life .is a call to community. Secondly, when God calls man to a religious community, He calls him to be initiated into a particular religious community. This means that the candidate must undergo a true initiation into the concrete life of that community and that he must successfully complete the initiation: he has to prove himself ready and able to renounce anything and everything which stands between him and the ideals of his vocation, to accept deeply in his incarnate being the two-edged sword of the Spirit. The religious pre-novitiate and novitiate training ought to be for the religious community what the catechu-menate was for the primitive Church. It ought to test the authenticity of the call. The community, but also the candidate, must ask the question: Is the Word of God truly at work here? God speaks toman in human language, not in weight-less abstractions. Hence the family background of the candidate must be looked into to see if God's Word came to him through parents genuinely in touch with God by their lives of faith. I[ the indications here are strongly negative, the.stronger influence of less natural channels of God's Word must be evident. Because of the psychology involved in such a situation, the candidate's response to this call must be tested for its supernatural authenticity by a convergence of other factors indicating the working and direction of Providence with adverse circumstances. The following questions must be answered: first, hits the candidate attained at least the minimum strength of character, mental health, and social ability required for successful community life; for the monastery or convent cannot function as a rehabilitation center without in-justice to its other members. Secondly, does the candidate at least show promising signs of being able to respond to maturing influences that will be able to help him to ~ Eph 4:13; see La Saihte Bible de Jerusalem (Paris: Cerf, 1956), p. 1546, note n: "Non pas simplement le chrfitien arriv~ h l'~tat de 'parfait,' mais l'Homme parfait en un sens collectif: soit le Christ lui-m~me., soit mieux encore le Christ total, T~.te. et mere- grow to a greater measure of personal authenticity? If the latter is the case, one must investigate whether or not these maturing influences so much needed are actually present in the community which the candidate wishes to join and whether they will be accessible to him. ~This is only another way of asking whether this person,~who does seem to be called by God, is being called to thig particular community. 2. Proclamation. This has led us to our next point. The community has been called together to hear the Word of God; hence that Word must be. authentically proclaimed in the community. In the Church there are official proclaimers, messengers (kerukes), for this task: the priestly hierarchy. In the religious community, this responsibility rests primarily with the superiors. They must be men of God's Word. The Bible must be familiar ground to them. They ought to be able to breathe the Scriptures. God's Word cannot be spoken with authority except by men who themselves hear the Word of God and keep it. St. Paul's timely words to Timothy, the head of the Ephesus community, point out this obligation: Attend to the public reading of Scripture, to preaching., to teaching. Do not neglect the gift you have, which was g~ven you by prbphetic utterance when the elders laid their hands upon you. Practice these duties, devote yourself to them, so that all may see your progress. Take heed to yourself and your teaching; hold to that, for by so doing you will save both your-self and your hearers (1 Tim 4:15--16; see also Col 3:16). The central time and place for the proclamation of God's Word to the community is the liturgy. Everything within the range of possibility should be done to make this proclamation authentic. The laws of liturgical psy-chology must be understood and incorporated into actual liturgical practice. Also it should be understood that proclaiming God's Word in the liturgy is not confined to the scriptural readings but extends to the homily or sermon delivered in the assembly. It is a mistake to think that because religious do a great deal of spiritual reading they do not need to hear sermons. Faith comes from hearing (Rom 10:17). The Scriptures must be au-thoritatively interpreted in relation to concrete con-temporary events. Here the jurisdictional power of su-periors can be seen to be more than a matter of legality. Theirs is the charism to preach authoritatively and to recognize the authentic prophetic spirit in those whom they delegate to preach. In general, there ought to be within the community a real atmosphere of reverence to the Bible. This is mani-fested, for instance, in the handling of the sacred books. Dilapidated Missals ought not be found on the altar. Out-side of the liturgical assembly, the Missal should not be ÷ ÷ Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 AIoysi~s Mehr, O&C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS carelessly thrown in the corner of the sacristry but re-served in a place of honor, like the Blessed Sacrament and the Holy Oils. The same can be said for the Bible used for community reading during the meal, and to a lesser extent for the copy of the Bible kept by individuals in their rooms. Private Bible reading ought to be en. couraged within the spiritual reading program; but this entails some instruction in how to read the Bible, es-pecially for those who do not have the benefit of an in-tensive Scripture course. All these things are only ex. amples, but they indicate a direction .of attitude which must be fostered if the seed of God's Word is to find good ground to grow into a community. 3. Covenant. The proclamation of the Word of God in the community climaxes in covenant, an intimate I. Thou relationship of God with the community. Itshall be a continual burnt offering throughout your genera-tions at the door of the tent of meeting before the Lord; where I will meet with you, to speak there with you . And I will dwell among the people of Israeli and will be their God. And they shall know that I am the Lord their God, who brought them lorth out o] the land oI Egypt that I might dwell among them: I am the Lord their God (Ex 29:42-46). The intimacy of the covenant is best expressed in the Scriptures by the idea of a sacred meal with God at the time of the covenant. "Then Moses and Aaron and Nadab, and Abihu, and seventy of the elders of Israel went up and they saw the God of Israel . they beheld God and ate and drank" (Ex 24:9-11). The sacred meal will be discussed later. What is of moment here is that God addresses the community as Thou. He covenants with the community. He shares the destiny of the community, and in this way alone does the community become God's people, heir to the promises. "I will be your God and you will be my people" (Jet 32:38)~ The community has in fact been established by the progressive call of God through both Testaments. Or, to put it more critically, the concrete possibility has been established for the authentically Christian community to become to be, to grow in creative fidelity into being fully what it already is in the reality of infallible promise. Nor is the creative, call merely the point of origin; the call is repeated through and in the community of the Church to each generation for the divinization of every era. We are in fact inserted into this order of the Spirit; and by this very reality bear the serious responsibility of. hastening the Parousia (2 Pet 3:12) by a total effort to build community, to respond to the creative call ad- dressed to us, to assure that there will be in us a Thou for the moment when God speaks his "I." There must be real communion of persons who have an authentic, conscious, un-egocentric participation in the human nature and creatureliness they share in their com-mon flesh from the loins of Adam. There must be com-munity in which Christ is progressively becoming in-carnated and given being-in-the-world, caught up, as it were, by the Spirit and created time and time again in authentic response (possible only in community) to the liturgical Word. proclaimed now, as in times past, in liturgical community. Then the great Passover of Jesus from the Cross into the glory of His Resurrection~ Ascen-sion, and Enthronement can take root- in the world and create from our community authentic and supernatural Christian community, the Body of the Lord. For a man to enter the We :of the community, certain things must happen to him. For one thing~ he must have experienced encounter with other persons in the com-munity. This occurs on various interpenetrating levels. On the sacramental level, the encounter begins with his initiation into the Church through baptism and confirma-tion which are an encounter with the concrete Church community. In the religious life a further sacramental encounter is the act of religious profession. Think of the handclasp, the Amen of the community, and the kiss of peace. , Through baptism, confirmation, and profession, the religious has already met the members ofthe community on the sacramental level, the. authenticity of which meet-ing will depend on the authenticity of the ritual. This also means that he is ontologically structured for and pledged to this encounter in all its dimensions. Other levels of encounter which are basic to the we experience are the father-son relationship between su-perior and subject, the brother relationship between con-freres, the teacher-student relationship, and the more in-timate encounter of true religious friendship. A parish community is as strong as the basic I-Thou relationship between the husband and wife in the families of the pa.rish, since marriage is the effective sign of the Church. similarly a promotion of genuine I-Thou relationships within the community builds up the great We of the I. Thou relationship with God, as the.se experiences open the personalities of the religious to that common human nature and creatureliness which would otherwise be hoarded up individualistically by each selbcenter. The human nature and creatureliness which we share is a concrete human nature and creatureliness incarnate in the human beings around us, and it is there where it must ÷ Community VOLUME 21, 1962 32g ÷ ÷ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS be met. Here we have the sensible, real basis, the sign, of the Body of Christ which is realized in sacrament. Another experience which conditions for and builds up the great We is the common sharing of a rich ex-perience, a going through something together, a com-mon passover. God made his covenant with Israel after the Exodus experience, after the people had passed through the Red Sea together. This experience involves the elements of crisis, judgment, and victorious issue. Once again, on the sacramental level, this is accomplished through the catechumenate and initiation sacraments of baptism and confirmation in which the candidate shares the Christian community's experience of the Exodus, of the Passover from the Egypt of sin through the Red Sea of baptism to the new life of the people of God. In the religious life a further sacramental or ritual sharing of crisis-victory is embodied in profession, the passover into the state of perfection. But this sacramental ontology of community on the basis of shared experience becomes incarnate in and is the fulfillment of numerous experiences undergone on other levels of life. Religious life can provide many ex-cellent experiences of solidarity through crises and vic-tories. As examples can be mentioned: working out phil-osophical and theological problems; a difficult community project such as the continued and successful support of a mission; a common experience of joy such as might be expected at ordinations and professions; the death of a member of the community; in short, any event which deeply affects the community. This solidarity in experience is not limited to events. What may be more important is the common experience of the presence of great persons. Just as the Israelite community was somehow bound up in the persons of Moses, Josue, and Aaron, and just as the Church is bound up in the persons of Christ, the Apostles, and the Virgin Mary, so the religious community is bound up in the per-sons of its superiors and leading figures. The superior must be a deep, spiritually mature person who is in personal contact with his community so that the members of the community actually have a chance to experience him and feel a solidarity in this experience. As fdr the other leading figures in the community, the more deep personalities God has given to a community, so much richer will that community life be as the solidarity in this experience broadens the horizons of the com-munlty. It is a corruption of a precious gift for a com-munity to consider its outstanding members as divisive forces or to make them feel like isolated individualists. Sharing the experience of encounter with a great man is one of the strongest bonds of unity there is between man and man. We have discussed some factors in the formation of the community We which becomes the Thou whom God addresses in his covenant dialogue. There is one other element of covenant that should be mentioned, and it is the sharing of destiny. God becomes involved in the community's destiny and the community is caught up into God's great mystery of salvation, the secret hidden from the ages and revealed fully in his Son, the movement of salvation history (Col 1:26-27). There is a movement toward fulfillment, toward Pleroma. Christ has already been established as the Head of new order in heaven, but his Body is still undergoing construction upon earth. The completion of Christ's Body is being realized little by little. It is a steady growth until the full measure of the perfect Man is attained. This fullness, Pleroma, means that in Christ harmony has been established among all things, that the universe is "filled b~ the creative presence of God."42 When this day shall arrive, the Church will contain Christ in his fullness. The Church will reach the stature of the perfect man (Eph 1:23), The movement .of salvation history, however, is not inevitable. God is faithful and will accomplish His pur-pose, but His people do not always respond with like fidelity, and He will not use force. If the Day of the Lord is to come, it is the Christian community, we, who must hasten it (2 Pet 3:12), we who must move ahead; and we are free to contribute to this forward movement or to hold it it check. If we should choose the latter, we would become like the Thessalonians who sat around and waited for the Parousia and who were upbraided for their pre-sumption (2 Th). The religious community ought to be an advance guard unit in this forward march, for it is by definition a place of perfection and fulfillment. This again points up the necessity for the proclamation of the Word of God in the community. The history of salvation is contained in the Scriptures. God's plan is there, and only those who are familiar with its patterns are capable of reliable frontier work on the boundaries of sacred history. Ful-fillment does not mean reckless lunging out in any direc-tion. Yet neither i~ it all mapped out in detail. Here the living tradition of the Scriptures assumes its rightful im-portance. The leaders of the community must be men who walk in the way of the Lord and meditate on His law. If we may say so, they must have a scriptural instinct, a Pierre Benoit, O.P., "Corps, t~te et pl~r6me darts les Rpitres de lacaptivit~," Revue Biblique, v. 63 (1956), pp. 5-44. ÷ ÷ ÷ Community VOLUME 21, 1962 .331 ÷ Aloysius OM.Se.hCr., REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS a feel for the way God does things, and a contact with the currents of life in the Church. They must be attentive to the voice of higher authority and at the same time be aware of the prophetic movements within their own com-munity. They literally have to know which way the Wind --the Holy Spirit--is blowing. Community in Worship At this point lines of thought begin to converge: the Word of God, community, covenant, sacred history; and their point of convergence is worship. We may say that the community called into being by the Word of God in the context of sacred history through the intimacy of the covenant is primarily a worshiping community. What happens in Christian sacramental rituals? The Word of God, spoken once definitively in Jesus Christ, is spoken now in the Church community which is the Body of Christ, the real, glorified soma tou Christou, which is building up to completion. Ritual makes possible.through its pneumatic bodiliness, its symbolic or sacramental na-ture, the entrance by the commUnity here and now into the great sacramental moment, the primordial time, Christ's great Resurrection Passover, which stands at a particular moment of history yet transcends it, catches up within itself the vitality of all history, its direction and its completion. Here the Christian community whose task it is to move sacred history ahead, to build up the Body of Christ, is in contact with the vital source of the upward thrust of sacred history: the leap of the crucified Jesus up into the life of the Christos-pneuma. Covenant intimacy with God becomes possible in ritual: the I-Thou rela-tionship between the Father and the community comes into being in the spoken word and the meal ritual (or other symbolic act), in both of which, taken together, the risen Christ in whom we meet the Father is present through the working of the Spirit. By hearing the ef-fective Word together and eating the sacred meal to-gether (or doing the ritual action of the other sacraments), the members of the community pass together through the greatest of all experiences: the Passover of Christ, the primordial passage of non-being into being, of what is away from God to what is in God, of what is dead: sarx, to what is alive: pneuma. 1. Mass. In this context, the Mass, as the supreme Passover ritual, becomes for the Church and the religious community the supreme moment of covenant communion with the Father and with one another. The place of meet-ing with God is the place of.assembly and formation of the people of God. The people of God were formed to the Qehal Yahweh by communication with God himself. The community entered a covenant with God, and the effec- tive token of this covenant was the paschal meal. This reaches its fulfillment in the Eucharist where we become one people of God by sitting at table with God. For the community, the Mass is not just one of the de-votional exercises of the day, nor merely one of the "means" used by a group 0f3ndividuals for accumulating personal merits. It is first of all a gathering, an assembly of Christians, those who are of Christ. Secondly, it is not an hour of community meditation, but an hour of com-munity action, an event, a celebration. The act of cele-bration is important, for the event is Christ's event (here we have the true meaning of ex opere operato), and the community enters into the mystery of Christ by their ritual transposition of the action of Christ. The event is the Resurrection Passover of Christ which He Himself rit-ually transposed in the sacramental moment of the Last Supper and ordered to be clone in commemoration of Him. Let us examine these two interrelat'ed realities: com-munity and event. The worshiping community is not a priori, not an automatically given thing with which to work out the problem of celebrating Mass. Nor can the community be improvised haphazardly. It must be .built up by active and intelligent effort; it demand~ active con-cern and reverence for the laws of human acting. In fact, if the sacramental reality is to be accomplished, if com-munity is to be created on the supernatural level, the sacramental signs must be authentic. As St. Thomas has told us: the sacraments signify what they cause and cause only insofar as they signify,aa This highlights the necessity for catechesis: instruction, explanation, acclimatization--initiation into the reality of the community and the event. Catechesis is a psy-chological necessity because words and actions must be significant. The Bible and the ritual must be understood by the community. Cathechesis is accomplished both by systematic instruc-tion and by the actual celebration authentically done. We have already spoken of some things that can be done out-side the celebration regarding the catechesis of the Bible. A suggestion or two concerning the cathechesis of the ritual outside the celebration may slip into what fol-lows by an occasional convenient parenthesis, but what we are primarily interested in here is .the ca-thechesis that occurs within the celebration of Mass itself. No matter how much formal instruction we have about the Mass, we can come to learn the Mass only by doing the Mass. Actions must be learned from within, by doing. No matter how many books we read about how Summa Theologiae, 3, q. 62, a. 1, ad I. + + + ommunit~ Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 ÷ ÷ ÷ Aloysius Meh¢, O.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ,334 to study or how to play tennis, we will never really have learned these activities until we have entered into them. Catechesis must adapt the celebration of the Mass to the psychological climate of the assembly. This, of course, must be done within the limit of the laws of the Church. We do not, for instafice, simply "adapt" our celebration into the vernacular, despite the fact that this might be an excellent cathechetical move, one to be hoped, prayed and worked for through legitimate channels. But there is much to be done within the limits of the present rubrical framework. Let us begin with the community itseff. We can talk the idea of community to people until the Parousia, and it will not create community. A Christian community has to be built up by the celebration of Mass itself. The daily conventual Mass is a summons to enter deeply into com-munity. The community must experience community. Community is indeed where community happens. In the primitive Church there were at first no Catholic schools to teach the idea of community. Community was built up through worship, a worship that took into account the concrete conditions of the lives of the faithful. One of these basic concrete conditions is the bodiliness of men. Body is intrinsic to human personality. Man not only has a body, but also is a body. As we have already seen, man is a spirit incarnate in a body which is its epiphany, its revelation, its sign. And to come to the point here, it is through his body that man is part of the community of the race of Adam 'and through his body that he enters into conscious contact with the community. It is the role of good catechesis to create a sensible at-mosphere of community. It is especially when brethren gather around the altar that they ought to get that ecce quara bonum feeling. What can be done toward this? First of all, there have to be people there. And they ought to be there for the Mass. If I sit down to eat a meal with someone and he insists on reading the paper, I do not feel that he is really with me. Likewise, if the man next to me at Mass is "getting his meditation in" or "getting through his Office," the sense of community i~ being broken down. This does not mean that everyone at Mass has to be doing the same thing, for there are many liturgies or works to be done at the one great liturgy: the celebrant, the choir, the schola, the altar ministers, the organist, the choir director--all have their own work to contribute to th~ whole. But there must be that sense of the whole to which all are contributing. All present must feel that "we came here to do the Mass." The importance of this, I think, is felt instinctively even by those who close themselves up in a meditation book at Mass: they stand, sit, and kneel with the community. This at least is better than nothing, but it is for from the ideal. Akin to this is the practice of having "a Mass going on" in church when the community has come there to do something else. One picks up the habit of not becoming distracted by the Mass. Not only does this dull ofie's abil-ity to participate at other times when he is supposed to, but such a psychologically unsound practice of not doing what you are doing, on the basic religious level, has a disintegrating effect on the total personality and shows up in other activities. The desire to "get in an extra Mass" may proceed from sincere devotion, but it some-what misses the point. Whenever the Mass is used as a background or as something that is secondary, its signifi-cance (which is of prime importance in the sacramental realm) is greatly lessened (I do not say completely ab-sent); this lessening of significance breaks down the au-then. ticity of the ritual, hence its effectiveness. But in the Mass-and-something-else situation, it is not only the Mass that suffers. When two community exercises which de-mand full attention are combined, neither is able to have any depth. The sense of community at Mass is also built up by the alertness and freshness of the presence of the participants. This means that those who plan to attend Mass in the morning ought io feel it their responsibility to get enough sleep the night before to enable them to be attentive to one another and to the sacred actions. It also means that Mass should not be scheduled to be done after a marathon of spiritual exercises has just about exhausted the normal capabilities of a man to do the intensive work which good praying demands. Another important contribution to the sense of com-munity is the very structure of the church building. People at Mass ought to be able to see the altar and to see each other. They must be able to feel close to one another and not to feel oppressed by one another. Their place in church ought to be related to their role at the Mass. They ought to be able to feel together in the pres-ence of God. These problems have to be worked out on the architectural level by those competent in the field. The furnishings of a church must be such as not to distract from the main purpose of the building. The com-munity ought not to be pulled in all directions by a penny arcade of devotional concession stands. This does not mean elimination of statues from the church, but it does mean an integration of all furnishings into the main-stream of attention. This must be done by the planning of skillful designers, not by a mere process of accumula-tion. ÷ ÷ ommunlty Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 335 4. ÷ 4. Aloy~ius Mehr, 0.$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 336 The celebrant, too, has his role to play in creating a sense of community. He must realize his role as the leader of the community, as one who acts in their name, and must by his very actions sweep up the community .into participation with him. Hemust understandthat not all parts of thd Mass are equally important, and he must learn how to emphasize the important parts with the proper gestures and tone of voice, and not to monopolize the attention of the community when what he is doing is not the main thing going on, especially when the choir is singing. His gestures must be authentic. When he greets the people, there should be contact, and he should wait for their response. When he proclaims the Word of God, he should do so loudly, clearly, and expressively. During the great presidential, prayer, the anaphora, from the pre-face to the doxology, he should invite the silent attention of the community to what he is doing by his own sense of presence, by his poise and serenity. His whole bodily attitude must be expressive of praise and thanksgiving, His priestly vestments ought to mark him as a man of dis-tinction. In short, he must look and sound like a leader, and to do this he has to feel like one. He is not to be esoteric or insert idiosyncracies into the celebration, yet his action must be personal action flowing expressively from his total personality which on the deepest level is priestly. Finally, the two .very important factors in building up the sense of community are music and movement. People experience real togetherness by mutual singing and mu-tual movement. Every conventual Mass should be a com-munity sing. But again this does not mean that everyone has to sing everything. Some of the prescribed chants are too difficult to be enjoyable for those who are not trained to sing them. The obvious answer is to let the trained schola sing those parts, while the rest of the community listens attentively--at that moment their liturgy is med-itative listening together. Beyond this, there is need for the composition of good music which is singable by the real communities that actuall~ exist. °The ability to sing must be built up, but we have to start where people are and help them experience their own way into better things. The most familiar mutual movements at Mass are the changes of posture: standing, sitting, kneeling, and bow-ing. These movements ought to be expressive and forma-tive of community. This means that all should rise, bow, and so forth, together because community actions are not fully authentic unless every member makes his contribn-tion to the communal movement. These movements, as well as all the ceremonies during any liturgical function, should be expressive of two things: first, the gravity of what is being done, and secondly, the anirna una et cor unum of the community. Beyond the familiar change~ of posture, there are three great movements of the .people of God at Mass--the En-trance Procession, the Offertory Procession, and the Com-munion Procession~during which the community is sing-ing together. There are practical difficulties in restoring the movement features of the first two processions which have been reduced to the singing of the Introit and Of-fertory Antiphons. The difficulties are not insurmount-able, but they are more formidable than the difficulty it would entail to reintroduce the singing feature of the Commun, ion Procession. There are few experiences of community which can match walking in a group of your confreres in joyful song on the way to and fron~ the table of the Lord where you share the .one Bread. Let Us now make a few observations about the cat-echesis of the Mass as an event. The Mass is not an ordi-nary dialogue, nor an ordinary meal. It is a festive speak-ing of God and a festive eating with God. It involves a longing for happiness and salvation, for every feast" has the atmosphere of expectation and liberation from rou-tine. This is the eschatological dimension of the Mass. The early Christian found it easier to feel the festivity of the Mass because he found it easier to see the Mass as a cel-ebration of the coming of the risen Lord, a pledge of His final coming. For the early Christian Christ was present in the Church, especially in the actual liturgical assembly gathered together in His name: as the community cam~ together, Christ came among them. When those who love come together the tone is one of festivity. The Mass must, then, become a real celebration, as its interpenetrating rhythm of dialogue and meal indicate it is meant to be. At a celebration people talk and sing and move around. There is real, free communication. Mass is a dialogue between God and His people through the mediatorship of the priest. The priest talks to God in the name of the people and to the people in the name of God. When people really come together in a festival setting to talk with one another, they bring their interests, their work, their experiences, and their whole personality which transcends these experiences. Here one can see the role that community recreation and community meals can play as a catechesis of the proper celebration of Mass. It is not stretching a point to see community recreation as the extension and fruit of the festive dialogue of the Mass; in itself it has something of the nature of a ritual and might indeed be considered a sacramental for community. Play is sacred. When the Bible says the people rose up ÷ ÷ + Community Exercises VOLUME 21o 1962 337 ÷ ÷ Aloysius Mehr, O.~.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 338 to play while Moses was conversing with God on Mount Sinai, it speaks condemningly of the event, including its sexual misbehavior, precisely because it was an act of false worship (Ex 32:1-6). Later in Israelite history we know that David leapt and danced before the Ark of the Covenant (2 S 6:14). Play is an expression of joy and freedom--like the Sabbath day of rest. The idea of worship and the free-dom from the drudgery of work belong together. The need to break routine is rooted in man's desire for the freedom of salvation. Play is free dialogue, whether it be in the form of relaxed conversation, or a contest in which make-believe competition is manufactured, or the sharing of some unroutinized activity just "for the fun of it." Play keeps a man from b~ecoming a slave to his work; it keeps him from confining himself to the world of I-It. We take a game seriously to a point. We must take it that far, for playing is literally "making fun" of work. The religious significance of this is deep. One can take his life's work seriously only to a point; from there he must "make fun" of it in the sight of God and man as David made fun before the Ark and the people. Other-wise he will become proud and self-sufficient. The world of I-It is not to be despised, but it must lead up to the world of I-Thou, of dialogue between man and man and between man and God. Community recreation ought to be fun, but it must never be dissipation or aesthetically squalid, or the whole meaning of it is destroyed. It is the bringing of the real necessity of one's work to the level of free personal dialogue with God and man. A person-alized celebration of community recreation is a great help to a personalized celebration of Mass. The festivities of" the Mass reach their climax in the meal celebration. Food and drink are an essential part of a celebration. The Mass is a holy eating together, a sacred banquet in which we are filled with the bread of life and drink of the cup of gladness. The symbolism of wine especially provides the atmosphere of festivity. The feeling tone of the Mass is that of a celebration of people who are spiritually well fed and well drunk, who feel the spiritual fullness from the rich bread and the spiritual freedom from the intoxicating wine. Here we might note that the regular community meals can be a real catechesis of the Mass, since they are in fact a sacramental extension of the meal aspect of the Mass through the ritual prayers surrounding them. Human eating is of its nature a sacred and communal act. It is not a mere refueling for another round of work. God is present at every meal in his gifts of food and drink and in the fellowship around the table. The prayers before and after meals set the tone of the meal. They are mos~tly i, excerpts from the Psalms, breathing the spirit of the anawim, the spirit of joy, thanksgiving, appreciation, de-pendence on God, praise, awareness of God's presence, simplicity. The meals themselves should reflect all this. The food should be simple fare, b,ut good. It ought, t.o be eaten in an atmosphere of calm enjoyment, not of frantic dumping from platter to plate to palate. There ought to be a real spirit of fellowship at the table. But besides fellowship at table, we should also be aware of how community meals tie in with the Mass. Father Godfrey Van Lit, O.S.C., describes the intimate relation-ship between the refectory and the ~ chapel, community meals and the Mass.4. The Christian dining room table is a symbol of the Eucharistic table, the altar, and hence the refectory used to be decorated with a large, artistic painting of the Last Supper. As we have silence of place in the chapel, so we also observe silence of place in the refectory, And as in the community Mass the leader pro-claims to us the Good News, so also during our commu-nity meals a lector acquaints us with the consequences of the Gospel narrative. Both at Mass and at table, we are reminded that "not by bread alone does man live, but by every word that comes forth from. the mouth of God" (Mr 4:4). Both the Mass and the community meals ought to par-take of the spirit of the Passover and Chaburah meals of the Old Testament. The pervading tone here is that of a family meal. The community superior presides in the place of honor at the table as the father of the family who provides the good gifts. In so doing he is the epiphany of our heavenly Father who provides us with all good things, and the assurance of His presence among us. "He who has seen me has seen the Father" (Jn 14:9). The hebclomadarius who leads the community both at Mass and at the meal prayers must be seen as the delegate of the father of the community, just as every priest stands at the altar as the delegate of the bishop. So simple a thing as the custom of not starting the prayers until the superior "knocks of[" in chapel or rings the bell in the refectory helps to keep this family awareness. At the com-munity table one ought not to feel that he is just one nameless stop along the long line of the gravy train, but that he is among the little group of his brothers with whom he is at home. We are one "b~cause the bread is one" (1 Cor 10:17). The event aspect of the Mass also demands that the ritual transposition of the sacramental moment should be ~ Lucerna Splendens super Candelabrum Sanctum, Id Est, Solida ac Dilucida Explanatio Constitutionum Sairi ac Canoni¢i Ordinis Fratium Sanctae Crucis (Coloniae Agrippinae: apud Antonii Boet-zeri Heredes, 1632), pp. 45-58; 87. ÷ ÷ ÷ ECxo~mrmcisuensity VOLUME 21, transparent; the celebration must be a revelation of the event itself. The main event is the Easter Passover, but there are other sacramental moments in sacred history which unfold in the course of the Church year as incip-ient or concluding stages of the Passover, from the In-carnation to the Mission of the Spirit. The sacramental moments are themselves revelations, openings into the Passover mystery, which pervades the whole Church in her sacramental ritual. A final note on the Mass concerns the apostolate. Cult is formative of missionaries. Worship is the school of the very Christian experience which the apostle seeks to com-municate to others. Here we must remember that there is no. effective activity without sanctity; there is no sanc-tity which does not radiate in the Church; there is no grace which does not come from the Head, and there is none which does not flow from the member back over the entire Body.~ + + lloysim Mehr, O.S.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 34O A religious who neglects his personal sanctity in order to intensify his activity, paralyzes it. The gift of the Spirit is the sacramental basis for com-munity in work. When a man works to bring forth the fruits of the earth as a Christian, he brings these temporal things into the sphere of the Spirit by doing the very best job he can to make his farming or his teaching, and so forth, as perfect as possible within the total context of human life, of community. He is working with the crea-tive force of the Spirit who hovered over the waters and brought order, harmony, and completion out of chao:; and who is now at work in the community. He brings; creation into his Passover experience. He is using the totality of his mind and energies and spirit, which totality exists only within the community, 'to bring creatures to perfection, to fill up the glory ofGod which will come in its fullness at the Parousia. 2. Penance. We are not accustomed to thinking of the sacrament of penance in terms of the community, and in this we have missed much of its meaning. The weekly confession of devotion can easily become for religious a routinized ticking off of peccadillos which one "gets rid' of" by inserting his penitential coins in the laundromat at the back of Church. The sacrament of penance is a re-penetration of our ex-istence into Christ's healing death and Resurrection. Re-penetration implies that something preceded. Through baptism man is ontologically structured into the commu-nity of the holy--holy persons and holy things which they share. Sin 'is something abnormal for man in Christ Jesus '~Jules Lebreton, S.J., The Spiritual Teaching o! the New Testament (Westminster: Newman, 1960), p. 375. (Rom 6:2). By sin man withdraws from the Body of Christ and sides with the world. The sacrament of penance is reconciliation with the Church. It is the Church that listens to his confession, prays for him, and gives him absolution. Here we see the Body of Christ, wounded by'sih, festoring itself t~0 health. For us, a return to God is always, first of all, a return to the Church. Forgiveness is not so much something which the Church brings us, but rather a belonging to the Church outside of which there is no salvation. The importance of the local Church community must be emphasized here. When a sinner is forgiven, he is for-given through the forgiveness of the local community. This was more evident in the earlier forms of the sacra-ment of penance when the sinner was received publicly back into the assembly. He was assured of God's forgive-ness by the concrete forgiving spirit manifested to' him by the community. The power to absolve is vested in those with hierarchical authority, but they absolve in the name of the community of the faithful; hence the?e is a more fruitful and creative spiritual power at work in the con-fessional of a community'where there is a strong spiri't of mutual forbearancb and forgiveness, where the '~'as we forgive those who trespass against us" is prayed with awareness and sincerity, where the offensive person is ac-cepted in patience, understanding, and ultimate trust in what in him lies beyond his offences: his Christian per-sonality. The sacrament of penance can also be made more fruit-ful if the sacramentals of penance in the community life are appreciated. Two important ones. come to mind: Compline confession of sins and the chapter of faults. Let it be remembered that by the institution of the Church these rites are sacramentals, and if approached in a spirit of contrition they accomplish forgiveness of sin. The Compline confession of sin is the best catechesis for the sacrament of penance for it clearly embodies .its essential elements: contrition, confession of sin in the community and to the community, including the whole community of saints in heaven as well as those present; absolution is given by the presiding priest; and everybody prays together for the effectiveness of the forgiveness. The chapter of faults is also well constructed to pro-mote the communal atmosphere of penance, but it needs to be approached in a genuine spirit of sorrow. The pub-lic confession of our faults in the presence of the com-munity helps to make us realize that by our transgres-sions, by our indifference, lack of interest, fulfillment of purely personal inclinations, and non-participation in the community as such, we cut ourselves off, in fact we deny, the ontological status or nature of our very calling. ÷ ÷ ÷ F~oxmermcisuens ity 4. .4. Aloysius Mehr, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Worse yet, we hold back the community, we retard its growth. This seems to be the point of the chapter of faults: we confess that we have not been completely faith-ful to the ideals to which we vowed creative fidelity. 3. Holy Orders. In clerical religious communities, the whole idea of community life is intimately bound up in the sacrament of holy orders. Some observations on the place of the priesthood in the Church are necessary to clear the ground. It has often been said recently that the Church is not the clergy, despite the impression that has long been given to the contrary. The community is the first inten-tion. The priesthood exists for and in and fromthe com-munity through the apostolic succession. The priesthood is a charism, a mode of being in the Church, for the com-munity, not for itself. It expresses and makes possible and matures the general priesthood of the faithful in its three-fold dimension of worship, kingship, and prophethood. These are the Messianic goods, and they have been placed within the community in the gift of the Holy Spirit. In this context the Church itself is the Ur-Sat~rament con-taining the fullness of the Spirit, which is worked out through many diverse gifts. The priesthood is a charism for the building up of the Church (Eph 4:11-14). Ordination is the,gift of the Holy Spirit by the laying on of hands in the Church for the community. The priest is filled personally by the Holy Spirit to be his minister. No man takes the office to him-self-- or for himself. The fullness of the priesthood is only in the bishop. He is the sign of the full presence of Christ on earth, the organ of unity within the local Church community. He is one with Christ and one with his people. His faith is the norm for the faith of his flock. St. Cyprian defines the . Church as the people united to its priest, the flock stick-ing with its shepherd. The 'bishop is the nucleus of the community because he is the link with Christ through the imposition of hands through which the continuum of the soma tou Christou is maintained. The presbyterate is only a share in the bishop's priest-hood, a subsidiary priesthood under the bishop. As the ordination rite explicitly states, the presbyter is a "sec-ond- rate" priest: secundi meriti. In this light, every priest is a diocesan priest, and, exempt or not, when he works as a priest in a diocese, he works there as the helper of the bishop. By his ordination he is ontologically struc-tured for this work. He is called from the depths of his being to be a helper to the bishop of the diocese in which he lives. Here one can see what a deordination it is for religious priests not to be on good terms with the local ordinary. These good relations should also exist with the rest of the local clergy since the presbyterate is not merely an in-dividualistic but a collegiate institution. The architecture of early churches and the episcopal liturgy indicate this by placing the corona presbyterorum on the bema round the bishop. We still put the clergy together in the sanc-tuary. When a presbyter is ordained he joins the ordo foresbyterovum. This is eloquently obvious in the ordina-tion rite when the "college of presbyters" encircles the ordinands and joins the bishop in the imposition of hands. Priestly fellowship is rooted in the sacramental re-ality, and this sacramental reality is also what makes com-munity life a natural thing for priests. The unity in an order of canons draws its essential vitality from the sacra-ment of holy orders. In this context, the naturally prominent position of the Divine Office and liturgical exercises in many of the cler-ica. I religious communities becomes evident. The Divine Office is, as defined by Pope Pius XII, ~he perennial prayer of the Church, offered to God in the name and on behalf of all Christians, by those who have been deputed for this. It is the hymn of the Divine Word who has united to Him-self the entire human race, and the hymn which He sings is the hymn of praise which is sung in heaven continu-ously. St. Augustine is correct in saying that in the Divine Office "Christ prays for us. as our Priest; he prays in us as our Head; we pray to him as our God . We recognize Our voice in him and his voice in us.''4~ It is the Church praying. But we should go one step further. When a community of canons regular is called into existence by the Holy Spirit and officially approved by the Church, it is by its very nature entrusted with the solemn and communal celebration of the sacred liturgy, especially the Divine Office and the conventual Mass. If any religious body has the right to say that the liturgical life is its ideal, it is the canons regular.47 They above all should lead the way in the liturgical revival of Christian life. The proper chanting of the Divine Office in common is formative of community. But, in order to be formative of community, it presupposes first of all that the community understands the dignity of the Church's prayer, secondly, that the choir members are able to read the text of the prayer intelligently, and, finally, that they adopt as their own the sentiments expressed in these prayers. ,e Mediator Dei, nn. 142-144. ,TDom Germain Morin, O.S.B., The Ideal o] the Monastic Life Found in the Apostolic Age (Westminster: Newman, 1950), p. 105: "If any Order has the right to boast of this it is the Canons Regular, rather than ourselves." See also the article "Canons Regular and the Breviary" by Roger Capel, Orate Frates, v. 23 (1948-49), pp. 246-251. ÷ ÷ + ECxoemrdmsuesnity VOLUME 21. 1962 343 ÷ ÷ ÷ Aloysius Mehr, O$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS It is not merely a question of recitatk;n or of singing which, however perfect according to the norms of music and sacred rites, onl)t reaches the ear, but it is especially a question of the ascent ot the mind and heart to God' so that, united with Christ, we may completely dedicate ourselves and all our ac-tions to him.'s Whenever the Divine Office is chanted "worthily, with attention and devotion," it is prayer in the fullest sense of the term, and every genuine prayer cements together the members of a community. "Our deepest contacts with one another can be made only through God.''49 It is only in the depths of prayer that, in the fullest sense of the term, deep calls out to deep, and the soul gives itself to God. In this sense, every genuine prayer is a renewal of religious profession, the leaving of all things and following He-who- is. If the religious community is to blossom forth into a true community of worship and love, it must be able, at all times, to call upon this interior gift to God.5° The central portion of the Divine Office is the Psalter: the Word of God. The best way for men to pray together is to speak with God in God's own words, for the Word of God is formative and expressive of the community. The common chanting of the Psalter is, by and large, a meditar tive re-experiencing together of the great events of sacred history--again a community-forming factor.5x The Psalter is redolent with man's proper responses to God and his works: the spirit of the anawira, the poor in spirit, God's lowly ones through whom sacred history is accomplished. By a continual singing of these prayers day after day for many .years, these attitudes of heart sink into those who give themselves to this prayer with their minds and hearts and bodies. Through the ritual action, the attitudes and events are effectively experienced by the total personality in community; by all the rules of psychology such prayer is extremely capable of transforming one's life as an aLt-thentic individual in the community. A final note on the Divine Office concerns the non-choir members and every other member of the community who has been assigned work incompatible with regular attend-ance at choir. Here it is important to remember that the choir is a community obligation'. In a living community there are many members "just as in one body we have many members, yet all the members have not the same function" (Rom 12:4). Some are sent out as missionaries, others do the cooking, others are engaged in social work--- ~s Mediator Dei, n. 145. ~9 R. W. Gleason, S.J., To Live is Christ (New York: Sheed anti Ward, 1961), p. 11. ~ T. de Ruiter, O.F.M., Her Mysterie van de Kloostergemeenschap (Mechelen: St. Franciskusdrukkerij, 1958), p. 131. ~ Mediator Dei, n. 148. each according to the grace that has been given to him (Rom 12:6). And then there are also those who are not excused and who have the responsibility to be in choir. In each case it is the community at work or at prayer. Whether we are in the choir or legitimately excused, we are all working together in the name of the omhaunity, fulfilling our role in the completion of the cosmic task. 4. Extreme Unction. The communal dimension of ex-treme unction must be viewed from the Christian stand-point on death. The creation of Adam in flesh is the man-ifestation of the mystery of contingency which attends the existence of all things outside of God. Only God is in Himself and by Himself. All other beings tend to fuller being, which implies nonbeing. Death is the natural con-sequence of man's fleshy nature. Since the human race is a community in flesh it is also a community in death. Adam, however, did not accept his contingency. He failed to project beyond the dissolution of flesh to fuller life. He revolted against being the creature who dies, and death became a punishment for this sin. since the human race is a community in sin, it is a community in the pun-ishment of death (Rom 5:12). Christ, the New Adam, humbled himself: took on con-tingency. He submitted, as the suffering Servant, to be the creature who dies, and death became a redemption, a passage into the eternal life for which Adam revolted in vain (Rom 5:15-19; 1 Cot 15:21). Since the Church is a community in redemption, it is a community in triumph over death. Through the Church's sacraments of death and disso-lution, Viaticum and extreme unction, all human suffer-ing. and death is taken into the redemptive sufferings of Christ. The falling apart involved in suffering and death becomes the creative mustering of forces for the upward thrust to a higher level of life. The death of the Christian is his final experience of the Passover of Christ. Without Christ, death is complete loneliness. One leaves the community of his loved ones to go alone into nothing-ness. Christian death conquers this ultimate loneliness. The highpoint of the ritual for the dying is the admin-istration of Holy Viaticum. The Christian does not go alone into death: the Lord comes to take his faithful serv-ant up into his triumphant Passover. The Lord is able to come in Viaticum because the community has celebrated the Eucharistic Passover. Much of the loneliness of death comes from the effect of sin, by which man cuts himself off from the community. In the prayers and anointing for sickness unto death, the healing Lord approaches in the person of the priest to cure the wounds of severance from the community, to re-store the peace of mind that can come only from c6mplete + + + Community Exercises VOLUME 21, 1962 345 4. 4. 4. Aloysius Mehr, O$.C. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 346 reconciliation with the Church. Again, the priest is acting in the name of the community. The death of a Christian is a deep experience for the community in which it occurs. When at all possible, the religious community should be present at the administra-tion of the last sacraments to the dying members of the community, and they should pa.rticipate in the expressive prayers of the ritual. Such a death is a witness to the reality of the triumph of Christ, a real martyrdom. The joyful and peaceful suffering and death of one with whom we live in intimacy is a striking pledge of the reality of Christ's Resurrection and the certainty of the Parousia. Here we have the reason for a quite joyful celebration of a funeral. What is said of death extends also to the sufferings of illness, disease, and serious injury, as well as of old age. Here there is the same factor of dissolution and contin-gency which is at work in death. Illness and death are times of crisis that naturally draw the community together to struggle against the loneliness which has set into our flesh as a result of sin. The serious sufferings of a member of the community are a community experience and ought to be entered into by the community. This involves a patient care and con-cern for the aged and the sick and keeping the community informed of their condition. It means visiting the sick. It would also be good to make use of the magnificent ritual for the visitation of the sick: let the community gather occasionally in the sick room to join in these moving and consoling prayers led by the superior. In the communal carrying out of this sacramental, the healing Lord will be present, and the patient endurance of suffering in the true Christian spirit will again be a witness to the community of the reality of Christ's presence and the certainty of his coming. Epilogue: The Dynamism of the Sacramental Com-munity There is an inherent tension in the very being of a sac-ramental dispensation or system: the tension, inherent in the nature of a sign, toward the fullness of that reality which is less than fully present in the sign. This underlies the call, covenant, and passover aspect of the sacraments and gives them their "obligatory" dimension, their ex-istential imperative. In Christian life this tension is the cosmic covenant: the Christian community's responsibil-ity for the entire cosmos which needs redemption and building up. This means authentic community work. Religious life is Christian response lived to the full in the working out of salvation history. It is charged with the building up of the Church unto the Pleroma, with the hastening of the day of the coming of the Lord (Ac 3:20; 2 Pt 3:11-12

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

Issue 18.4 of the Review for Religious, 1959. ; Two, Prayers John XXIII Prayer for the Church of Silence [On January 23, 1959, the Sacred Penitentiary pub|ish~d the Italian text ~f a prayer composed by the Holy Father for the. Church of Silence. The original text, a translation of which appears.below, is to be found in Acta Apostolicae Sedis, 51 (1959), 112~13. A partial indulgence of three years can be gained by the faithful when they recite the prayer with contrite heart.] OJESUS, Son of God, who lovedthe Church and who gave Yourself for it to sanctify it and to make it appear before You glorious and immaculate (Eph 5:23-27), look down with mercy on the painful conditions to which Your mystical spouse is subjected in certain parts of the Catholic world and especially now in the great nation of the Chinese. ! See, O Lord, the treachery that threatens the souls of Your faithful' and consider the calumnious insinuations leveled against Your pastors, Your ministers, and Your faithful followers who long to spread the truth of the Gospel and that kingdom of Yours which is not of this world. How insistent and dangerous are the attempts to tear the seamless robe of Your spouse, the one, holy, catholic, apostolic, and Roman Church, by separating the hierarchy and the local communities from the only center of truth, authority, and salvation, the See of Peter! Before this spectacle of such grave evils, we ask first of all for pardon for the offenses which are being committed against You. In truth the words spoken by You to Saul of Tarsus on the road to Damascus, "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute Me?" (Acts 9:4), can well be repeated today, as they could be in the course of recent and past history. We trust always in the efficacy of the sublime words You addressed to Your Father from the cross, "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing" (Lk 23:34). As Your sacrifice was the source of universal salvation, so through your grace may the martyrdom which the Church, Your spouse 193 JOHN XXIII Review [or Religious and our mother, suffers in different regions bring salvation all men. O Prince of Peace, grant that the bishops and the priests, the religious and the laity, may always and everywhere be "solici-tous to preserve the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace" (Eph 4:3). May Your omnipotent power overcome every hu-man calculation so that pastors and flocks may remain obedient to the voice of the only universal Pastor, the Roman Pontiff, who feels in his heart the responsibility of that supreme desire of love: "Holy Father, keep in Your name those whom You have given Me, that they may be one as We are" (Jn 17:11). Finally~ O Redeemer, look with satisfaction at the merits and prayers of Your and our Mother, the august Queen of the missions and of the universal Church; look at the labors, the sacrifices, and the blood of "the innumerable heralds of the faith who have always and are still giving heroic testimony to You; and, mindful above all of Your precious Blood shed for many for the remission oz sins, give Your peace to China and to the entire world, because in no other is there hope and victory .and peace, but only in You, our Lord and immortal King of the ages and of the nations. Prayer to the Eucharistic Christ [The following prayer, the orighaal text of which is given in Acta Apostolicae Sedis, 51 (1959), 163-64, was composed by the Holy Father as a preparation for the coming International Eucharistic Congress to be held in Munich, Germany. His Holiness (AAS, 51 [1959], 164) has granted a partial indulgence of ten years to the faithful who devoutly recite the prayer with contrite heart; moreover once a month they may gain a plenary indulgence under the usual conditions, if they have recited the pra~,er daily for a whole month.] O Jesus, King of nations and of ages, accept the acts of adoration and of praise which we, Your brothers by adoption, humbly offer to You. You are "the living Bread come down from heaven which gives life to the world" (Jn 6:33) ; High Priest as well as Victim, You offered Yourself on the cross in a bloody sacrifice of expia-tion to the Eternal Father for the redemption of the human race; 194 July, 1959 Two PRAYS.US and now each day You offer Yourself on our altars by the hands of Your ministers so that there might be restored in each heart Your "kingdom of truth and of life, of holiness and of grace, of justice, of love, and of peace~' (Preface of the Mass of Christ the King). O "King of Glory," may Your kingdom come! Rule from Your "throne of glory" (Heb 4:16) in the hearts of children so that they may keep immaculate the shining purity of their baptismal innocence. Rule in the hearts of youth so that they may grow in wholesomeness and purity and in docility to the voice of those who represent You in the family, in school, and in the Church. Rule in the heart of the home so that parents and children may live united in the observance of Your holy law. Rule in our country so that in the harmonious ordering of the social classes all its citizens may regard themselves as children of the same heavenly Father, called to work together for the common temporal good and happy to belong to that one Mystical Body, of which Your Sacrament is both the symbol and the everlasting source. Rule, finally, O King of Kings and "Lord of Lords" (Deut 10:17) over all the nations of the earth and enlighten the rulers of each nation that, inspired by Your example, they may nourish "thoughts of peace and not of affliction" (Jer 29:11 ). O Eucharistic Jesus, grant that all people may serve You freely in the knowledge that "to serve God is to reign." May Your Sacrament, O Jesus, be a light to the mind, a strength to the will, an attraction to the heart. May it be a support to the weak, a comfort to the suffering, a viaticum of salvation to the dying, and for all may it be a "pledge of future glory." Amen. 195 The Rest:oral:ion ot: All Things in Christ: Richard Cardinal Cushing, D.D., UL.D. [The following address by the Cardinal Archbishop of Boston was delivered as the main address of the Sacred Heart Institute for Nuns conducted by American Directors of the Apostleship of Prayer and held at Roberts Center, Boston College, on April 4, 1959.] THE DEVOTION TO the Sacred Heart makes no appeal whatever to those outside the Church and to some within the Church. It is the story of a nun who had a vision of our Lord in which He showed her a wound on His side. Then He said to her: "Behold the Heart which loves so much, and is loved so little in return." What is this but sentimentalism, and a kind of senti-mentalism which does not appeal to people of our times. My dear Sisters: Is there anything more undignified than the figure of the rejected lover who cannot keep his abandon-ment to himself, but must go about exposing his wounded feel-ings for all the world to see, inviting sympathy because he unloved? Yet that is the figure under which Divine Love rep-resented itself to the apostle of the Sacred Heart--St. Margaret Mary. Why? It may help to understand the answer if we recall that all through the Old Testament this is the kind of language in which Almighty God refers to the disloyalties of His people. The covenant which He made with the Israelites when He brought them out of Egypt was like a marriage contract com-mitting both sides to fidel.ity; and when they turned to the wor-ship of idols, he appealed to that covenant. "And thou," He says through the prophet Jeremias, "and thou with many lovers have been unfaithful; come back to me, and thou shalt find welcome." This is pleading language, and it is God who pleads. When a prophet of the Old Testament speaks like that, he is using a metaphor. The Old Testament is full of metaphors. When others talk about God raising His hand, stretching out 196 I:~ESTORATION IN CHRIST His arm, keeping a watchful eye over His friends, giving a ready ear to their prayers, we'do not think that God, who is pure spirit, has hands or arms or eyes or ears like ourselves. And so it is when God describes himself as a jealous lover. He means that if He were a man, this is how the infidelity of His friends would affect Him. If He were a man? In the fullness of time, He became man; He trod our earth, and was subject, as man, to the play of emotions; He wept and rejoiced. He was indignant, and felt fear. The metaphors had come true at last: God Incarnate really saw with human eyes and stretched out a human hand to save us. And He was accessible like ourselves, to the expressions of feeling which we find so difficult to control. When an injury was done to the honor of His Father in heaven, He flared up; and we read in the New Testament: "Jesus looked upon them with anger." The success of His first missionaries gave Him the same feeling which comes to you and me when good news reaches us, and we read that "At that time, Jesus was filled with gladness." The tragedy of a friend's death was told him. The sad news drew from Him, as it would from us, a 'tribute of natural tears and we read: "Jesus wept." Our Lord did not even hide from us His disappointments: "Jerusalem, Jerusalem, still murdering the prophets, and stoning the messengers that are sent to thee, how often have I been ready to gather thy children together, and thou didst refuse it!" How often--He looks back over the sad record of Jew'ish history; the authentic accents of a Divine Person pierce through the veil of His humanity and here is God weeping with human eyes over tl~e pent-up sorrows of a human heart. Now I think we have the real meaning of the Sacred Heart devotion; it translates the Divine Nature into human terms for us. After all, we find it hard, don't we, to get God into our mind-picture? We cannot portray Him--His glory dazzles us; we are confused b~ the thought of the enormous gulf which lies between Him and creatures. We know that His Providence 197 CARDINAL CUSHING Review for Religious extends over all His works; He cares even for the sparrows, and yet. He is so great, and we are so small! Even our sins-- just an unkind word said about a neighbor, and we tell ourselves and we confess that we have offended God; think of the scale of the thing, our little lapse, and His infinite existence, put side by side! And then think of tl~e Sacred Heart, and all at once the whole thing becomes vivid, clear. Jesus Christ in heaven, taking an interest in our tiny needs, as He took an interest in many tiny needs on earth. Jesus Christ hurt by our sins, as He was hurt by so many slights and disappointments up and down the villages of Galilee. The echoes of our prayer no longer seem to die away in infinite distance; they strike a chord in the Sacred Heart, and become vocal to us, real to us. If critics object that we are too sentimental over our devo-tion in honor of the Sacred Heart, that we single out one partic-ular side of our Lord's character, represent Him too insistently in one particular attitude, one of mercy and tenderness and wel-come, let us remind them that it is these qualities in the Divine Nature which we find it most difficult to believe. Here, most of all, we need a diagram in flesh and blood to convince us. How can God, so upright a judge, be merciful? How can He, who is without passion, be tender to us? How can He, who has no need of human companionship, welcome us? It is these qualities, that we rejoice to see mirrored in the Sacred Heart. Our Sacred Heart statues and holy pictures represent our Lord in one particular attitude, as He revealed Himself to Sister Margaret Mary, an attitude of tender abasement, of mournful pleading with mankind. Again critics wonder. Is this your Christ, they ask, this weak, womanish figure, in a posture of sentimental appeal? Is your religion all sugary sweetness, all variations on a minor key? Has it stopped still with the seventeenth century; has it no mes-sage for today? And to that we answer, No, you have it all wrong. The Sacred Heart is the treasury of all those splendid qualities with which a perfect life was lived; it is the repository of 198 July, 1959 RESTORATION IN CHRIST all those noble thoughts which mankind still venerates in the Gospels'. It was the Sacred. Heart that burned with anger when the traders were driven out of the Temple; it was the Sacred Heart that loved the rich young man, yet would not spare him; it was the Sacred Heart that defied Pilate in his own judgment-hall. It is strong and stern and enduring; it hates prevarications and pretences. The perfect flowering of a human life, not on this occasion or that, but all the way, all the time, the utter sacrifice of a human will-- that is what the Sacred Heart means. There is no picture, no statue on earth that can portray its infinite beauty. The perfect flowering of our life at all times and in all ways; that should be the harvest of our devotion, dedication, and con-secration to the Sacred Heart. Religious, more than any other group of the followers of Christ, have the opportunity to reach that ideal. They have the available means and opportunity to answer the plea of the Sacred Heart for the return of human love for love divine. In the silent anonymity of your community life, you offer day by day the sacrifice of your personal independence and your natural yearning for recognition and human affection. If you live consist-ently with the ideals of your religious profession, you can truly say that you have left all things and have become so Christlike as to have produced the perfect flowering of your own life in the life of the Sacred Heart. Your vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience leave nothing for yourself. Through these vows, the essence of the religious life, you become one with God. How could you attain to a more perfect flowering of your life? Truth-fully you are called Sponsae Christi. In this capacity you can kneel each morning before the alkar on which the Sacrifice of Calvary is renewed and identify your love with the love of the Eternal Priest in humble and self-less fulfillment of the ideals of perfection which He Himself estab-lished in His earthly life. It is not without significance, therefore, that the spread of devotion to the Sacred Heart in modern times owes its origin 199 CARDINAL CUSHING Review for Religious to the apparitions of our Blessed Lord not to some renowned scholar or churchman but to a lowly nun. St." Margaret Mary was one of yourselves. Her call to the religious life, her postu-lancy and novitiate, her profession of religious vows, her long years of obedience to her rule and prayerful cooperation with the wishes of her superiors--all these circumstances of her life have their counterparts in the life of each one of you, St. Margaret Mary also found the same difficulty which you experience in following up the inspirations of God's grace which come so mysteriously to those who are closely associated with apostolic works. Neither religious themselves, nor those who cooperate with them in realizing the objectives of their various communities, can ever understand completely the divine orienta-tion of the human impulses out of which the success of any reli-gious community is drawn. As we look back over the centuries at what happened be-tween 1673 and 1675 in a little French village, we can see clearly that the judgments of psychologists and the cautious reserve of theologians and canonists have all played their part in the spread of the devotion to the Sacred Heart of which St. Margaret Mary was destined to be the modern apostle. They could not under-stand sentimentalism of this kind for they did not recall that Christ was man as well as God, human as well as divine. What stands out unmistakably in her life is her humble and charitable forbearance in the face of adverse personal criticism and her unquestioning submission to the authority of the Church. That indeed is one of many phases of the perfect flowering of human life: the total sacrifice of one's will to the will of another. Her spiritual directors understood her and guided her with sympathy and encouragement; she followed their counsel and obeyed to the last detail their suggestions of hopeful expectancy of eventual approval, A soul which is illumined by divine grace, a will that is one with the will of God, is never stubborn or un-disciplined. Margaret Mary's own certainty of the truth of the revelations made to her brought likewise the conviction that God's 200 July, 1959 RESTORATION IN CHRIST plans would be realized in God's own way and in God's own time. She knew that she was but the instrument of the power and mercy \ of Him who had afforded her unquestionable evidence of His love. She knew that the Christ, who had revealed to her the richness of His own inner life, was also the Christ who had founded His Church and who had'sent His Holy Spirit to abide within it until the end of time. In this peaceful and undisturbed awareness of her own relation to Christ our Lord, she was content to suffer the disappointment and frustration that would be in-volved in the reconditioning of men's souls which the spread of devotion to the Sacred Heart would bring about. When we look at Margaret Mary from this point of view, we see in her a great-ness of soul and a discerning penetration of divine wisdom which the humble circumstances in which she lived and died could never have revealed to those who knew her as a sister in religion and as a fellow human being. She is the messenger, the apostle of the devotion to the Sacred Heart because her heart gave all to the Heart of Christ. The beauty of her soul was the perfect flowering of life. And here, I think, is the great lesson which you, my beloved religious, can take to yourselves. In your life as religious you must share in the sorrows and sufferings which were glorified on the Cross. This is the meaning for you of the mystery of the Sacred Heart which was made known to the world by one of your number. How can that be accomplished? First of all, by self-immolation. To seek for oneself alone in religious life any measure of comfort or self-gratification is to substitute the prudence of the world for the prudence of the brides of God. As spouses of Christ, you must be faithful to your mystical espousal and marriage and accept cheerfully the burdens of community life and surrender yourselves without reservation to the demands which your respective congregations may make on you as they carry on their appointed apostolic works. Secondly, in your religious life you must resemble Christ in the mediating functions of His priesthood. The sacred humanity 201 CARDINAL CUSHING Review for Religious of Christ, symbolized in its ministrations of love by the Heart which was pierced with a lance, enable Christ to stand as a mediator between God and men. So too the religious, living in the world even while separated from it by the boundaries of her cloister, brings God into the lives of others as she carries on her varied works. The religious is thus in a very real sense a mediatrix between God and men. Those whom you serve are thereby raised from earth to heaven by the unselfish detachment with which you apply your-selves to works upon which material values may be set. Thus you are able to stand at Christ's side as His devoted helpers. Thus you are drawing men's souls to Christ as did Christ Him-self in His revelation of God's love for man in the visible form of His human nature. Thirdly, your principal objective as religious must always be to diffuse into the souls of others the love of Christ. How dismally we fail, even while we seem to be successful, if we have gained spectacular victories in ambitious undertakings at the cost oi: arousing bitterness and dissension among those with whom we live and work! In the companionship of your sisters in reli-gion, in your relations with your superiors, in the services which you render to your community, in your ministrations of charity and mercy to the faithful, you must always be a messenger of divine love and an inspiring example of the practice of Christian charity. I don't know of any othdr way in which we can respond to the appeal for love from the heart of Christ unless it would be to crystalize that response by fidelity to the spirit and letter of the Morning. Offering of the Apostleship of Prayer. This is more than a prayer formula, it is a way of life by which every act of the day becomes transformed into a prayerful tribute to the Sacred Heart. It is also the way of gpiritual child-hood for it sanctifies the ordinary things of life into extraordinary spiritual power and unites us to the sacrifice of the Mass through-out the world~ The Morning Offering is also the greatest means by which we can recognize the importance of each day in our lives. Each 202 July, 1959 RESTORATION IN CHRIST day is life in miniature. Today is unique; it has never happened before, it can never happen again. For one moment it is all-important, fills the.stage; tomorrow it will have taken its place in the unreal pageant of dead yesterdays. It has a significance, then, all its own; but this significance belongs to it because it is related to a series. We may think of it as the beginning of a series, the first day of a new departure in our lives. Or we may think of it as one day among others, with the same duties, cares, temptations as the others. Or we may think of it' as the last~ of a series; one today will be the last of all our todays, with eternity for its infinite tomorrow, and it may be this. Think of this day, for example, as the beginning of a new departure. How shall we begin? Not by any frantic efforts of our own; we will begin by listening to the voice of God: Hodie si vocem eius audieritis, nolite obdurare corda vestra. We speak to Him through ou.r spiritual exercises, and we unite ourselves with all the members of His Mystical Body throughout the world by today's offering of everything we do to Him. There is another use we may make of the magic word today. Instead of worrying about whether we shall ever commit our cus-tomary sins again, let us simply resolve not to commit them today. Dignare Dornine die isto sine peccato nos custodire; let us see if we can't cheat the devil, like some grasping creditor, by saying "Not just yet; not today." And let us ask simply for the grace which is needed to avoid those sins just in the sixteen hours that lie between bed-time and bed-time. Die isto, let us make today a holiday from our venial sins. This day without sin- we will avoid, His grace helping us, those little daily repeated irreverences by which we offend Him. This day without sin- we will especially avoid sinning against ourselves, by the wrong use of God's creatures. And we will avoid sinning against our neighbors. We know the sisters we have to live with, the little t~aults ot~ manner and behavior .which get on our nerves, all the more surely because they are repeated day by day. This day, with this gladness in our hearts, we will 203 CARDINAL CUSHING greet them with a cheerfulness which is infectious, which lightens their burden as well as our own. A smile at all times- how much difference that can make to life's tragedies! Today, sanctified and enriched by the Morning Offering, becomes like a sacrament from which we can derive not only an inspiration for the future, the future that may be so different if we will use today aright; not only a warning for the present, to make us avoid this day the temptations that every day beset us, but an attitude, also, towards the past, an attitude of abiding penitence and reparation. Let us remember our sins each day, as if we had no more space left for sinning; let us repent for them, as this were our last opportunity of contrition. And He, who re-turned to heaven with the penitent thief for His escort, will shorten our purgatory and hasten to unite us with Himself. Hodie vocem audieritis ~ it can never be too early to begin our conver-sion. Hodie eris mecum in paradiso ~ thank God, it can never be too late. Our renewed consecration today to the Sacred Heart gives evideace of our appreciation of the tremendous potential which you have at your disposal for the restoration of all things in Christ. We consecrate you anew to the Sacred Heart because you belong to Christ, because you are one with Christ, and because your efforts are so powerful and so indispensable for the realization of His divine mission. Let me become the spokesman for each one of you as I repeat the words of consecration which St. Mar-garet Mary formulated as she gave expression to her own consum-ing love ot: Christ her Lord: I consecrate to the Sacred Heart of our Lord Jesus Christ my person and my life, my actions, pains and sufferings, so that I may be unwilling to make use of any part of my being save to honor, love and glorify the Sacred Heart . Do Thou consume in me all that can displease Thee or resist Thy holy will. Let Thy pure love imprint Thee so deeply upon my heart that I shall never more be able to forget Thee or~to be separated from Thee. May I obtain the grace of having my name written in Thee, for in Thee I desire to place all my happi-ness and all my glory, living and dying in very bondage to Thee. Amen. 204 The AAariology of Pope Plus XII John A. Hardon, S.J. IT IS EASY to write on Pope Pius XII and the Blessed Virgin Mary because there is so much to say. We might recall how as a young boy in Rome he would stop every day to visit the shrine of Madonna della Strada at the Church of the Gesu where, as he told his mogher, "I pray and tell Mary everything." Or we might reflect on his life-long devotion to the rosary, his frequent sermons on our Lady, his constant reference to her in his writings or, in summary, his own testimony shortly after election to the papacy, that "our priestly life began with Mary and has always been directed under her motherly eye." In all this profusion of Marian piety, one aspect may be overlooked. Pius XII made a substantial contribution to the science of Mariology, a contribution concerning which, no doubt, volumes will be written in the years to come. We shall examine only the highlights of a large subject, whose implications have an important bearing on the whole body of Christian asceticism. The Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary On November i, 1950, Pius XII answered the requests of the Catholic hierarchy with a solemn definition that, "by the authority.of our Lord Jesus Christ, of the Blessed Apostles Peter and Paul, and by Our own authority, We pronounce, declare and define as a divinely revealed dogma: The Immaculate Mother of God, Mary ever Virgin, after her life on earth, was assumed body and soul to the glory of heaven." The spontaneous reaction of the faithful was gratitude for the exalted honor paid to the Mother of God. The Pope's own sentiments were expressed to the bishops gathered in Rome for the occasion, when he told them the joy he felt over the proclamation and the assurance it gave him that Mary would obtain the graces of which mankind stood in such dire need. On the level of piety and devotion, therefore, Mary's Assumption was only the climax in a series of definitiong 205 JOHN A. HARDON Review for Religious to honor the Blessed Virgin, beginning with the divine maternity at Ephesus and terminating in the past century with her Immaculate Conception. But dogmatically the constitution Munificentissimus Deus has a much deeper significance that de-serves to be recognized. Shortly before the actual definition but after its public an-nouncement, the Anglican bishops of England lodged a formal protest against the "new" dogma. "We profoundly regret," they said, "that the Roman Catholic Church has chosen by this action to increase dogmatic differences in Christendom and has thereby gravely injured the growth of understanding between Christians based on a common possession of the fundamental truths of the Gospel." The Anglican complaint was not a wild gesture. It exposed their radical opposition to the Church's authority over Christian doctrine, which I believe many Catholics ~do not fully appreciate. Pope Pius defined Mary's Assumption as a truth divinely revealed. Of the two sources of revelation, theologians com-monly say the Assumption was implicit in tradition, in spite of the practical absence of documentary evidence before 300 A.D. Some years before the definition, a scholarly work was published under Vatican auspices on The Silence of the Early Centuries on the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. The author frankly admitted that except for apocryphal sources we have no explicit witness in the early patristic age. Yet the Pope finally declared the doctrine was in revelation. How do we know? On the answer to this question rests a new insight into Christian tradi-tion which had been gaining momentum since the eighteenth century. Briefly stated, tradition is coming to be identified more and more with the Church's magisterium or teaching office and less exclusively as the genetic source, along with Scripture, of the truths of salvation. Behind this new emphasis is a development of dogma since the Council of Trent which reveals hidden depths of power in the Mystical Body of Christ. The Church is being seen more clearly as not only the guardian of a faith once and for 206 July, 1959 MARIOLOGY OF PIUS XII all given-to the Apos.tles, but as perpetual expositor of that faith in every age to the end of time. In August of the same year that he defined the Assumption, the Pope laid down the principles~ which guided the Marian defini-tion. The Church's teaching authority, he said in Humani generis, is not confined to reflecting or consolidating the past. It is also, ~nd especially, the vital, presetit-day function of an organism animated by the Spirit of God: "Together with the sources of revelation (Scripture:and tradition) God has given to His Church a living magisterium to elucidate and explain what is contained in the deposit of faith only obscurely :and, as it were, by implication," The degree of obscurity, we may add, is irrelevant. Given this faculty by her 0~:ounder, whose" Spirit of truth abides with her at all times, the Church can infallibly discern what belongs to revela-tion no matter how cryptic the contents may be. Consequently whenl Pius XII defined the Assumption, he did more than propose the doctrine for acceptance by the faith-ful or give them a new motive for devotion to the Blessed Mother. He vindicated as never before the Church's i~ower to authorize a legitimate development in doctrine .and pii~ty that scandalizes those outside the true faith and may even surprise b~elieving Catholics. The Assumption thus becomes part Of a'larger process, along with Catholic Action, the litui:gical movement and even such practical matters as the mitigated Eucharistic fast, in which the current problems of the Church and the present needs of souls are being met by the Holy Spirit: It was no coincidence that on the day following the Assump-tion d~finition the Pope expressed, the hope that this new honor to Mary would intrbduce "a spirit of penance to replace the' prevalent love of pleasure, and a renewal of family lifE, stabilized where divorce was common and made fruitful where birth control was practiced." If there is one feature that characterizes the modern world it is 'the cult of the body. Science and ingenuity exhaust themselves in providing for bodily comforts, avoidance of pain, and the.pampering of every sensual desire. Divorce and 207 JOHN A. HARDON Review for Religious birth control, lurid reading and entertainment are only symptoms of a deeper malady for which revelation provides at least one Certain remedy: faith in the resurrection of the body, for us on the last day as for Mary on the day of her departure from this life. Since the body is made to be immortal, it is infinitely im-portant to provide for its eternal happiness by discipline and sell control--because the alternative is also bodily immortality, but in hell, as the price of earthly pleasure against the will of God. The Immaculate Conception Three years after defining the dogma of the Assumption, Pius XII Called on the Catholic world to join in the observance of a Marian Year from December, 1953, to December, 1954, to commemorate the centenary of Pius IX's definition of the Immaculate Conception. He introduced the Marian Year with the encyclical Fulgens corona, whose doctrinal content went far beyopd the immediate purpose of proclaiming a season of special prayers to the Mother of God. According to the late Pontiff,. the Assumption was a conse-quence of the Immaculate Conception, not merely in the super-ficial sense of something suitable, but in the. strict logic of supernatural merit and providence. "These two singular privi-leges bestowed upon the Mother of God stand out in most splendid light as the beginning and the end of her earthly journey. ,For the greatest possible glorification of her virgin body is the comple-ment, at once appropriate and marvelous, of the absolute inno-cence of her soul which was free from all stain. Just as she took part in the struggle of her only-begotten Son with the serpent of hell, so also she shared in His glorious triumph over sin and its sad consequences." This correlation between the two mysteries has a long and respected theological history, which other statements of Pius XII indicate that he knew very well. Addressing the National Eucha-ristic Congress of Cuba in 1947, he acknowledged the petition which the Cubans 'had sent to the Holy See relative to Mary's 208 July, 1959 MARIOLOGY OF PIUS XlI Assumption. "This mystery must certainly be true, according to the mind of him who has rightly been called the Doctor Eximius, who teaches that this privilege is most eminently congruent with the innocence and purity of the Virgin Mary." The Doctor Eximius was Francis Suarez, the sixteenth-century theologian. whose Disputations on the Blessed Mother are the most exhaustive in classic Mariology. Again in the actual document of definition, the Pope referred to Suarez's conclusion that "the mystery of the Assumption was to be believed with the same firmness of assent as that given to the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin. Thus he already held that such truths could be defined." How are the Immaculate Conception and the Assumption related in Suarez, and by implication in Pius XII? Their rela-tion arises from the subtle but necessary connection between sin and its consequences in the after-life. The souls of the just in heaven, says Suarez, still desire and seek the glorification of their bodies. To the extent to which this is lacking to them, they are deprived of the perfection of beatitude, even though only in accidentals. When the soul of Mary, therefore, was separated t~rom her body, this hunger and desire for "the perfect perfection" were not absent. Being always full of grace, she had a title to perfect glory on leaving this world. And what Mary desired, she must immediately have obtained, in virtue of her exalted position and "by a mother's right." Therefore just as during her stay on earth she had never contracted the least stain ofsin, so after this life she was freed from every corruption and sequel that are the wages of sin. Her body was not to decay, nor was she to wait until the last day, as others who are sinners, to rise with her body from the grave. In the same document, Fulgens corona, the Pope made an-other association, this time a historical one, and not between the first and final mysteries in the life of the Blessed Virgin but be-tween the Immaculate Conception and the supernatural phe-nomena at Lourdes. In his judgment, "the Virgin 1QIary herself wished to confirm by some special sign the definition which the 209 JOH~ A. HARDON Review for Religious Vicar of Christ her divine Son on earth had pronounced amid the applause of the whole Church. Four years had not yet elapsed ¯ ~hen, in the French town at the foot of the Pyrenees, the Virgin Mother showed herself to a simple and innocent girl at the grotto of Messabielle, And to this same girl, earnestly inquiring the name of her with whose vision she was favored, with eyes raised to heaven and sweetly smiling, she replied, 'I am the Immaculate Conception.' " Following the original visions, thousands of peo-ple from every country in the world have made pilgrimages'to Lourdes, where "miraculous favors were granted them, which excited the admiration of all and confirmed the Catholic religion as the only one given approval by God." This judgment is highly significant. In the last analysis, a Catholic wants to prove that no other religion than his own is from God, he must invoke some principle by which any religious system can be tested and its divine authorization verified. Such a principle is the norm of miracles, which even the unlettered primitive can understand. It says simply that when God com-municates a revelation (as claimed in some form by every organ-ized religion), He will confirm the mysteries He reveals and make them rationally acceptable by working miracles in favor of the truths that He wants believed. Or put negatively, He will not work miracles in support of a pretended revelation because, as master of the miraculous, He would be actively cooperating in a lie. In the context of the Lourdes apparitions and the constant stream of preternatural wonders there granted by God, this means that what Lourdes stands for is perennially attested as true. The Immaculate Conception is a strict mystery, not even conceivable apart from revelation. Miracles are visible signs of divine inter-vention that lead the well-disposed to believe (or strengthen their belief) in what cannot be seen, on the argument that the same agency which produces the phenomena also revealed the doc-trine in whose atmosphere the phenomena take place. 210 July, 1959 MARIOLOGY OF P~us XII Mediatrix of Graces . The !ast element in the triad of Marian privileges to which Pius XII made a lasting theological contribution is Mary's role as universal mediatrix of graces. On the fourth anniversary of the Assumption dogma and in closing the Marian Year, the Pope instituted a new feast of the Queenship of Mary, for May 31, and in the encyclical Ad caeli Reginam elaborated on the basic principles that underlay Mary's royalty, namely, her unique posi-tion as liaison between Christ and the humar~ race. An examination of the teaching of the fathers of the Church since the rime'of Origen, Ephrem, and St. Jerome shows a prac-tical unanimity in regarding the mother of Jesus as sharing with Him, albeit subordinately, a truly royal dignity~. Ephrem called her "Empress and Ruler"; Origen, "Mistress and Queen"; the seventh ecumenical council spoke of her as "the Lady ruler ~of all Christians"; and in modern times, Benedict XIV gave her the title "Queen of heaven and earth." The ancient tradition is re-flected in the liturgy of the East which poetically addresses Mary as "carried into heaven on the. chariots of the cherubim, the seraphim wait upon thee and the ranks of the heavenly host bow before thee." Familiar hymns like the Salve Regina and prayers like the Litany of Loretto confirm the sentiments of Christian art since the Council of Ephesus (431 A.D.) which "portrays Mary as Queen and Empress seated upon a royal throne, adorned with the royal insignia, crowned with the royal diadem and surrounded by the host of angels and saints in heaven and ruling not only nature and its powers but also over the machinations of Satan." However, more important than the evidence of its traditional character is the dogmatic basis for Mary's queenship which the late Pontiff traced to her divine maternity and her association with Christ in the redemption .of the world. The Pope synthesized in bold analogy the Catholic doctrine which some theo.logians con-sider definable. The Blessed Virgin has not only received the grade of excellence and perfection which is supreme after that of Christ Himself but has also received some sharing 'of that et~icacy by which her Son and our 211 JOHN A. HARDON Review for Religious Redeemer is rightly and properly said to reign over the minds and wills of men. For if the word of God performs miracles and gives graces through the humanity He has assumed, if He employs the sacra-ments and His saints as instruments for the salvation oi~ souls, why should He not use His mother's office and efforts to bring us the fruits of the Redemption? We may transmit the comparison between Mary's intercessory power and that of other saints. Certainly if they can pray in our behalf and obtain favors we should not otherwise receive, how much more the Queen of Saints and the Mother of the Author of grace. The remarkable thing is to associate the Blessed Virgin's share in our Redemption with the humanity of her divine Son and to compare its efficacy with the function of the sacramental system. Both analogies are penetrating concepts. By relating Mary's role of mediatrix to the human nature of Christ, the Pope wished to emphasize what even Catholics are liable to forget, that while God can perform by His own power all that is effected by created natures, yet in the counsels of His providence He has preferred to help men by the instrumentality of other men- whose efficacy for sanctifying others depends on their proximity to the human nature assumed by the Son of God. Viewed in this light, the potentiality of the Blessed Virgin as an instrument of grace takes on staggering proportions. As the woman whose consent mad~ the Incarnation possible, who carried in her womb and brought into the world the Word made flesh, and whose association with Christ during His life and sympathy in death were the most intimate conceivable- her efficacy at the throne of God must be, without fear of exaggeration, "almost immeasurable in power." If we compare Mary's mddiation with the sacraments of the New Law, we gain a further insight into her place in the economy' of salvation. We know that on the level of sanctification nothing is more internal than heavenly 'grace which begets holiness; and yet the ordinary and chief means of obtaining grace are external, in the form of sacraments administered by men specially chosen for that purpose and by means of external rites. In baptism 212 July, 1959 MARIOLOGY OF PIUS XII there is pouring of water; in confirmation and extreme unction, anointing with oil; in orders, the imposition of hands; in matri-mony, the expressed acceptance by the two spouses; and in pen-ance, the vocal and visible absolution by the priest. All these actions are external and their agents are all human, but condi-tioned on their performance in the spirit of faith, such trans-cendent changes occur in the spiritual world as the removal of a life[ime of sin by a sign of the cross and the conversion of a piece of bread into the Body of Christ. ' The more clearly we see ho.w the Blessed. Virgin shares in this type of sacramental effciency, the less scandalized we shall be to say that "as God is the Father and Lord of the universe, preparing all by His power, so the Blessed Mary, repairing all things by her merits, is the ruler and mother of all." While re-maining subordinate to her Son as a creature to her Creator, she was instituted by Him on the cross as the great sacrament of His mercy and the visible sign of internal grace which He promised to those who, like Plus XII, "approach with confidence to the throne of our Queen and Mother to beg help in difficulty, light in dark-ness, and solace in trouble and sorrow." 213 Practice ot: t:he Noly See ,Joseph F. ~llen, S.,.J. CANON 509, § 1, obliges all superiors to inform their sub-jects of all decrees of the ~Holy See concerning religious and to enforce such decrees. The activity and mind and will of the Holy See are also revealed, and sometimes in a more practical manner, by approved constitutions and com-munications addressed to individual religious institutes. article drawn from these sources was published in the REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS in 1953. This article is based on the same sources concerning lay institutes ~ from January 1, 1954. The order of material followed in the article is the usual order the chapters of constitutions of lay institutes. This is the third part of a series of three. 14. Dismissal. It is canonically interesting that the con-stitutions of an order of women, who recently received permis-sion to resume solemn vows, contain the following article: "A professed of either perpetual simple vows or of solemn vows who is dismissed from the institute is by this very fact dispensed from her vows of religion.''3° 1 5. The general chapter. (a) Convocation and members. A most interesting fact canonically is the appearance of a procuratrix general to handle the affairs of a pontifical congre-gation of women with the Holy See. The article in a set of constitutions recently approved by the Holy See reads as follows: "The procuratrix general resides in Rome and transmits the affairs of the congregation to the Roman Curia according to the intentions and directions of the institute. The procuratrix general has the right to attend the general chapter and to give her suffrage.''31 (b) Invitation of non-capitulars to the general chapter. Several constitutions of recent date empower the IBM., 16-1957-282. Ibid., 16-1957-114-16. 214 PRACTICE OF THE HOLY SEE superior general, either alone or with the advice or consent his or her council, to summon or invite the following non-capitulars to the general chapter: one or more religious ot: the same institute to .assist the secretary of the chapter as steno-graphers, other religious of the same institute to any session, and a priest or lay person to present and discuss a question of interest to the capitulars. It is evident that none of these are permitted to vote and that all such religious of the same institute are obliged to secrecy in the same manner as the capitulars. It seems prudent to add the observation that the capitulars should have sufficient time for discussion of a matter after such a consultant has left, since often they would at least hesitate to express their opinions fully before such a person, particularly if he or she is not a member of the same institute. I have seen such provisions only in recent constitutions; but some of them, for example, that on the stenographers, have been followed in fact by some institutes. Unless expressly forbidden by the particular constitutions, these ~. provisions may be followed by any institute, since they are not contrary to canon law and are entirely reasonable in themselves. In any revision of the constitutions, art institute should consider ar~ article of the following tenor: The superior general (or with the advice or consent of his or her council) may summon other religious to assist in the clerical or similar work of the chapter. He may also summon such religious and even invite an extem for consultation or to present and discuss questions with the chapter. None of these are permitted to vote, and all such religious have the same obligation as the capitulars to secrecy. (c) Delegates. i° Necessity of delegates. The Holy See de-mands a system of delegates for the general and provincial chapters and does not permit in centralized institutes what we may style a universal chapter, for example, that all the religious pf perpetual vows be members of the general or provincial chapter. This necessity was repeated in a recent reply to a quinquennial report. A system of delegates is also necessary 215 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious now for the general and regional chapters of nuns. The neces-sity of delegates was emphasized in the REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 10-1951-187-90. The elected delegates from a province to the general chapter are almost universally two, most rarely three or four. The Holy See has approved, eoen recently, variations of this norm, for example, "one or two delegates according as the province has less or more than a hundred members"; "one delegate for each province but two delegates for any province that exceeds three hundred." 2° Added delegates from larger houses. It has been practically universal that a larger house elected only one delegate, no matter l~ow many religious of active voice it contained. Added delegates were very rarely admitted, for example, one delegate for every twelve religious. There has been a greater willingness on the, part of the Holy See in recent years to permit such added delegates. However, one of the defects of the house system is that it puts a large and unwieldy number in the general or provincial chapter as the institute increases in size. This difficulty is evidently intensified by the system of added dele-gates. Furthermore, proportional representation is not de-manded. The business of a general chapter is not the interests or the affairs of a particular house or province but only those of the institute as a whole. The same principle is true of the provincial chapter. 3° New systems. A fundamental variation of the group system recently approved by the Holy See is as follows. A first list is made of all local superiors and a second of all the subjects with passive voice. The latter are arranged in groups according to horizontal precedence, that is, each group has a proportionate number of older and younger re-ligious~ Copies of the two lists are sent to every religious with. active voice. Each of these votes for a determined number of local superiors and a determined number of subjects from each group of the second list. Those with the next highest number of votes are the substitutes. Therefore, every such religious votes for all the local superiors and subjects who will 216 July, 1959 PRACTICE OF THE HOLY SEE be members of the general or provincial chapter. The system may be further varied by sending out the list of superiors first and including in the second list all local SUl~eriors not elected in the first election. The following is an example of another new system, which has been approved for at least two institutes by the Holy See. The superiors of all houses of at least twelve religious are members of the general chapter in virtue of their office. The number of delegates from the houses is apparently established by the superior general with the consent of his council. Let us suppose that twenty is the established number. Each religious Who has active voice votes for twenty delegates from the entire institute. A graduated value is given to this vote: for example, if Brother Francis is the first name voted for, he receives twenty points; Brother Robert, the last name on the same ballot, receives one point. Or the relative value can be computed as one and one-twentieth. The votes are necessarily sent in to the general council, and thus a relative majority decides the elections. Those with the next highest number of votes are the substitutes. One objection to this system is the complicated computation of the votes. Some have objected also to the fact that the local superiors are members of the chapter in virtue of their office and to the power of varying the number of delegates from the houses. Another institute proposed the same system to the Holy See; but the number of delegates, twenty, was fixed by the constitutions, no local superior was a member of the chapter in virtue of his office, the delegates could be either local superiors or subjects, and the same value was given to a vote for a religious no matter in what place his name was found on the individual ballot. The Holy See approved this proposed text with two exceptions, the number of delegates was reduced to fifteen, and the local superiors of houses of at least'twenty subjects were made ex officio members of the general chapter. (d) Preliminary sessions. Some recent constitutions, as also several approved in the past, command the superior general to give the general chapter a 217 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious copy also of the last quinquennial report ~o the Holy See. (e) Postulation of superior general. The Holy See admitted the postulation of a mother gerieral for a third successivd six-year term but expressly excluded further postulation of the same religious. (f) Election of the general officials. 1° Election or appointment of the secretary general and bursar general. In a fairly recent communication to one institute, the Sacred Congregation stated that these two officials should be ex officio members of the general chapter because of their general knowledge of the institute. The validity of this reason is evident. .~It could be well appliedto some other offices, for example, the general supervisor of schools and studies. If elected, these two officials uniformly have such membership. The Holy See, also in recent years, has sometimes approved the appointment of either or both of these officials by the superior general with the consent of his council, in some cases with and in others without ex officio membership in the "general chapter. I personally doubt that a general chapter is a good judge ~f the specialized abilities demanded by these offices~32 It seems to me that the preferable policy is to appoint both of these officials with ex officio membership in the general chapter. 2° Incompatible offices. In the Former practice of the Holy See, one of the general councilors, except the first, could be elected also as secretary general; but the bursar general could not be a general councilor. Constitutions that contain this provision must evidently be observed. In constitutions more recently approved, the Sacred Congregation permits any of the councilors except the first to be also either secretary, or bursar general. One institute received an indult permitting the first councilor, or assistant general, to be also bursar general, provided that no inefficiency resulted to the first office. (g) Chapter of affairs. 1° Committees. An article of the following type is more efficient than the one usually found in constitu-tions: "At least two .weeks before the opening of the chapter, 32 Ibid., 10-1951-190-91. 218 July, 1959 PRACTICE OF THE HOLY SEE a committee of three or more chapter delegates, appointed by the mother general in consultation with her council, shall examine and prepare for the chapter all the matters submitted by the hohses for which the decision of the chapter is necessary. This committee shall classify all questions submitted and present them to the general chapter for action." 2° Public voting. The general norm of public rather than secret voting in this chapter is also more efficient and is contained in some recent constitu-tions, for example, "The business of the chapter will be settled by the majority of votes, by secret ballot if the majority of the chapter requests it." 3° Duration of ordinances of general chapter. The following norm of a set of constitutions recently approved is more reasonable than the one commonly found in constitutions: "The decisions and enactments of the general chapter remain in effect permanently unless amended or rescinded by subsequent chapters." 4° Duration of ordinances of a ,superior. At least two recent sets of constitutions state: "Every order gi~,en by a superior ceases to. bind on the expira-tion of his term of office." This should have been qualified. As Van Hove well states: "Many ordinances enacted from dominative power continue to exist on the cessation from office of the superior who established them, because they are im-plicitly renewed by his successor, who is presumed to intend that the customary order in a community continue to be observed until he changes it.''33 16. The superior general. The quinquennial report. The only article in this chapter of the constitutions that needs com-ment is that on the quinquennial report to the Holy See. Every religious institute is now obliged to make this report, for example, independent monasteries, independent houses, and diocesan congregations of men and women are also held to the report.34 The following comments were i:ound in the replies of the Sacred Congregation to several reports. Whenever a Van Hove, .De Leglbus Ecclesiasticis, I, n. 359, note 4; cf. Jone, Commen. tarium in Codicem Iuris Canonici, I, 46. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 15-1956-156~57. 219 JOSEPH F. GALLEIq Review for Religious pontifical document is mentioned, its date and protocol number should be given, for example, March 19, 1955, Prot. N. 6097/54. Each house should have a book of chronicles in which the principal events of the house are recorded and should also have its own files and archives. The acts of the general chapter, that is, the elections made and the ordinances enacted, not the minutes, should be sent to the Sacred Congregation by pontifical institutes. The following question also caused difficulty: "How do superiors see to it that the decrees of the Holy See which concern religious be known and observed by their own subjects?" This obligation is incumbent on all superiors by the prescription of canon 509, ~ 1. The Sacred Congregation was dissatisfied with many replies to this question. It seems to me that the answer was easy with regard to knowledge, i. e., all houses subscribe to the REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, in which such documents are explained, and all houses have the fol-lowing work, in which the text of such documents is given in Eng-lish, Bouscaren, Canon Law Digest, I-IV (The Bruce Publishing Company, Milwaukee). Circular letters of higher superiors should call the attention of their subjects to such documents and insist their observance. Their enforcement should also be part of the ordi-nary government of all superiors, should be included in the reports of lower to higher superiors, and be investigated and insisted on in the canonical visitations of higher superiors. Since the Sacred Congregation insists even on local archives, it seems to me that a religious institute should always be given the original rescript from the Holy See that concerns it or at least a photographic copy of such a rescript, and not a mere summary in English of the contents of the rescript. The names of the prefects and officials of the Roman congregations who sign rescripts are often most inaccurately stated and trans-lated into English by lay religious. This is true of the name, the title, and the office. These mistakes are frequently quite public, for example, on the documents appended to the con-stitutions. Those who transmit rescripts should translate these 220 July, 1959 PRACTICE OF THE HOLY SEE names into English for .lay religious. An indecipherable signa-ture can usually be. determined by cgnsulting the Annuario Pontificio. It would help if the signature were fully typed out on the original document below the written signature. 17. The general council. (a) Superior alone governs. Many constitutions, old and new, contain an article of the following tenor: "The congregation shall be governed by a superior general and four councilors." This is an error. The superior alone governs an institute, a province, or a house. The councilors are not associates in authority but advisers. Therefore, such an article should be more accurately phrased, as in the following recently approved constitutions: "Although the superior general must ask the opinion of the general council in matters of greater importance and must sometimes secure its consent, nevertheless, she issues all ordinances in her own name because she alone possesses the right to govern the congregation." (b) List of what a superior may do without the advice or consent of his council. Several constitutions, even some recently approved, contain such a list. This seems to me to be entirely superfluous. It is immediately evident that a superior has the right to govern completely unassisted except for the matters reserved by canon law or the constitutions to higher authorities or that from the same sources demand the con-sent or advice of his council. 18. The secretary general. Many constitutions keep repeat-ing, especially of the secretary, secondlyof the bursar, and lastly of the novice master, that he has no right to vote in a general or provincial council unless he is also a councilor. Isn't this evident? Are we vdry likely to affirm that anyone has the rights of an office that he does not possess? 19. The bursar general. Even recent constitutions continue to speak of a safe locked by three different keys in general-ates, provincialates, and local houses. One of those keys is to be kept by the superior, the second by the assistant, the third by the bursar. All three must therefore be present to open the 221 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious safe. How efficient is such a safe? How possible is it even buy such a safe? Religious institutes continue also to put determined sums in their constitutions, for example, the amount in extra-ordinary expenses for which recourse is necessary to the superior general. The changing of such an amount is a change of the constitutions and will demand the permission of the Holy See for a pontifical institute and that of all the ordinaries in whose dioceses the.institute has houses in the case of' a diocesan con-gregation. It would be sufficient and more practical to say, "according to the norms established by the general chapter." Such amdhnts may then be changed by any subsequent chap-ter. A recent set of constitutions enacts: "In the houses en-trusted with parish schools or other establishments which are responsible to ecclesiastical or lay administrations and where the sisters receive a fixed salary, the funds shall be .kept and admin-istered as indicated in article . ., except that any surplus shall be paid annually into the provincial fund." This matter was explained in the REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 14-1955-329. The article on alienation no longer contains the 30,000 t~rancs or lire, or $6,000, of canon 534, § 1 but is phrased, "of a value that exceeds the sum established by the Holy See." 20. Local houses and superiors. A recent set of constitu-tions states: "Though the sisters ought to be desirous of embrac-ing all human misery and of drawing the whole world to the service of God, nevertheless, the congregation shall not establish new houses if, in those already existing, there is not a sufficient number of sisters to insure that not only the works of mercy can be carried out adequately but also that religious observance can flourish." The last clause might well have been amended to: that religious observance and a normal human life can flourish. This very practical matter was commented on in the REVIEW FOR RE~LIGIOUS, 17-1958-121-22. Canon 516, § 1 demands that councilors be had in every formal house and favors or recommends councilors also in smaller houses, In several replies to quinquennial reports, the Sacred Congregation insisted on 222 July, 1959 PRACTICE OF THE HOLY SEE the appointment of local councilors and that local council meet-ings be held with the frequency commanded by the constitu-tions. Insistence was also placed on the law that a local superior should not be the local bursar except in a case of necessity (c. 516~ § 3). A recent set of constitutions makes the prac-tical and necessary observation that everything said about local superiors applies also to the local superior of the 'mother house. The presence of a higher superior does not diminish the author-ity nor lessen the duties of this local superior. One order of nuns and two congregations of sisters have indults that dispense them from the law of canon '1306,§ 2, that is, that purificators, palls, and corporals used in the sacrifice of the Mass must be first washed by a cleric in major orders.3~ 21. The constitutions. The only thing noteworthy under this chapter in the present practice of the Holy See is a fre-quent addition to the norm on the obligation of the constitu-tions. It has always been evident that a divine or ecclesiastical law repeated in the constitutions retains the obligation it has in itself, that is, it obliges under sin according to the matter. The same obligation is equally evident of any action that falls under the vows. It has been the universal practice to declare that the other articles of the constitutions did not immediately oblige under sin but under the penalty imposed for their infraction. It was also universally stated that sin was committed in the violation of such articles by a sinful motive or by a violation that caused scandal. The following qualification is now fre-quently appended to the norm for these other articles: "The articles concerning government and the fundamental norms that determine the necessary functions or the duties and offices by which government is exercised, as also the articles that enact and consecrate the nature, spirit, and special purpose of the congr.egation oblige immediately in conscience according to the matter." This qualification is evidently taken verbatim from Ibid., 15-1956-101. 223 JOSEPH F. (~ALLEN Muzzarelli, Acta et Documenta Congressus Generalis de Statibus Perfectionis, I, 540. It does not seem to me to be too clear nor too precise. It "should be added here that a considerable number of both pontifical and diocesan congregations have made a general revision of their constitutions in recent years. 224 A Lit:e Table t:or. Religious Priest:s 1953-1957 Francis C. Madigan, S.J. THE JANUARY 1955 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS carried an article by Sister Josephina, c.s.J., on the average age at death of sisters in two communities of religious women, presumably of her own congregatmn1 . In view of the interest of religious, and particularly of religious superiors, in Sister Josephina's stat", s"tLcs, the writer believes that readers of the REVIEW will be equally interested in a life table setting forth the mortality experience of a large community of religious priests2 whose headquarters are located in New York City and whose principal field of operations embraces New York State ¯ and northeastern New Jersey.3 Some comments on life tables and their use are in order. First of all, they are based not on death records only, but on the proportion of deceased members to living members, for each age gr6up and calendar year studied. The present table gives average figures t:or the calendar years 1953-1957. Secondly, life tables are an accurate barometer of health conditions prevailing in the particular group to which they relate. They permit direct and unbiased comparisons of the mortality of this group with that of other groups through the mortality rates and expectations of life developed in the tables. Superiors of similar groups of priests should find these mortality rates and expectations of life helpful in coming to decisions about the number of men that must be prepared to keep certain lines of work adequately staffed. The table will also prove useful in determining whether health conditions in 1Sister Josephina, C.S.J., "Longevity of Religious Women," Review [or Religious, XIV, I (January, 1955), 29-30. 2Priest was defined for the purpose of the study to mean. both ordained priests, and religious seminarians ("scholastics") studying for the priesthood. 3There were 1247 priests in this community on June 30, 1955, which was the midpoint of the study. The main work engaged in by the members is education. 225 FRANCIS C. MADIGAN Review for Religious their community are satisfactory both in general and in regard to any particular age group. Some time ago through the use of such a table the superiors of a certain religious community found that the number of deaths yearly experienced in their scholasticate was entirely out of line with expectations, and upon investigation they found that certain health measures relating to diet and housing were being overlooked. Correction of the situation resulted in an immediate lowering of the death rates for the affected age groups. The table may also be of assistance to superiors, in another way. Of late a number of communities have been consider-ing or have actually bought group insurance for their members. The mortality rates and expectations of life in the table should prove helpful both to these communities and to insurance companies in determining what is a fair premium. The use of the table is simple. In the leftmost colunm one finds the age in which he is interested. Following this age across .its row, he comes first to the mortality rates. These are given for both five-year and one-year periods, and for the five-year periods, in terms of both observed and graduated rates. The observed rates are placed next to the age beginning the precise period to which they refer, as are the one-year graduated rates. The graduated five-year rates are placed in parentheses two lines below the observed rates and refer to precisely the same period of time as the observed rates. These mortality rates are probabilities of dying during the period 'specified for those priests who were alive on the birthday mark-ing the beginning of the period. In using the table to compare the probabilities of dying at any particular ages, it is better to use the graduated rather than the observed rates. This is because the latter rates con-tain fluctuations from age to age due to chance variation, whereas the former represent, as closely as can be determined by study, the general law of mortality, which seems to underlie the observed fluctuations of a particular set of rates. A priori we would expect mortality to follow a smoothly rising curve 226 July, 1959 A LIFE TABLE with the advance of age, and graduation is based on this expectation, while at the same time it attempts to keep very close to the original rates observed at each age. For example, if the age-specific mortality rates observed during the period 1953-1957 should continue in effect, we would expect an average oi~ 5.5 priests to die (on the basis of the graduated rates) before their fortieth birthday, out ot~ every thousand priests alive on their thirty-fifth birthday. However, in the general public we would expect thirteen out of every thousand to die during the same period.4 During the one-year period from their thirty-fifth to their thirty-sixth birthday, we would expect only one priest to die out of every thousand. The reference, of course, is only to priests of the community studied. How might a superior compare the experience of his own community with that of the priests described? He could do this by relating the number of deaths at any particular age in a calendar year to the number of persons in his community who had been of that precise age on their last birthday. Divid-ing the i~ormer by the latter would give the one-year probability of dying. Similarly, he could find the five-year probabilities of dying by relating members who had died within a specific five-year age bracket in the calendar year to the number of members of his community who were between these ages at the start ot~ the year. Rough approximations could be used if only ~ general picture of the mortality rates of the community is ~lesired, while more careful methods might be employed to nvestigate the records of age-groups which seem to have un- _~sually high mortality. Of course, unusually high mortality rates for a particular ~-ge-group may represent simply fluctuations due to chance. ~,ccordingly, it is well to combine the results of the observation ,f several calendar years, as these average rates will show fewer --xtremes due to mere sampling variation. It would not be 4The comparison is not perfect since the rates of the general public are "or 1954, rather than 1955 which is the mid-year of the period studied for ¯ riests. However, it is close enough to make differences inconsequential. 227 FRANCIS C. 1V[ADIGAN Review for Religious wise, however, to average more than ten years' experience be-cause of the change in medical techniques that takes place over that length of time. These affect the death rates. The column next after the white male mortality rates fifth column) shows the number of priests who survive to each quinquennial birthday out of 100,000 priests alive on, their fifteenth birthday. By mentally shifting the decimal point, can be converted into the number left alive out of 100. (Multi-plying by the proper multiple would give the number left out of 200, 300, 400, and similar numbers.) This column might prove helpt~ul to superiors in endeavoring to forecast size of a certain age group some years from the present. For example, one might get some idea from it of the number priests ordained today who would be expected to be still alive in twenty or thirty years, if we assume that these priests roughly of the same age. The following column (sixth), which gives the number of priests dying in each successive five-interval out of the original group of 100,000, might also prove helpful in this connection. The seventh column will probably not be particularly use-ful to superiors or other interested religious. It is included because of its relation to the following column. This seventh column presents the remaining total number of years of to be lived by the surviving members of the original 100,000 priests up to the time when the last survivor dies. The last column presents probably the most useful set figures in the table. These expectations of life are found dividing the total number of years to be lived (column by the number of persons surviving to start the period (column 5) at any particular age. The first expectation, at age 15, sums up the entire mortality and longevity experience of whole cohort of 100,000 priests, and is directly comparable t.h~ experience of other groups of persons at age 15. Expecta-tions of life at succeeding years sum up the entire experience t~rom that age onward to the death of the last member. 228 July, 1959 A LIF~- TABLE The expectation of life is the average remaining number of years to be lived by priests surviving to some particular specified age. For example, priests studied in this table had at 30 years of age an average remaining lifetime of 38.5 years while white males of the general public had only 36.4 years of life remaining. Care must be observed, however, in drawing conclusions from column eight. Because one has noted that the average lifetime of priests is greater than that of white males of the general population, he should not conclude that the oldest ages reached b)~ individual priests necessarily exceed those of the most long-lived members of the general population. As a matter of fact, the opposite is true because of the greater numbers in the general population and the greater resultant probability of extreme cases. The difference in average length of life is pri.ncipally due to the fact that a larger number of the general population die before reaching old age. For this reason one will notice that the expectations of life at ages above 60 do not differ as much as do the expectations at the younger years. A second caveat refers to the fact that the mortality rates and the expectations of life refer to statistical averages. We cannot be sure of any particular person or persons that their lives will be as long or short as the mathematical averages. For example, the expectation of life of priests aged 30 is 43.5 additional years of life. However, any particular priest might be killed tomorrow in an automobile accident, or on the other hand he might live considerably beyond the average expecta-tion of life. The same is true of any small group of priests, where sampling variations due to health or accident might be very large. In addition, one should bear in mind that as time goes on, health conditions continually improve. At least this has been the experience of the past hundred years. Thus one would expect that in 1958 a priest's expectation of life would be slightly better for any particular age than it was between 1953 and 1957, and that his chances of dying during any one-year or five-year interval would be correspondingly less. 229 FRANCIS C. ~V[ADIGAN Review for Religious Table 1. Life Table of Large Community of Religious Priests with Headquarters in Northeastern United States, for the Period 1953-1957, with Mortality Rates For Five-Year and One-Year Periods and Expectation of Life by Single Years of Age, Compared for Five-Year Age Groups with United States White Males, 1954. Priest Priests Total Survivors Dying Years Expectation MortaLity Beginning During Lived by of Rates Each Each Priesr~ Life Age 5-Year 1-Year 5-Year Five-Year Five-Year at Ages ¯ Priests U~S. Interval Observed~ Graduated U.S. Male Interval, Interval and Above Male 15-16 .00000 .00068a .00610b 100,000 0 5,797,816 57.98 55.0 16-17 .00068 56.98 17-18 (.00339)c .00068 55.98 18-19 .00068 54.98 19-20 .00068 53.98 20-21 .00549 .00068 .00890 I00,000 549 5,297,816 52.98 50.3 21-22 .00069 52.04 22-23 (.00349) .00070 51.09 23-24 .00070 50.15 24-25 .00071 49~20 25-26 .00578 .00073 .00800 99,451 575 4,799,069 48.26 45.7 26-27 .00074 47.31 27-28 (.00379) .00076 46.36 28-29 .00077 45.42 29-30 .00079 44.47 30-31 .00000 .00082 .00900 98,876 0 4,303,365 43.52 41.1 31-32 .00085 42.52 32-33 (.00439) .00088 41.52 33-34 .00091 40.52 34-35 .00094 39.52 35-36 .00628 .00099 .01300 98,876 621 3,808,975 38.52 36.4 36-37 .00106 37.57 37-38 (.00549) .00111 36:61 38-39 .00115 35.66 39-40 .OOll8 34.70 40-41 .00683 .00125 .02080 98,255 671 3,316,009 33.75 31.8 41-42 .00136 32.79 42-43 (.00757) .00149 31.83 43-44 .00166 30.88 44-45 .00186 29.92 45-46 .03874 .00214a .03530b 97,584 3,780 2,825,753 28.96 27.5 46-47 .00248 28.17 47-48 (.01490)e .00290 27.38 48-49 .00342 26.60 49-50 .00404 25.81 50-51 .03177 .00484 .05600 93,804 2,980 2,346,801 25.02 23.4 51-52 .00566 24.17 52-53 (.03333) .00661 23.32 53-54 .00773 22.46 54-55 .00899 21.61 July, 1959 A LIFE TABLE Mortality Age ~-Year l-Year 5-Year Interval O~serveds Graduated U.,S Male 55-56 .02900 .01058 .08380 56-57 .01231 57-58 .06765) .01374 58-59 .01545 59-60 .01727 60-61 61-62 62-63 63-64 64-65 65-66 66-67 67-68 68-69 69-70 70-71 71-72 72-73 73-74 74-75 Priest Priests Total Survivors Dying Years Beginning During Lived by Each Each ~ Priests Five-Year Five-Year at Ages x Interval Interval and Above 90,824 2,634 1,885,471 .09036 .01960 .02205 ¯ 11805) .02450 .02750 .03051 .12700 88,190 7,969 1,436,896 .28666 .03586 .03795 .19084) .04125 .04452 .04795 .13382 .05225 .05650 .273.10) .06150 .06685 .07150 ¯ 18570 80,221 22,996 1,011,626 ¯ 24920 57,225 7,658 668,076 75-76 76-77 77-78 78-79 79-80 80-81 81-82 82-83 83-84 84-85 Expectation of Life Priests U.S. Male 20.76 19.6 19.87 18.97 18.08 17.18 16.29 16.2 15.54 14.82 14.08 13.35 12.61 13.1 12.42 12.23 12.05 11.86 11.67 10.5 10.95 10.24 9.52 8.81 .45904 .07650 .35440 49,567 22,753 401,147 8.09 8.2 .08200 8.04 .35495) .08500 7.98 .08750 7.93 .08870 7.87 .36387 .09051d .48470 26,814 9,757 209,757 7.82 6.3 .O9149 7.46 .38689)e .09311 7.12 .09452 6.76 .09642 6.41 85-86 .39950 .10116 17,057 6,814 103,400 6.06 5.1 86-87 .10653 87-88 (.45904) .11340 88-89 .12299 89-90 .13367 90 and 1.00000e Above 1.0000e 10,243e 10,243e a The life table is based on the observed rates. These rates are for five-year periods. b The mortality rates for U. S. males, 1954, are for five-year periods. In the source they are given only to four places. A zero was added to each to assist the eye in comparisons. e The rates given in parentheses are five-year, graduated rates for priests. They are for the iame five-year period as the observed rate immediately above them. d The one-year graduated rates give the probabilities of dying during the next year, for persons of this exact age. ¯ o This final interval is not one if five years, but continues till the death of the last survivor. Source for the life table values of United States white males, 1954: National Office of Vital Statistics, "Abridged Life Tables. United States, 1954," Vital Sta-tistics- Special Reports, National Summaries, 44, 2 (May 15, 1956), 38. 231 Survey Roman Documents R. F. Smith, S.J. IN THE FOLLOWING survey those documents will be summarized which appeared in Acta Apostolicae Sedis through February and March, 1959. All page references throughout the survey will be to the 1959 ~AS (v. 51). Synod and Council On the Feast of the Conversion of St. Paul, January 25, 1959, His Holiness John XXIII, together with the cardinals present in Rome, participated in the closing of the Church Unity Octave at the Basilica of St. Paul Outside the Walls. After the ceremonies the Vicar of Christ delivered a private but solemn allocution (AAS, pp. 65-69) to the assembled cardinals. After telling them of his awareness of his duties both as Bishop of Rome and as Pastor of the universal Church, the Pontiff remarked that the diocese of Rome needs an increase of energy as well as a coordination of individual and collective efforts, if a more abundant harvest of souls is to be gathered. Moreover, he continued, the entire world has its needs; for though the grace of Christ continues to achieve its victories, still there are many who refuse to believe in Christ, immerse themselves in exclusively eartldy pursuits, and under the inspiration of the Prince of Darkness wage active opposition against what is true and good. To meet these needs, the Pope. said, there must be revived certain ancient forms of doctrinal affirmation and ecclesi-astical discipline which have in the past proved their ability to clarify thought, to increase religfous unity, and to reanimate Christian fervor. "Venerable Brothers and beloved Sons! Trembling a little from emotion but nevertheless with a humble resoluteness of purpose, We announce in your presence the name and proposal of a double celebration: that of a diocesan synod for the City and that of an ecumenical Council for the universal Church." After mentioning briefly that among other results of these two endeavors, there would be effected the hoped for revision of canon law, the Pontiff concluded his allocution by recommending his two proposals to the care of the Blessed Virgin and the saints of heaven. Previously on the same day and during the Solemn Mass that closed the Unity Octave, HIS Holiness had delivered a homily (AAS, pp. 70-74) in which he emphasized that the Church's linking of St. Paul with St. Peter should be a symbol of the unity of the bishops, 232 I~OMAN DOCUMENTS successors of the apostles, and of the faithful with the successor of St. Peter. It is from this unity, he concluded, that there will flow to the world the liberty and peace it desires. Closing of the Lourdes Centenary On February 15, 1959 (AAS, pp. 135-39), the Holy Father delivered an allocution in the Basilica of St. Mary Major to mark the end of the Lourdes centenary for the city of Rome. After reminding the Romans that the adoration of Christ is always the center of every form of devotion to Mary, HIS Holiness once more recalled to his listeners the permanent message of Lourdes: confident prayer of petition, exercise of penance, and solid piety manifested in the form of pilgrimages. These pilgrimages, he continued, whether to Lourdes or to the thousands of other shrines of our Lady, are not to be regarded as pleasure trips nor as the satisfying of some vague religious feeling; rather they should recall the eternal truths of life and- purify the soul so as to better fit it to appreciate the eucharistic banquet. In our prayer of petition, he went on, we need not fear to ask for temporal gifts; but our requests should not begin or end with these, for the goals of our life and the means thereto far exceed such things. Finally, he pointed out, because of the threefold concupiscence to be found in man, human beings need disci-pline and penance; accordingly there can be no Christian without the exercise of penance. The Holy Father concluded the entire allocution by lamenting the moral disorders that are multiplying at the present time and urged the faithful to petition heaven that good sense may return, that the faith may revive, and that perseverance never grow slack. Three days later on February 18, 1959 (AAS, pp. 144-48), the Pontiff sent a radio message to Lourdes and to the entire world for the conclusion of the centenary year, considering in it the message to be found in the life of St. Bernadette. Bernadette, he said, once more proves the statement of St. Paul (1 Cor 1:27-28) that. God chooses the weak things of this world to ~onfound the strong. Our generation, tie continued, has made admirable scientific progress, and humanity has been seized with a sense of pride at the possibilities now opening to the power of man. But, he added, St. Bernadette recalls to us our need for humility and prayer and reminds us that from Lourdes there comes a call to penance and to charity, a call to detach ourselves from riches and to teach us to share with those poorer than ourselves. Later during the same day (AAS, pp. 140-43) the Pope delivered an allocution to a group of Frenchmen in the Church of St. Louis, King of France. He recalled the long and noble history of Catholicism in France, noting that that history had culminated in the appearances of 233 R. F. SMITH Review for Religious Mary at Lourdes. Having remarked that in the plans of Divine Provi-dence each nation has its own special mission, he went on to describe the mission of France in the phrase: The country of France is the country of Mary. He concluded by reminding his listeners that the last previous Pope who bore the name of John was a Frenchman. Further Documents and Speeches Under the date of February 6, 1959 (AAS, pp. 129-35), John XXIII sent an epistle to the archbishops, bishops, and other local ordinaries of Italy in commemoration of the twentieth anniversary of the death of Pius XI and thirtieth anniversary of the Lateran Pact. In the epistle John XXIII recalled that in the last months of his life Plus XI had planned a plenary meeting of all the bishops of Italy and had in fact begun the composition of the talk he intended to give at the meeting. Sickness and death prevented the completion of the speech, but the unfinished manuscript furnishes us with sufficient knowledge of the last thoughts.of Pius XI. The first subject Pius XI had chosen to consider was that of the care that bishops should have for their seminaries. He reminded them of the need to watch over their seminaries vigilantly even in little matters; he particularly stressed the necessity of sustaining the rectors of seminaries in their severity in admitting candidates and in later promotions to orders. The next p.oint in the projected speech was a warning to the bishops that they should not be surprised if their words were often twisted and misinterpreted. (It should be remembered that Pius XI was writing when Fascism was at its height in Italy.) At this point in the manuscript, John XXIII noted, the writing becomes shaky and confused. But there was still enough strength in the dying pontiff to write a paragraph on the tenth anniversary of'the Lateran Pact. The paragraph is a moving and eloquent one, the dying Pope addressing the relics of the Princes of the Apostles, calling on them to exult because God has returned to Italy and Italy to God, imploring them to prophesy the perseverance of Italy in the faith, and ending with a desperate plea for peace for the entire world. These, remarked John XXIII in conclusion, were the last recorded thoughts of a great Pope. On January 18, 1959 (AAS, pp. 74-79), John XXIII delivered an allocution at the Gregorian University to the assembled professors and students, emphasizing how the very name of the institution recalls the glorious memory of Pope Gregory XIII, who during his pontificate from 1572 to 1585 effected the full restoration of Christian discipline in the Church. 234 July, 1959 ROMAN DOCUMENTS On January 30, 1959 (AAS, pp. 80-81), the Pope addressed members of the Christian Union of Business Executives and Managers. I-Ie regretfully reminded his audience that th~ ~rror still persists that industrial production inevitably involves the conflict of divergent interests. Actually, he said, executives, managers, and workers are not irreconcilable antagonists; rather they are cooperators in a common work which requires mutual comprehension and a sincere effort to overcome the temptation to seek only one's own profit. Under the date of January 17, 1959 (AAS, pp. 149-51), the Vicar of Christ sent a written message to the school children of the United States. His message, the Holy Father wrote, was one of love: God's love for all mankind and man's duty to love God in return and his neighbor for His sake. He urged the children to show their love for children less fortunate than themselves by praying for them and by giving them all possible material aid. Miscellaneous Matters In the issues of AAS under consideration there¯ are several docu-ments which concern Catholics of the Byzantine rite. By the apostolic constitution Singularern huius, dated May 10, 1958 (AAS, pp. 97-98), an exarchate was erected in Australia for Ruthenians of the Byzantine rite; Sydney was designated as the see of the exarchate. A later decree of the Sacred Congregation of the Oriental Church, dated December 12, 1958 (AAS, pp. 107-108), extended the jurisdiction of the exarchate to Ruthenians living in New Zealand and Oceania. A second decree of the same congregation and under the same date (AAS, p. 108) changed the see of the exarchate from Sydney to Melbourne. Byzantine Rite Catholics of Ukrainian origin living in the United States were the object of the apostolic constitution Apostolicam hanc, issued July 10, 1958 (AAS, pp. 156-57). The constitution raised the exarchate of ~Philadelphia to metropolitan status, while the exarchate of Stamford (Connecticut) was made an eparchate. The two together now form a new ecclesiastical province. AAS, pp. 112-13 and pp. 163-64, gives the original texts of two prayers composed by John XXIII for the Church of silence and in honor of the Eucharistic Christ. An English translation of the prayers is given elsewhere in this issue. The last document to be considered is a decree of the Sacred Congregation of Rites issued on August 11, 1958 (AAS, pp. 160-62). The decree approves the introduction of the cause of the Servant of God Clara Fey (1815-1894), foundress of the Sisters of the Poor Child Jesus. 235 Views, News, Previews FROM JULY 31 to August 7, 1960, there will be held the thirty-seventh World Eucharistic Congress, in Munich, Germany. The first four days of the Congress (Sunday, July 31, to Wednesday, August 3) will consist chiefly in conventions of Catholic organizations and g.roups, while the last four days (Thursday, August: 4, to Sunday, August 7) will emphasize liturgical and devotional services centered around the Mass and the Blessed Sac~:ament. Catholic associations who intend to hold meetings during 1960 are requested to hold the meetings in Munich during the days of the Eucharistic Congress. Inquiries about the Eucharistic Congress should be directed to the following address: Generalsekretariat des Eucharistischen Weltkongresses, Maxburgo strasse, 2, Munich, Germany. A community of sisters in New Hampshire has asked that the following communication be printed in the pages of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. "Perhaps some of the religious superiors of sisters in the eastern states would appreciate knowing of an ideal rest and nursing home for sisters desiring complete rest and an opportunity of regaining lost health. As far as we know, it is unique, in that regular medical attendance forms one of the necessary advantages of this quiet and well organized rest home . This home is well furnished and comfort-able, but not luxurious -- so that sisters would quite naturally feel right at home. Rates and information will be furnished on request from Reverend Mother Superior, St. Margaret's Convent, Rest-a-While Building, Gabriels, New York." The twentieth annual North American Liturgical Week will be held under the patronage of Most Reverend Leo A. Pursley, Bishop of Fort Wayne, at Notre Dame University, from Sunday afternoon, August 24, to Wednesday evening, August 27. The theme of the Week will be "Active Lay Participation in the Liturgy according to the Instruction of September 3, 1958." A guest of distinction, who has announced his attendance at the Week, will be James Cardinal Lercaro, Archbishop of Bologna. Room accommodations during the Week will be provided at nominal charge. F.or information regarding such accom-modations write to: Father William Leonard, S.J., Boston College, Boston 67, Massachusetts. It is a pleasure to announce a new magazine which will be of interest to religious. The title of the magazine is Lasallian Digest, a quarterly which began publication in Fall, 1958. The quarterly not only provides informative articles concerning the history, spirituality, 236 VIEWS~ NEWS, PREVIEWS and educational philosophy of the Brothers of the Christian Schools; but it also includes general articles that will be of value to all religious" engaged in educational work. The address of the magazine is: Lasallian Digest, Mont La Salle, Napa, California. The second World Sodality Congress will be held from August 20 to August 23, 1959, at Seton Hall University, South Orange, New Jersey. All sodalists, directors, and moderators, whether members of federations that are affiliated to the World Federation of Sodalities or not, are invited to send representatives to the Congress. Youth sodalities are requested to send only members who are at least sixteen years of age. The theme of the Congress will be "The Vocation of Sodalists of Our Lady in the Crisis of the World Today." Further information concerning the Congress can be obtained by Writing: World Congress of Sodalities of Our Lady, 101 Plane Street, Newark 2, New Jersey. A special leaflet missal containing the Mass of St. Joseph the Workman and designed especially for use at Labor Day Masses is being published by the Catholic Council on Working Life (21 West Superior Street, Chicago 10, Illinois). The missal will be set in large, easy-to-read type with special drawings of men and women at work in a variety of occupations and professions. The leaflet will be ready for shipment on August 1, 1959. Single copies of the leaflet will cost fifteen cents; reduced prices on quantity orders may be obtained by writing the Council at the address given above. The Little Brothers of Jesus hope to begin a new quarterly to be called ~lesus Caritas; the title was a favorite phrase and emblem of P~re de Foucauld whose spirituality the Brothers continue and prolong. A French magazine of the same title has been in existence for some time and in the fall of 1958 a trial issue of an independent but similar English magazine under the same title was issued. The theme of the first issue was "The Gift of Friendship." The new magazine promises to enrich English spiritual reading, since it will mediate the spirituality of the famed Pbre de Foucauld. Persons interested in the magazine should contact: Brother Roger, 24 Autumn Grove, Leeds 6, England. Marquette University, 1131 West Wisconsin Avenue, Milwaukee 3, Wisconsin, announces an Everett Curriculum Workshop which will grant three semester hours of graduate credit in education. The Work-shop, under the direction of Sister Elizabeth Ann, I.H.M., of Immaculate Heart College, Los Angeles, will explore the application of the Everett Report on Sister Formation to the needs of communities of sisters. 237 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Review for Religious It has been designed specifically for directresses of study and for the administration and faculty of juniorates and scholasticates (college level) of sisterhoods. The Workshop has been scheduled for the mornings and afternoons of August 6 to August' 26, 1959. It is open only to sisters; the fee is $36. Inquiries concerning the Workshop should be directed to Dean John O. Riedl of the Graduate School of the University. ( ues!: ons and Answers [The following answers are given by Father Joseph F. Gallen, S.J., professor of canon law at Woodstock College, Woodstock, Maryland.] --20-- The constitutions of our pontifical congregation, approved recently, state three times that a religious who is legitimately dismissed is by that fact freed of all her religious vows. This statement is found after the articles on the dismissal of a professed of temporary vows, those on the dismissal of a professed of perpetual vows, and finally after the article on the automatic dismissal of canon 646. I thought that repetition was to be avoided in constitutions. Wouldn't it be much simpler and less confusing to state once that a sister professed of perpetual or temporary vows who has been legitimately dis-missed is by that very fact freed of all her religious vows? The Code of Canon Law itself, in virtue of canon 648, frees a professed of temporary vows, as soon as the dismissal is effective, from all the vows of his religions profession. The code itself (c. 669, § 1) does not free a religious of perpetual vows from the vows of religious pro-fession by the very fact of his dismissal. Such a liberation may be effected by a provision of the particular constitutions, and constitutions approved in more recent years usually contain this provision. (REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, September, 1957, 275, 282, 288) The evident reason therefore for the threefold statement is that the Sacred Congregation is opposed to the admixture of canonical with non-canonical matter in the one sentence. However, excessive repetition is to be avoided in the constitutions, and the present repetition is especially unfortunate because it occurs within the same chapter of the constitutions. In one official document, the Statutes for Extern Sisters of Monasteries of Nuns, n. 121, the Sacred Congregation of Religious itself stated this effect in the one article: "A sister legitimately dismissed according to the norm of the preceding articles is by that very fact freed of all her religious vows, whether temporary or perpetual." The Sacred Congregation of the Propagation of the Faith follows exactly the same principle in its typical constitutions for diocesan missionary congregations, n. 128. 238 July, 1959 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 21 Our pontifical constitutions state: "The written declaration of the profession, whether temporary or perpetual, signed by the professed sister, by the mother general or her delegate, in whose presence the profession was made, and by two other sisters as witnesses, must be preserved in the archives of the congregation." (Cf. c. 576, § 2.) What is the meaning of the phrase "in whose presence the profession was made"? If it means the one who received the profession, why doesn't it simply state this? The wording of your article in this respect is that of the canon. It does mean the one who received the profession, and it would have been much better if the canon had simply stated this. This meaning is clear from the nature of the act of profession, since canon law itself demands the presence only of the one professing and the one receiving the profession. Furthermore, the rest of the canon, evidently referring to the same person, speaks explicitly of the superior who receives the profession. The unwillingness to repeat a word, phrase, or clause in the same context is a frequent cause of ambiguity in canon law. We do not change the wording of the canons, even when one finds an evidently better and more accurate wording. The Sacred Congregation of Religious itself changed the wording in the Statutes for Extern Sisters of Monas-teries of Nuns, n. 48, to "who received the profession or renovation." --221 You advocate fewer trifling permissions. So do I. What about monthly permissions? We first assemble for this purpose. Each sister then kneels individually before the superior and says, "Please, may I ask my permissions?" Isn't it sufficient to ask permissions? Why must I ask to ask them? She then asks the permissions. "Please, may I rise, dress, wash, say my prayers, perform my community exercises, go to different parts of the house, do my charge, prepare my work, use books, borrow and lend, give away and keep small articles, and bathe when necessary? Please, may I have these permissions?" Don't I already have at least implicit permission for things I am directed or commanded to do, e. g., to rise, perform community exercises, do my charge, and to read at least the books neces-sary for my work? How can I go to the chapel without washing and dressing? If I have permission to wash, doesn't that include all of me? Why do I need pe~-mission to bathe? This ritual consumes from ten to forty minutes. Is it necessary or profit-able, especially when we cannot keep up with our duties? We are told that it is an occasion for increasing merit, but it seems 239 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Review for Religious to me to be a very dumb one. Aren't there sensible ways arriving at perfection? This thing of becoming a fool for the sake of Christ can he taken too literally. Impatience has sharpened the style of the questioner and, I hope, has exaggerated the content of her question; but this is not a sufficient reason for de.nying her a hearing. A monthly renewal of such things as dispensations from any of the duties of common life is reasonable. It would also be reasonable to have a less frequent renewal. I have never been able to see the profit of the formalistic monthly permissions, of which the present case is a sufficiently good example. As the questioner says, she already has at least implicit permission for many of the things she is requesting in these monthly permissions. Such monthly per-missions are, in my judgment, an unnecessary, unprofitable, and formalistic detail. A woman's ability to handle details is a valuable talent, but in the religions life she often perverts it and grinds the spiritual life into a smothering dust of details. I believe it is a sound spiritual maxim that artificiality in spiritual matters is an infallible sign of error. Why should we need artificiality to follow perfectly the most reasonable and most highly integrated person who has. ever existed, Jesus Christ? It is not possible nor does obedience demand that we have the expressed will of a superior for every action. If the motive of our action is the vow of obedience (and it is presumed to be such), any action in conformity with the Rule, the constitutions, cnstoms, usages, and the tacit or presumed will of the superior has the merit of the vow. "In many cases, especially of sisters, one finds a manner of governing, a way of conceiving discipline and obedience that reduces the life and religious observance to an arid and oppressive formalism, a negation and death of the religious life itself and of zeal." Rev. J. Alberione, S.S.P., Acta et Docurnenta Congressus Generalis de Statibus Perfectio~nis, I, 270. 23 When is a vote uncertain and consequently invalid (c. 169, § 1,2°)? A vote is certain when the person voted for can be known without any fear of error from the vote itself. A vote for Brother Francis is invalid if there are two or more religious of that name. It cannot be argued that the elector intended to vote for the elder Brother Francis, who will very likely, be elected, rather than for the younger Brother Francis, for whom it is very improbable that anyone would vote. The vote itself must be certain. The family name or other identification must be included when .there is more than one religions of the same name. It is the almost universal custom always to append the family to the religions name. The vote is also uncertain when the writing cannot be deciphered or the sense understood. 240 July, 1959 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Our monastery of nuns recently resumed solemn vows. Was I, the superioress, obliged to inform the pastor of the parish of baptism of each of these nuns that she had made profession of solemn vows? Yes. Canon 576, § 2, prescribes: " . . . . and moreover, in the case of solemn profession, the superior who received the profession shall inform the pastor of the place of baptism of the solemn profession, in con-fortuity with the norm of canon 470, § 2~" The latter canon reads: "In the register of baptisms there shall'be noted also the record of the baptized person's confirmation, marriage (unless it was a marriage of conscience, as stated in canon 1107), reception of subdiaconate, or ~olemn profession; and these facts are always to be included in baptismal certificates." Canon 576, § 2, should be and usually is included in the constitutions of nuns. The evident reason for the obligation is that solemn religious profession is a diriment impediment to marriage. Therefore, the notification of the solemn profession of any religious is to be sent to the pastor of the parish of baptism. According to the canon, this duty falls on the superior who received the solemn pro-fession; but he or she may do it through another. In fact, the notification is the duty of the superioress of the monastery, even if she did not receive the profession; and this is the usual wording of the constitutions. The notification should contain the full secular and religious name, the place and date of the solemn profession, the full names of the father and mother of the religious, and at least the approximate date of the baptism. Complete and accurate data for the notification can be obtained from the baptismal certificate, if this is in the files of the house where solemn profession was made. --25-- Our general motherhouse is in France. Our constitutions underwent a general revision. Is an ~mprlm~t~tr re~iuired in France for the printing of the constitutions in French? Is another imprimatur necessary for the English translation of these constitutions from the French? The answer to both questions is yes. Prudence demands that any translation of the constitutions, also and especially of the original approved text, be submitted to the examination of a priest conversant with the canonical terms on religious. If this is not done, awkwardness, inaccuracy, and errors of translation are very likely. Canon law com-mands previous censorship by a local ordinary for determined works but only if they are published (c. 1384). Publication means that the work is made available to the general public. Therefore, works that are destined solely for the members of a religious institute are not published; 241 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Review for Religious and there is no obhgation of submitting them to the previous censorship of a local ordinary. However, it is the common practice of lay institutes to submit the constitutions to this censorship of the local ordinary. According to this practice, there should be an imprimatur for the constitutions in French and another for the English translation, because canon 1392, § 1, requires another censorshilJ for a translation. The granting of an imprimatur appertains to the proper local ordinary of the author, the ordinary of the place of publication, or the ordinary of the place of printing (c. 1385, § 2). A compiler or translator is included under the term of author. Strictly speaking, the author or legislator of constitutions of lay institutes is the Holy See or the local ordinaries; the official compiler is the general chapter. Constitutions are translated and distributed (published) under the authority and direction of a higher superior. Therefore, the imprimatur for these constitutions may be requested from the ordinary of the place of the general chapter, of the residence of the higher superior, or of the place of printing. In fact it is practically always given by the ordinary of the residence of the higher superior. m26-- Brother X, professed of solemn vows, was a lay brother in our order. He became an apostate from religion. Both his local and immediate higher superior were earnestly striving to persuade him to return to the order. We learned later that he had met a woman, a Catholic and previously unmarried, two weeks after he left his religious house. A week later he got a priest to marry himself and this woman. He concealed the fact of his solemn vows. The constitutions of our order explicitly state that a professed of solemn vows who is legiti-mately dismissed is by that very fact freed of his solemn vows. Was the marriage of Brother X and this woman valid? If Brother X had been a religious cleric in sacred orders (sub-diaconate, diaconate, priesthood) or if a legitimate dismissal, in virtue of the law of the constitutions, did not free him from his solemn vows, his marriage would have been certainly and evidently invalid by reason of the diriment impediment of sacred orders (c. 1072), or solemn religions profession (c. 1073), or both. Therefore, the case of a solemnly professed described above is possible also with regard to a nun or a religious man destined for the priesthood but not yet in sacred orders. The automatic dismissal of canon 646 is a legitimate dismissal, since this canon explicitly states it to be such and it is effected according to law and by law. This dismissal therefore produces the effects of a legitimate dismissal. The code itself (c. 669, § 1) does not free a dismissed religious of perpetual vows, whether solemn or simple, from the vows 242 July, 1959 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS of religious profession by the very fact of the dismissal; but such a liberation, as in the present case, may be effected by the constitutions. We presuppose that the only possible source of invalidity in this case is the solemn religious profession. If, prior to the Catholic celebration of marriage, this religious had publicly apostatized from the Catholic faith, or had run away with a woman, or had attempted marriage outside the Church, he would have been immediately and automatically dismissed in virtue of canon 646. His own constitutions would have freed him in the same instant from all his solemn vows. Since the diriment impediment to marriage is attached to his solemn vow of chastity, which would have ceased to exist, his former solemn profession would in no way have interfered with the validity of a later Catholic celebration of marriage nor would the impediment in question have had to be dispensed. It would simply have ceased to exist. No such previous crime occurred in the present case. Brother X did not even, know the woman until two weeks after he had left the religious house. Canon 646 automatically dismisses any religious who attempts or contracts marriage. It is therefore certain that Brother X was automatically dismissed by canon 646 and freed of his solemn vows, and consequently of the diriment impediment, by the constitutions at the moment that he and the woman gave the marriage consent. There-fore, the precise question is: does a simultaneous freedom from a diriment impediment suffice or is a freedom previous in time necessary for the validity of marriage? I believe that a simultaneous freedom suffices and that the marriage was valid. Canon law does not solve this individual case nor does it explicitly state any general principle on the matter. The case should therefore be decided from analogy (c. 20). There are at least two analo-gous cases in the code, and it can also be maintained that these cases implicitly affirm the general principle of the sufficiency of si~nultaneous freedom. Canon 1126 states that the bond of a former marriage con-tracted in infidelity is dissolved by the Pauline Privilege only when the conv.erted party actually contracts a new and valid marriage. Therefore, in the Pauline Privilege the simultaneous freedom from the diriment impediment of a valid and still existing marriage suffices for the valid contracting of marriage. By the prescription of ecclesiastical law, a marriage is invalid if one of the parties is free and believes the other party to be free when in fact the latter is a slave in the strict sense of this term (c. 1083, § 2, 2°). The common interpretation of this canon is that the marriage is valid if the slave obtains freedom by marriage. Therefore, we again have a case in which simultaneous freedom from an invalidating cause suffices for the validity of marriage. It cannot be objected that this solution offends against the principle that no one should profit by his crime. This principle cannot be main- 243 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Review for Religious tained against an expressed declaration of law. The code itself (c. 648) frees from his vows a religious of temporary vows who commits any of the crimes listed in canon 646, and canon 669, § 1, and positively and explicitly permits the particular constitutions to grant the same freedom to a professed of perpetual vows, whether solemn or simple. --27-- I read the constitutions of a lay congregation that has recently been made pontifical. Their definition of an ordinary and extraordinary general chapter differs from our own, which I enclose. Which of these definitions is correct? In older constitutions, an ordinary general chapter is one convoked regularly at the intervals determined in the constitutions for general elections. This interval is usually every six years, because in the modern practice of the Sacred Congregation of Religious th~ term of office of the superior general is six years. An extraordinary chapter in the same constitutions is one convoked outside of such regular intervals. The first reason for such a chapter is the vacancy of the office of superior general by reason of death, resignation, or deposition. The second is a serious matter affecting the entire institute. The latter is therefore only a chapter of affairs and only for determined matters, such as approval of a revision of the constitutions. This latter chapter in pontifical lay congregations demands a serious reason, the deliberative vote of the general council, and the permission of the Holy See. (Bastien, Directoire Canonique, n. 240, 2; Battandier, Guide Canonique, nn. 341, 346; Schaefer, De Religiosis, n. 452.) In very recent years, the Sacred Cong~'egation has changed this definition in the constitutions of lay congregations that are being made pontifical but not in revisions of constitutions of congregations that were already pontifical. The change consists in the fact that any chapter for the election of a superior general is termed ordinary, any other is extraordinary. The following article typifies this change. "A general chapter is called ordinary whenever it convenes for the election of a superior general, whether a~ the expiration of the ordinary term or when the office becomes vacant for any reason at another time. Any other chapter is said to be extraordinary and may not be convoked without special authorization of the Holy See, upon request by the superior general with the consent of his council." Both definitions are therefore correct, that is, all institutes retain the definition given in their own constitutions. 28- We have a common or public devotional renewal of vows twice a year. The renewal is made before the reception of Holy 244 July, 1959 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Communion. Do we by this renewal gain the indulgence men-tioned in the R~ccolta, n. 756? The Raccolta reads: "The religious of any order or congregation who privately renew their religious vows with at least a contrite heart, after celebrating Holy Mass or receiving Holy Communion, may gain an indulgence of three years." It can be argued that the essential condition is a devotional renewal, not necessarily a private renewal, or that an indulgence granted to a private renewal afortiori applies also to a public renewal. Therefore, the indulgence is gained by a public or private'devotional renewal of religious vows. However, the text clearly demands that the renewal be made after the reception of Holy Com-munion. Therefore, a public or priva, te renewal before Communion does not suffice. On the days of such public devotional renewals, the indul-gence may be gained by again renewing the vows privately after Com-munion. No determined formula is required; and brief formulae, such as "I renew the vows made at my profession," "I renew my vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience," would suffice. The condition that the renewal be made after Holy Communion seems strange, because in two documents, issued before the Code of Canon Law, the Sacred Congregation of Rites had prescribed that professions and public renewals were to be made before Holy Com-munion by religious of congregations who took or renewed their vows during Mass (S. R. C., 3836, 3912). This rite has been retained after the code as a prescription of their own law by at least most of the same religious institutes, and the natural tendency of a religious is to renew his vows privately at the same time during Mass that professions and public devotional renewals are made in his institute. 29 Our constitutions demand an absolute majority for the ejection of the superior general on any of the first three ballots. If such a majority has not been obtained, on the fourth and last ballot only the two religious who had the highest number of votes on the third ballot may be voted for. Of these two, the one who receives the greater number of votes on this fourth ballot is elected. In our last chapter, there was no doubt about the one elected. The constitutions also are clear on the matter; and the president of the chapter gave a brief, simple, and clear exposition of the article. However, on the fourth ballot a vote was cast for a religious who was not one of the two highest on the third ballot. We simply did not know what to do about this vote. This one vote was invalid, because it was in' favor of one who lacked passive voice absolutely, that is, one who simply could not be 245 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Review [or Religious elected. The constitutions clearly restrict eligibility on the fourth ballot to the two who had the highest number of votes on the third ballot. There was also no question whatever of postulation. The constitutions of our congregation demand merely thirty years of age and ten years of profession for a regional superior. Is this correct? Is it sufficient? Any part of an institute that fulfills the canonical requisites for a province is in fact and in law a province, no matter by what name it may be designated in the particular constitutions. The essential canoni-cal requisite for a province is that. of being a distinct moral person, distinct as such from the institute and the houses. A provincial superior is necessarily a canonical higher superior. We presuppose that your regions are not in fact canonical provinces, as is at least practically always the case. The authority of a regional superior may be delegated by a superior general or provincial. If so, he is not a higher superior. The regional superior may possess ordinary authority, that is, authority given by the law of the constitutions. If so, he is a higher superior (c. 488, 8°). In the former case, your constitutions are correct. Canon law does not legislate on the matter~ and the thirty years of age and ten years of profession are prescribed entirely by your own constitutions. If, however, the regional superior is a higher superior, canon 504 must be observed, that is, for the validity of his appointment or election he must be Of legitimate birth, have been professed for at least ten years in the institute computed from his first prQfession (August 15, 1955 -- August 16, 1965), and have completed his thirtieth year (January 1, 1930 -- January 2, 1960). 31 Our pontifical congregation is very large. For many serious reasons, we hesitate to make an immediate division into provinces. We believe it would be more prudent to begin instituting several regions. Do we need the permission of the Holy See to do this? No. Obviously your regions will not be pro~vinces. Therefore, the canonical norms (c. 494) on the erection of provinces do not apply. The establishment, delimitation, change, and suppression of regions may be made by the general chapter or the superior general. Since the matter is so important, the latter ~hould at least consult and preferably have the consent of his council. The latter is practically always de-. manded for these acts when the constitutions make provision for regions. Cf. Larraona, Commentarium Pro Religiosis, 5 (1924), 263-64; Schaefer, De Religiosis, n. 325; Toso, Commentaria Minora, II, 246 July, 1959 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS De Religiosis, 17; Vromant, De Personis, n. 375; Vermeersch-Creusen, Epitome Iuris Canonici, I, n. 603; Coronata, Institutiones Iuris Canonici, I, n. 519. Our constitutions state only that a professed religious who commits any of the crimes listed in canon 646 is by that very fact legitimately dismissed. It seems to me that it would be only sensible for the constitutions to tell us what these crimes are. I think also that canon 646 should be given fully in the consti-tutions. It has not been the general practice to do so in lay institutes, as it has been in clerical institutes. However, some constitutions of the former type of institute do contain the complete canon. Canon 646 was given fully and explained in the REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 16 (1957)~ 283-89. The canon reads: § 1. The following religious are considered as automatically and legitimately dismissed: 1° Public apostates from the Catholic faith; 2° A religious man who ran away with a woman or a religious woman who ran away with a man; 3° Those who attempt or contract marriage, even the so-called civil marriage. § 2. In these cases, it is sufficient that the higher superior with his chapter or council according to the norm of the constitutions make a declaration of fact; but he must take care to preserve the collected proofs of the fact in the files of the house. 247 Reviews [Material for this department should be sent to Book Review Editor, aEVIEW FO~t RELIGIOUS, West Baden College, West Baden Springs, Indiana.} PORTRAIT OF A PARISH PRIEST. By Lancelot C. Sheppard. Westminster: Newman, 1958. Pp. 183. $3.50. One hundred years ago, on August 4, 1859, died St. John Vianney, Curl of Ars. A living inspiration to laymen and religious as well as to the secular clergy, he had become almost a legendary figure in his own lifetime. Today, his name calls to our mind a student so slow that only the shortage of priests and the insistence of an influential friend made it possible for him to be ordained. We think of a preacher who spent hours of agony in composing commonplace sermons, and then would forget them once he got into the pulpit only to speak with such zeal and intensity as to move his hearers to tears. Contrasting images of Ars come before us -- the out-of-the-way village of 1818, where there was a dilapidated old church, sixty houses, four taverns, and "no great love of God"; and the place of pilgrimage of 1859, with a restored church, no tavern, but one school for girls and one for boys, and crowds of the devout and the curious. Portrait of a Parish Priest treats of a man in whose life the extraordinary seems to be the ordinary thing. Living for years on two or three potatoes a day, with but two hours sleep a night, the CurLkept up a strenuous apostolic life. He could size up the most delicate cases of conscience in a moment and even knew the problems of many penitents before they entered the con-fessional. Many a distressed sinner was singled out from the crowd by the saint's voice and called in to penance ahead of a long line. Scoffers eventually prayed. Diseases were often cured. Add to this the almost nightly rappings, voices, and even the burning of the bedclothes, which the Curl was convinced was the work of the devil, the Grappin, and we have a picture of a truly remarkable man. None of these facts ar~ new, and all have been well treated in previous biographies. The unique feature of Portrait of a Parish Priest is its interpre-tation of the facts. For besides giving us a portrait of a great saint, the author paints a picture of a man. And the life of John Vianney was not a series of interludes between one extraordinary event after another. A man capable of deep discouragement and subject to great psychological tensions, he had been tempted to give up his studies for the priesthood, to desert Napoleon's army, and to flee from the responsibility of his parish. He was convinced that he was not fit for his job and feared greatly for his own salvation. It was his heroic perseverance in the face of these obstacles that was truly remarkable. In the author's opinion, the psychological tension under which the Curl worked was responsible for the "diabolical" disturbances in the saint's life. Whether or not the reader agrees with this explanation, he will find it thought-provoking and will welcome the insistence upon the fact that it was the Cur~'s heroic virtue and not the extraordinary events (whatever their expla-nation) that made him a saint. 248 BOOK REVIEWS St. John Vianney was a man filled with the horror of sin, because he was a saint filled with a love of the living God. But he was also a man who poured out condemnations of pleasures Which can be legitimate in themselves, a man who would refuse absolution to those who would not promise to give up dancing. Fie could, it is true, appreciate the humor of a situation; but on the whole he tended to see the dark side of things. Yet this should not be surprising in a man who grew up in a France in which the Church, was being persecuted and in which clouds of Jansenistic thought still darkened the moral atmos-phere. One new fact which the author brings to light

Issue 9.4 of the Review for Religious, 1950. ; ~uesfions Answered, Books I~evi~wed~ -Report~+o~om~ RI::VIi=W FOR Ri::LI IOUS VOLUME IX JULY, 1"950 NUMBER CONTENTS MEMOIR OF ALFRED SCHNEIDER~-Gerald Kelly, S.J . 169 THE "LITTLE" VIRTUES--Stephen Brown, S.J . 176 ADJUSTMENT OF NEGRO CHILDREN TO A MIXED PAROCHIAL SCHOOL--A Sister of the Holy Names 179 OUR cONTRIBUTORS . 184 ATTEND TO READING--Augustine Klaas, S.J . 185 BOOK REVIEWS-- St. Teresa of Jesus; Storm of Glory; Purgatory; Psychiatry and Asceti-cism . 197 BOOK NOTICES . 201 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS . 203 FOR YOUR INFORMATION-- Passionist Ghampion; Company of Mary; Servants of Mary; Little Office; Varia . 205 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS-- 18. How to Fill the Water Cruet . ; . 207 19. The Perplexed Conscience . 207 20. Several Hosts to One Communicant . 208 REPORT TO ROME . 209 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, July, 1950. Vol. IX, No.,4. Published bi-monthly: January, March, May, July, September, a~d November at the College Press, 606 Harrison Street, Topeka, Kansas, by St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas, with ecclesiastical approbation. Entered as second class matter January 15, 1942, at the Post Office, Topeka, Kansas, under the act of March 3, 1879. Editorial Board: Adam C. Ellis, S.J., G. Augustine Ellard, S.J., Gerald Kelly, S.J. Copyright, 1950. by Adam C. Ellis. Permission is hereby granted for quotations of reasonable length, provided due credit be given this review and the author. Subscfiptlon price: 2 dollars a year. Printed in U. S. A. Before wr|t|ng to us, please consult notice on inside back cover. Memoir 6t:. All:red chneider Gerald Kelly, S.3. ~N OUR MARCH number (p. 112) we announced the sudden death of Father Alfred F. Sc, hneider, S.3. Shortly after this announcement a loyal friend of the Review wrote to us: "The notice about Father Alfred Schneider made'me make remembrance of him. Now I understand that note of gentleness and considerateness which I always found in his prompt and courteous replies." This note is typical of what scores of others might have written. During his years as editorial secretary Father Schneider carried on most of our editorial business with subscribers and authors; and the number of those who benefited by h'is prompt and kindly service is very large. These, we feel sure, would like to know more about him than we were able to put into a brief notice. Another reason for the present sketch is the value of Father Schneider to the Review itself.¯ We are not waxing poetic when we say that he brought us hope in our darkest hour. Our charter sub-scribers will remember that we had hardly launched this enterprise when war, with all its problems, was upon us. The war made it difficult to get materials and raised the price of such as were available. The war and the postwar period made such demands on college and seminary personnel that many priests and religious who would have helped us with articles had not the leisure. And this same shortage of personnel made it necessary for the editorial board to handle countless details for which they were not prepared. Despite the fact that we had the generous help of Jesuit scholastics and young priests, our early years were very dark. The difficulties just outlined grew in intensity through the early ¯ years of our publication until the middle of 1944. That was when Father Schneider brought relief. We do not wish to imply that, without him, we should have had to discontinue publication---only God knows that; but we can certainly say that his. help towards th~ continuance of this Review was immeasurable, if not absolutely essential. The following pages are not a "biography" of Father Schneider. For the most part they simply record the present writer's personal impressions gleaned through more than five years of intimate col-laboration with Father Schneider. These memories are supplemented, 169 GERALD KELLY Ret,qeto for Religious however, with data supplied by others and with a few facts obtained " from Father.Schneider's notes. Alfred F. Schneider was born in St. Paul, Minnesota, February 8, 1899. He was one of the oldest of a large family. He attended St. Agnes Grade School, took a two-year commercial course at St. Thomas College, and went to work. After several years of steno-graphic work in various business houses he became secretary to the President of the St. Paul-Minneapolis Street Car Company. During these years he managed to cover a regular high school course by attending night school. His business and stenographic experience was obviously an invaluable asset to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. He was an excellent typist, a good bookkeeper, and, of course, he knew shorthand. For myself, I found his shorthand both enviable and exasperating. Often I sat at my desk green-eyed as I watched him make notes with light-ning rapidity. Often, too, was I exasperated when I found on my desk a manuscript, the margin of which was covered with "hen scratches"--the common designation in our office for his shorthand notations. The exasperation, incidentally, did not end with his death. Some books he had been reviewing contained only a few scraps of paper covered with the "hen scratches"; and his retreat notes and personal notes, which I was privileged to examine, were scarcely more revealing. I am told that when he first considered the priesthood his thoughts were directed toward the diocesan clergy; later--for some reason contained perhaps in his shorthand legacy--they centered on the Jesuits. At the age of twenty-four he went to Campion College, Prairie du Chien, Wisconsin, to review his Latin and other studies. He entered the novitate at Florissant, Missouri, on August 8, 1924. In a Jesuit novitiate (and very likely in other novitiates) a man of twenty-five is considered a sort of patriarch. Regulations to th~ contrary notwithstanding, such men are often christened "Pop." Father Schneider was no exception to this contrary-to-regulations custom; he became Pop Schneider. Moreover, because of his com-paratively venerable age he was transferred to the Juniorate after having completed only one year of novitiate. Among us, these older novices who follow the Juniorate regime during their second year of noviceship are sometimes referred to as "skullcap Juniors." The origin of this expression seems to be that "once upon a time" ~he novices following the Juniorate order wore skullcaps to distinguish 170 July, 1950 MEMOIR OF ALFRED SCHNEIDER them from the ordinary novices, who had no special head covering, and from the full-fledged Juniors, who had taken their vows and were supposed to wear the biretta.' As amatter of fact, though there were several "skullcap Juniors" while I was at Florissant, I never saw a skullcap except on some venerable lay Brother. On the occasion of his first vows, August 15, 1926, the Juniors gave their "skullcap" confrere a grand reception; and his age did not prevent him from responding with as much warmth as would the youngest novice. In a letter to his parents, afte'r having expressed great joy o'~er his religious profession, he added: "I was the only ,lunio~? among the vow men and my fellow- Juniors gave me a specially warm reception. A huge bouquet of snowballs stood on my desk, and a smaller bouquet of other flowers; and then there were letters, and notes of congratulation, with little personal notes, and holy cards, so that when I sat down to read them I felt like a big business man opening his morning's mail. I believe that every Junior in the house had something for me. May God bless them all a thousand times for their kindness.''* His warmth was not confined to his fellow-Jesuits. In this same letter he very beautifully expressed his affection for and gratitude to his parents: "It would, of course, be impossible for me to tell you all that I felt or thought or did on, such a never-to-be-forgotten day as yester-day; but I don't want you to think for a moment that now I am wholly cut off from you. It is true I now belong to the Lord, but my love for the best father and mother in the world is not one whir diminished. The Lord would be ill-pleased with me were I ever to forget the big debt of gratitude that I owe you. It. is only too true that one does not appreciate father and mother.' until one is separated from them; and if I have not always shown you the love, respect, and gratitude that I owe you, I will try now to make up for it by my prayers and true love for you. So, do not think that in giving a son and daughter to Christ [one of his sisters is in the convent] that you are losing. No, Mother and Dad, you are gaining immeasur-ably; and I feel certa,¯ l,n that as the years roll o{n you wdl understand that more and more. 1During my tine at Florissant a "skullcap .lunior" named Peter A. Brooks took his vows. The ,lunlors decorated his desk not only with flowers but with a large sign bearing the words, "Peter Noster." Not so many y~ars later he became "Pater Noster" when he was made Provincial oi~ the Missouri P}ovince. As provincial, he obtained permission for us to start this Reoiet~ and asstste~ us with constant encour-agement during our early years. 171 GERALD KELLY Reoieto tot Religiotts The years did roll on. From 1927 to 1930, Father Schneide~ made his philosophical studies at Mount St. MichaeI's, near Spokane, Washington; from 1930 to 1932, he taught at Campion; and from 1932 to 1936, he made the course of theology at Woodstock Col-lege, Woodstock, Maryland. He was ordained at Woodstock in June, 1935. For the spiritual formation of a Jesuit tbd most important single period is the "Year of Third Probation," commonly called the ter-tianship. During this year, and especially during the long retreat which is made near the beginning of the year, one crystallizes the ideal that has been gradually forming during the preceding years of training. Father Schneider made his tertianship at Cleveland, Ohio, from the beginning, of September, 1936, to the end of June, 1937. For the most part, the spiritual notes made during his long retreat are "hen scratches"--absolutely unrevealing, as far as I am concerned; fortunately, however, the principal items of his ]Election are in long-hand. Among his personal needs he lists the "grace to be an exem-plary priest and Jesuit." That he received this grace and that he co-operated with it admirably would be the unhesitating testimony . of all who lived with him here at St. Mary's. Of very special interest is the fact that be considered human respect and indolence to be the principal obstacles in his pursuit of perfection. This item aptly illustrates the old saying that one never knows the true spiritual stature of a man unless he knows his "old Adam." During all the time I knew him I revered him as a man of principle and industry; and I feel sure that all the others in our office bad similar sentiments. We would not have suspected that he could ever seriously accuse himself of either human respect or indolence. If these vices represented his "old Adam," then in him the "new Adam" seems to have attained a complete victory. Afte'r tertianship Father Schneider was assigned to St. Mary's for two years of private study of canon law. The original plan had been to send him to Rome for a doctorate, but this had to be changed because of the condition of his health. In 1939 he began a series of rapid changes which included two years of teaching at St. Louis University, one year as assistant at the parish of St. Ferdinand's, Florissant, two more years at Campion, then back to St. Mary's in the fall of 1944 as editorial secretary of the Retffew. 'It was his health, not his temperament, that accounted for these many changes. An exceptionally talented man, as well as docile and co-operative, he 172 dulg, 1950 MEMOIR OF ALFRED SCHNEIDER would have been an asset to any college; but he was not strong enough to follow the regular schedule of a high school or college teacher. His assignment to the Reoiew was a b!essing to all concerned. For himself, the flexibility of his schedule allowed him to portion out his work according to his strength. For us, his varied talents made him the ideal secretary. Not only was he efficient at book-keeping, typing, and business details, as I have already mentioned; but his knowledge of theology and canon law, plus a generous endowment of good taste, made him an excellent judge of manu-scripts. Add to these the fact that he was a careful editor and proof-reader, and it is easily seen that his service to us was invaluable. His judgment that a manuscript should be rejected was always sympathetic and was never made without a second reading. But once made, his opinion was very definite; and he was no respecter of persons, not even of editors. (This may be one reason why I was amazed to discover that he had ever considered human respect to be one of his failings!) In my own files are several manuscripts which, in kedping with his suggestions, "await revision before publication." Attached to one of these manuscripts is a neatly typed note bearing this verdict: "The examples given in this article are of relatively rare occurrence in religious life. If you could add some that have more or less daily application, I should think it would enliven the article, especially the first part.---A.F.S., S.J." This is typical of his prac-tical criticisms; he always thought in terms of the readers. Efficiency in handling office details made it possible for him to go out fairly frequently to give retreats, Forty Hours' devotions, and days of recollection. He loved this work and seems to have done it remarkably well. His notes made for retreats, conferences, and ser-mons are filled, of course, with the inevitable "hen scratches"; but there are sufficient longhand and typed notations to indicate that everything was well planned. Moreover, reports were always favor-able. As one Sister superior put it, "He gave us an excellent retreat, one that we shall remember the rest of our lives." To this statement she added, "He reminded me of P~re Ginhac." This last remark referred not only to his solid spirituality, but also to his seriousness. Certainly his appearance was serious. He was tall (well over six feet), gaunt, more than semibald, dark-complexioned-- a perfect replica of the traditional, picture of the ascetic. And he was of serious disposition, too. A man who begins .173 GERALD KELLY Review For Religious each day with the realization that it may be his last is not prone to levity. But as he had the gravity of the saint, he also had the saint's sense of humor. By this Imean a keen and gentlemanly sense of humor. It did not respond to the crude or the unchaiitable, but it reacted instantaneously to the wholesomely amusing. He often com-plained to me that the Review tended to become too heavy, that it needed a lighter touch. He particularly liked the articles of our Fran-ciscan contributors, Father Claude Kean and Father Richard Leo Heppler, because of their cheerytone. In his last act of censorship for the Review he chuckled repeatedly while reading "Eyes Right?" by Father Richard Leo. The next day, scarcely ten minutes before we found him dead on the floor of the office, be was joking with Father Ellis. I have several times referred to the suddenness of his death. In one sense it was very sudden. Father Ellis and I left the office, leaving Father Schneider working at his desk. A few minutes later Father Ellis heard a crash, rushed back to the office, and found Father Schneider stretched out on the floor. Apparently he had left his desk to put something in a filing cabinet and as he turned back toward the desk he was stricken either by a heart attack or by a cerebral hem-orrhage. There was no sign of warning or of struggle; death must have come like the snap of a light bulb. Yet, in another sense, it was not sudden for him. Before he entered the Society a thyroid condi-tion had damaged his heart, and from the early days of his religious life he had known'that he had only a threadlike hold on life. At any moment,the thread might snap. Perhaps it was his coflsciousness of impending death that made him so orderly. His person, his room, his desk, his notes and accounts were always neatly arranged. His record of Mass intentions was kept with perfect clarity right up to the day of his death. During 1948-49 he had much extra work to do, especially in functioning as minister of this large house; and this forced him to get behind in balancing his office books. In the early weeks of 1950, despite very serious headaches, he worked assiduously to bring these accounts up to date. This was accomplished just a week or two before he died. As a boy, Father Schneider had loved sports; in the Society, however, his weakened heart prevented him from taking any active part in athletics. He showed his devotion both to baseball and to his brethren by assuming .the unattractive avocation of umpire. Later, 174 dulg, 1950 MEMOIR OF ALFRED SCHNEIDER even the umpiring had to-cease; but his interest continued. To the day of his death he could give with animation and precision the batting averages, pitching records, and so forth, of various teams and ~ndividuals over a long period of years. Another recreational taste cultivated in his youth was for good music. This, too, remained with him through the years; his occasional opportunities of listening to a broadcast of an opera or a ~symphony were a source of great joy to him. Looking back on the life of a friend, one can usually find many aspects under which to summarize the salient factors. One such gen-eral aspect of Father Schneider's life would be his maturity. He had a definite ideal of priestly and religious holiness and he strove methodically to attain it. He had a tendency to scrupulosity, but, at least in his later years, he was the master, not the slave, of this tendency. For the most part, he solved his own problems; when be needed advice be asked for it and followed it calmly. A man of strong likes and dislikes, as well as of vehement temper, he controlled these emotions in the interests of charity and of his own mental peace. He once told me that he had to be careful to read nothing about Communism in the late evening because such accounts usually made him angry and deprived him of needed ~leep. He adjusted admirably to the inconveniences and frustrations consequent to his illness. He was a good companion at recreation, especially a good listener; he was not the type to leave the little details that make for pleasant and efficient community living to "the other fellow." Another aspect under which I might summarize my impression of Father Schneider's life is suggested by Father Louis Hertling, S.3., in his manual of ascetical theology (Tbeologia Ascetica). In the last part of this book Father Hertling discusses the norms for heroic virtue described by Prosper Lambertini (later Benedict XIV) in his treatise on The Beatit~cation and Canonization of the Servants of God. According to Father Hertling, the pen picture of the saintly religious runs as follows: "He loves his own institute. He observes the rules, even the slightest. He keeps to his dell. He observes both juridical and real poverty. He is &hgent in carrying out his duties ~n rehglon. He ~s modest ~n exterior deportment. H~s separation from the world and worldly things is real. He is reverent towards diocesan priests and members of other religious institutes. He makes the spiritual exer-cises prescribed by rule. He is indefatigable in labor, but modest, and 175 STEPHEN BROWN Revieu~ for Religious without self-seeking.''2 To this list, I might add a few points given by Father Hertling in his sketch of the holy diocesan priest: reverence and earnestness in the things that pertain to divine worship; cultivation of theological knowledge; diligence in preaching and hearing confessions. I cannot say whether Father Schneider practised all these virtues of the priest and religious to a heroic degree; but I feel sure that in his final exam-ination on them be must have bad a very high grade. The "Lit:t:le" Vir!:ues Stephen Brown, S.J. IN SERMONS and various spiritual instructions we are ever hearing repeated those great words, Charity, Mortification, Hu-mility, Faith, Self-sacrifice, Perseverance, and the like. They have become so familiar that we are apt not to PaY attention to them, or, if we do, they awe us with the thought of the lofty vir-tues they stand for. But there are other virtues which the preachers do not so commonly preach about and which yet are worthy of thought. St. Francis de Sales used to call them the "little" virtues. Here is a characteristic passage from one of his letters: "Let us prac-tise certain little virtues proper to our littleness, virtues that are exer-cised rather by going down than going up, and therefore not so hard on our legs--patience, forbearance, service, affability, tolerance of our own imperfection, and.other similar little virtues.". If the great virtues seem too much for us, glorious ideals, no doubt, but so far away and so high above us, we may console our-selves with the thought that we can reach the same end by practising the "little" virtues. We are not called on every day to plank down ten-dollar bills or sign checks for I know not how many dollars. No, we pay our modest dimes or quarters, not disdaining even a copper or two, if more be needed. An hour may come, no doubt, in our lives when God will ask us for our little all. And then, no doubt, He will provide us with grace to make the sacrifice. But meantime we keep on paying our little daily installments. There are people who--if not in theory, certainly in practice-- 2The translation is not literal. 176 Ju!g, 1950 THE "LITTLE" VIRTUES make little of the little virtues. They are ready to be charitable, but in the meantime forget to be merely polite. There are others who have great respect, no doubt, for purity and chastity, but are not overparticular about ordinary modesty. And those are not unknown who practise mortification but on occasion are quite likely to insist on getting the best of what is going. There are even people who extol religion but deprecate piety. Yet it seems to me that a certain saying of Our Lord to the effect that "he that is faithful in that which is least is faithful also in that which is greater" (Luke 16:10) has an application here. And again: "W~I1 done, thou good servant, because thou hast been faith-ful in a little, thou shalt have power over ten cities" (Luke 19:17). We might take the great virtues one by one and descant on the little virtues that go to make them up. Humility is a formidable virtue. But we might begin with it by being modest about our own achievements or refrain from making the conversation turn about our merits. That doesn't seem too hard. Abnegation is a hard word, and no doubt a hard thing, but we might start by occasionally letting other people have their way. It is a little virtue without a name, this art of giving in--at all events, I cannot put a name to it. And so we might go on. But lest our thoughts become too scattered let us fix them for a moment on those "little" virtues that are the small change of charity. I have menti6ned politeness. It may be merely the outcome of good breeding--and wherever it comes from how welcome it is! But it may also be a real virtue. To say the least, as one writer puts it, in order to be holy it is not necessary to be boorish. A man may be actually a gentleman as well as a saint. To another little virtue, cordiality, St. Francis de Sales devotes one of his wonderful confer-ences. After explaining what he means by it, he says it ought to be accompanied by two other virtues, one of which may be called affability and the other cheerfulness. "Affability," he goes on, '~is a virtue which spreads a certain agreeableness over all the business and serious communications we have with one another; while cheerful-ness is that which renders us gracious and agreeable in our recrea-tions and less serious intercourse with one another." How much the one and the other might, and no doubt do, help to oil the wheels of life. St. Ignatius LoYola set value on these little virtues, for he objected to wrinkles on the nose. There is another modest little virtue well worthy of considera-tion, and that is considerateness. It is practised by the person who 177 not only remembers your existence but ac(ually avoid~ hurting your feelings or rubbing you the wrong way, as the saying goes. He refrain~ from needless noise (hearken all ye who live overhead!). He remembers the nerves of nervous people; he does not ask embarrassing questions, and abstains from comment where comment might be unkind or inopportune. It is the most unobtrusive of little virtues, and we are often unaware of it in other people. But we are only too well aware of the lack of it when it is absent. Politeness, urbanity, courtesy may be taken as practically synonymous. And then there is obligingness. Who does not like and value the obliging man? But, like all virtues, it must steer a clear course between extremes-~between grumpiness and disobligingnes, on the one hand, and subservience, not to say flunkeyism, on the other. And what of companionableness or sociability? What of helpfulness? What of tactfulness? They are all just aspects of charity-~charity as it works out in daily life. Nevertheless, besides the people who despise the little virtues through a delusion that they are practising the great ones, there are also people sincerely aiming at higher things who are apt to neglect these virtues as merely natural. Well, everything that is natural is not wrong, nor even negligible. God is the ~iuthor of nature as well as of grace. Man pervbrts it or wrests it to purposes of his own. Moreover, these virtues need not be merely natural. Motive or inten-tion can raise them to the supernatural plane. And the minor virtues that center round charity have a peculiar value of their own. They are social virtues: they concern not ourselves alone but those about us. They help to make life happier for both ourselves and them. And I think we may even say that they help to make us Christlike. Is there one of them that the Master did not practise, one of them that He would have thought beneath Him? And, after all, the littleness of these virtues lies not so much in themselves or their results as in the things and circumstances that occasion the practice of them--trifling words, looks, gestures, mere silences. They are virtues of meal time and recreation time, of the breakfast table, the fireside, and the bus. But they have echoes in heaven. [EDITORS' NOTE: This article is the introduction to what we hope will be a series of articles on "The Little Virtues" by Father Brown. For' another of his articles on a similar topic see "Concerning Patience," in REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, "VII, 141.] 178 Adiust:ment: ot: Negro Children t:o a Mixed Parochial School A Sister of the Holy Names ST. JOACHIM'S was not always an interracial school. From its remote beginnings it had served a French national parish. When we first began to enroll the colored the very novelty of each isolated case brought the thrill of pioneering. Five years ago we eased into our present position by accepting Catholic colored children on a larger scale. Naturally others not of the faith sought admission. Some few, at the discretion of the principal, were admitted. Each year since then our colored enrollment has increased until this year seventy-five per cent of our student body is colored. Because we started with Catholic children we did not experience the same difficulties at first that we met later. There was some initial resentment shown by our white pupils but this soon changed to admiration. Now there is a calm and unquestioning acceptance of their biracial school. The very few families who transferred their children to other schools because of the change were no great loss. We Sisters of the Holy Names have several schools for colored children in Florida, as well as five missions in South Africa. But this was our first attempt at interracial education on a large scale. .Hor-rified gasps met our early efforts; but, perhaps to the disappointment of the scandalized, no major issue has yet arisen involving color. Nor, with the grace of God, will any arise. With no established precedent known to us, we have had to feel our way. The results have been happy. Let me begin with some don'ts. Never favor a colored child in the classroom. He wants to be treated like the others, not better. I'll always remember the first colored boy I taught. Everything he said or did seemed amusing, and I had difficulty suppressing my smiles. He soon took advantage of my good nature, occupying the limelight for the remainder of the year. The next year I treated him like the others and we both spent a more profitable year. Similarly, don't even seem to mistreat him. He is likely to assume that you're doing it because of his color. If he deserves punishment and under-stands why you are inflicting it, he will submit without difficulty. But you have lost a friend if he suspectsyou of partiality on the basis 179 SISTER OF THE HOLY NAMES Revtew for Religious of color. Be fair, then, in meting out punishment. If two or more are involved, punish all or excuse all. This may seem obvious. We have a classic incident here which we refer to as the Davis Incident. Mr. Davis, a Negro, is a World War I veteran, a man who married late in life and has a philosophy of life all his own. He is moreover very strict with his children and wants to co-operate with the school in every way. Last year a new white family, the 2osephs., moved into the neighborhood. The children came to our school. Instead of going home one day at dismissal time,, Davis Junior and Joseph Junior chased each other up and down the church steps. Both boys were taken to the school "court" where the Patrol Boys arraign those who disobey school ordinances. The Sister in charge, seeing 2oseph Junior in heart-melting tears, excused him. It was his first offense, and she knew he wouldn't do it again. Davis Junior, on the other hand, was awaiting his punishment like a man. He had been to our school for a full year: therefore he should have known better. Hence, a penance for Davis. That night Mr. Davis held his own court in the convent parlor with the Sisters as accused. He insisted that it was only just either to punish both boys or to excuse both. "But the other boy is new and not familiar with the school customs," we hedged. "All the more reason for punishing both to prevent further breaches," came the relentless reply. After much discussion, Mr. Davis very touchingly ended with, "If you don't punish the white boy (God bless you, Sisters), please don't punish mine." Don't be antagonistic. If you don't like the colored and can't treat them fairly, ask to be changed. Naturally very sensitive, they resent the slightest tendency a teacher may have to dislike them. Per-sonally, I have to think twice beford I list pupils as colored or white. I simply forget the color. They are all little ones to be encouraged, checked or admonished, urged, and taught; but never children of one race or another. Other Sisters tell me they have the same experience. Now for the positive side. Be strict but kind. Strictness will never be resented if they understand that it is for their own good. In most cases their parents are strict (we think sometimes too strict), but the fact remains that their children show a much higher respect for the parents than do the white children we have at present. Of course we must keep in mind that the pupils we teach come, for the most part, from the poorer homes. ¯ There are four large well-equipped public schools within walking distance. In spite of this fact, the parents make great sacrifices to keep their children with u~. dut~,1950 INTERRACIAL SCHOOL ADJUSTMENT As' one earnest mother put it: 'TII work my fingers to the bone before I'I1 be so foolish as to take my boy out of St. Joachim's." Another non-Catholic mother who works nights to pay the fees answered her employer, when be endeavored to persuade her to send her children to'the public school: "As far as I can judge, the Catholic school is giving the better education. The best is none too good for them. If I have to stop eating, they will go to the Catholic school." School standards must be set high and maintained. Nothing mediocre will suffice. Colored parents want for .their children what they have never had: a solid religious education. Though theyhave little.respect for easily-won laurels, they s6metimes expect miracles once their children are in our hands. In this connection a strange (or perhaps not so strange) fact merits attention here. Many chil-dren have come to us from special classes for ungraded pupils in the public schools. (I have five such in my own class.) All, without exception, show a marked improvement. ,We have found that they can learn, in some cases as well as or better than the average pupil. One was an inveterate truant. He has not missed a day of school since he came to us. Is it the personal touch? I don't know. Give plenty of homework. Most parents want to help their children and incidentally learn something themselves. True, a few of them are college graduates. Several more have gone through high school. But the majority have had nothing more than an inter-mittent schooling in the "South." Most home backgrounds are therefore apparently not conducive to scholarship. Yet our colored pupils lead their white classmates in scholastic achievement in every grade. We have found it preferable to enroll new colored students in the lower grades only. They are more amenable, at the age of five or six, to discipline and training than they are when they enter a Cath-olic school for the first time in their early teens. Invariably, non- Catholic pupils accepted for the upper grades are problems. They come with their attitudes fixed and their characters strongly devel-oped along paths that conflict with our teaching aims. Consequently, only Catholic children are accepted into the school for the higher grades; the lower grades are open to all who satisfy the entrance requirements. After two or three year~ with us, these children are more docile to our teaching, their behavior is decidedly improved, and their wholesome outlook on life is reflected in the family" circle. Many parents ask to take religious instructions or are importuned by their children to do so within a year or two. 181 SISTER OF THE HOLY NAMES Reoiew t~or Religious Among the fine qualities which we have had abundant oppor-tunity to admire in our colored people, I'd stress their co-operation, their cleanliness (in spite of their tremendous housing difficulties), their high ideals, and last, but certainly not least, their attraction to and love of things spiritual. Never have we received from our white pupils the co-operation and encouragement which the colored have given. Last fall we needed window shades in our classrooms. Those shades which we could pull down either stayed down or came down altogether. Some windows had none to pull down. The mothers of our colored pupils were invited to discuss the matter. They came, nearly every one, conducted the meeting in.parliamentary style~ spon-sored a very successful party, and really amazed us. We now have new window shades on every window in every classroom. Colored parents follow the behavior and the studies of their chil-dren very closely. They frequently telephone or stop a minute after school hours to find out how Isaiah or Donna is progressing. The bimonthly report is not just another card to sign but a meaningful record which both parents and pupils take seriously. Suppose Wood-row is not behaving properly: a note to his mother sets him right. Should Dorsilla become negligent in her studies, a phone call brings results. Thirty of my forty-five pupils are colored. I find my most care-ful workers among them. Boys especially surprise me by their atten-tion to details, their striving for perfection. They would rather not hand in any paper than one that is poorly written or has a mistake on it. On the whole, I have found them clean and neat physically as well as morally. Of course there are some who are untidy, but they are the exception. The colored have high ideals. Their standards are set for the best in everything; such at least is my experience. That is one reason why our Catholic faith appeals so strongly to them. Some of the parents have made mistakes in their own lives; they are eager to fielp their children avoid the pitfalls into .which they themselves have fallen. They see and appreciate the difference between the behavior of the public-school children and our pupils (speaking again of our own neighborhood). Therefore they make untold sacrifices to insure the best training, the best instruction, the best education for their dar-lings. They are not living aimlessly. They have ambitious futures outlined. The children themselves are imbued with their parents' high ideals. You would perhaps be surprised to hear these poor people express 182 19.50 INTERRACIAL SCHOOL ADdUSTMENT their religious opinions. They are hungry for God. They are seeking not a "revival" religion but one that is solid, secure, and authoritative. One family, whose children were among our first Catholic colored pupils, boasts two altar boys. These boys refused so absolutely to go to a public school that thei~ mother was obliged to send them to St. Benedict the Moor's boarding school in Mil-waukee. There they were baptized and made their first Holy Com-munion. The following year they came to us. The older bo3~, a senior altar boy now, is fidelity personified. He serves the nine o'clock Mass every Sunday, rain, snow, or sunshine. He is an honor student at the Catholic high school he attends. Both boys are fre-quent communicants. And all this, despite the fact that neither mother nor stepfather is Catholic. An aunt who teaches in a special school in New York, also a non-Catholic, made several trips West to assure herself of her nephews' educational progress. Each time she has expressed her admiration and appreciation of Catholic education. Could you but come and see for yourself how nonexistent are the bogeys of interracial education, my explanations would be needless. In class, as well as in church, no distinction is made in seating. Side byside they learn their lessons, say their prayers, play their games. Side by side, too, they bear Mass, receive Holy Communion, and serve at the altar. In instructing the many parents who seek bap-tism, the priests in charge of our parish believe in the "slow but sure" adage. They try the perseverance and constancy of their catechumens before baptism. How fervent these colored converts are. Yes, a very few grow careless with the years: but of course as much can be said of our lifelong Catholics. Many of our newly-converted colored families move to better neighborhoods. Yet, some of the children continue to come to our school, although it means coming halfway across the city by bus or streetcar. Others enroll in the nearest Catholic school; the same school might have refused them entrance a year before. It is our consolation to know that they still receive a Catholic education in their changed circumstances. We plant, others water; but God gives the increase. Our first fully-interracial' graduation took place last year. All these graduates are at present in Catholic high schools. They .are continuing their Catholic education side by side with white students, partaking in all school activities on an equal basis. Now to give some general impressions. Some tendencies must be checked. But they are the tendencies which historians tell us are 183 A SISTER OF THE HOLY NAMES manifested by any minority group. Those who sigh over the diff-culties of our present-day teaching efforts forget the very real diffi-culties they encountered a few years ago with o, tber minorities. Besides, every authority recognizes that the already difficult task of teaching has been made doubly hard by the weakening of family dis-cipline, The undesirable traits which I mention are not monopolized by our colored brethren. Fighting, for instance. Resentment. In-feriority complex. These have to be checked rigorously and sen-sibly. We rarely experience difficulties in this regard between the races. Usually it is the colored who quarrel among themselves (or the white as the case may be). Name-calling is unheard of between white and colored. By taking these youngsters in the lower grades, we are succeeding, with the invaluable aid of parents and priests, in teaching them to live peaceably with one another; to regard all men (even if all men do not so regard them) as friends and brothers: to face their difficulties with courage, confident that with God's help they can succeed here and hereafter. We have iiadustrious pupils and lazy ones, bright ones and dull, quick and slow, polite and thoughtless. But these categories are no respecters of color. Racial tensions develop not in school but in the homes where an older generation, grown fearful, sows the seeds of strife and disunion. With us, the teachings of the Church are fearlessly taught. Non- Catholics are expected to take part in. all religion classes. What a beautiful object lesson a colored altar boy can be as, paten in hand, he serves the priest at the Communion rail. It is with no mere mouthing of fine phrases that we teach the lesson that a compassion-ate Christ taught: His love for all men; that He died for all: that black, brown, yellow, and white, we must love one another as He has loved us. How much better our pupils understand this when they look around and see boys and girls of every shade of brown treated the same as those born white. The. best way to get information on interracial education is to see such a school in action. OUR CONTRIBUTORS GERALD KELLY and AUGUSTINE KL,~AS are members of the faculty at St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas. STEPHEN 2. BROWN is a professor at the National University of Ireland, Dublin. 184 Aid:end !:o Reading Augustine Klaas, S.J. 44ATTEND to reading," St. Paul long ago advised Timothy t~ (I Tim. 4:13). By this admonition bishops--and pre-sumably priests, too, since they should be imitating their bishops--are counseled to peruse the Holy Scriptures for spiritual reading. Religious are given to understand the importance of spiritual reading by some of the Fathers of the Church, for example, by St. Jerome, who in his own peculiar way urges Eustochium, a Roman virgin seeking perfection in the nearby convent at Bethlehem, to "let ~leep steal over you holding a book, and let the sacred page receive your nodding head." So necessary for his monks did St. Benedict consider daily reading of the Holy Scriptures and of other spiritual works that he used to send two of the brethren around to check on them strictly during this exercise, for he considered such reading the living spring whence flowed the streams of prayer. This can be said to be the general tradition of religious communities from the earliest times down to the present. While it it true that the cur-rent canon law regarding religious does not mention it explicitly, spiritual reading is certainly included under the heading ~f the "other practices of piety," which superiors must see that their subjects per-form daily (canon 565). As a matter of fact, the constitutions of almost all religious orders and congregations approyed by the Holy See prescribe specifical!y at least a quarter hour of daily spiritual reading or its equivalent, whether in private or in common. Today the laity are becoming increasingly aware of the need of spiritual reading fo~ advancement in prayer and virtuous living, and they are'making use of it more and more. These readers of spiritual books are usually yearly retreatants, active sodalists, and the militants of Catholic Action, but there are many others also. Even non- Catholics are helping in a surprising way to make certain Catholic spiritual books nation-wide best-sellers. I Spiritual reading is not just any sort of reading. It is not casual reading as of a newspaper, novel, or poem. Neither is it "heavy" reading, as of scientific, historical, or philosophical works. It is not 185 AUGUSTINE KLAAS Review [or Reli~lious reading for esthetic pleasure, literary appreciation, historical infor-marion, scientific acumen, or doctrinal erudition: at least, such is not the primary purpose of this kind of reading. What, then, is it? It is the reading of Holy Scripture, spiritual books, lives of Christ, of the Blessed Virgin, and of the saints, not so much for knowledge or for some other similar purpose as for moral improvement, for progress in the spiritual life. Spiritual reading is directed to the will rather than to the intellect; it aims more at the heart than at the head. It seeks principally to stir up the affections, move the will, and produce virtuous action. Father Alvarez de Paz gives the classi-cal definition: "Spiritual reading is perusing the pages of Holy.Scrip-ture or the books of the holy Doctors, not so much"that we may know, but rather that we may advance in spirit, learn the will of God; and do it." Elsewhere be calls it spiritu~al reading when we seek in spiritual books "not only the knowledge but much more the relish ~and love of spiritual things." In some ways the reading of a spiritual book has distinct advan-tages over listening to a sermon or exhortation, having a conference with a religious superior or spiritual guide, or discussing spiritual matters in private conversation with a friend. Verba votar~t . Spoken words easily come and go. The printed word is far more permanent and tends to produce a more lasting effect, since what is printed can be reread, pondered, prayed over, and thoroughly assimi-lated. Without strain or too much distraction the last drop of goodness can be leisurely distilled from it. Books, too, can be fearless informants of faults and defects, while preachers, superiors, and equal~ will sometimes bestitate to speak out, and indeed at times they may not be able to do so. Also, the preacher or counselor may be lacking in the special knowledge required for one's particular case; he may be mediocre, or even downright incompetent, whereas one can always choose one's spiritual reading, adapted to personal, needs, from the Holy Scriptures or the latest encyclical of the Pope, from the spiritual masters, .such as Augustine, Chrysostom, and Basil; across the crowded centuries to Marmion, Meschler, and Leen. M~reover, a spiritual book is a precious thing in itself. The Psalmist says (11:7): "The utterances of the Lord are holy utter-ances, silver tested by fire." Spiritual reading often contains latent power similar to that so impressively noted by the two disciples on the road to Emmaus: "Was not our heart burning within us whilst he spoke to us on the way, whilst he laid open to us the Scriptures?" (Luke 24:32.) And Christ tells us: "The words that I have spoken 186 dul~,1950 ATTEND TO READING to you are spirit and life" (John 6:64). And St. Paul: "For what-soever things were written aforetime were written for our instruc-tion, that through patience and through the comfort of the Scriptures we may have hope" (Rom. 15:4). According to the Holy Books themselves, the Scriptures are truth, fire, a lamp, a hammer, the sword of the spirit, an infinite treasure for men; they convert souls, give wisdom to little ores, enlighten the mind, and .rejoice the heart. What Holy Scripture here says of itself applies also in great part to ill spiritual books worthy of the name. II Undoubtedly spiritual reading is a powerful force for salvation and perfection. How many, like St. Justin, have ascribed to it their conversion to the true religion? St. Eugenia was converted by reading the Epistles of St. Paul; St. Domna by reading the Acts of the Apostles. St. Augustine attributed his moral conversion to spiritual reading. Already convinced intellectually of the true faith, he was still struggling with his unruly passions and perverse will, trying to break with his sinful past, when one day he heard the voice of a child sing-songing in a nearby house: "Tolle, lege," "Tolle, lege," "Take up and read." He recalled that the great St. Antony had been converted to a life of perfection by the chance hearing of the Gospel text: "Go, sell what thou hast, and give to the poor; and thou shalt have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me." So Augustine eagerly took up the New Testament, opened it at random, and read from St. Paul's.epistle to the Romans (13:13-14): "Not in revelry and drunkenness, not in debauchery and wantonness, not in strife and jealousy: But put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and as for the flesh, take no thought for its lusts." These words sent streams of light into his mind, warmth to his affections, and strength into his will. Then and there he broke with his sinful past forever. Cen-turies later Ignatius Loyola likewise found in spiritual reading a powerful stimulus to a better life. While recuperating from battle wounds at his ancestral castle he asked for some light reading, some romantic tales, to speed the tedious hours. None could be found ar the moment, so he had to content himself with reading the life of Christ and some saints' biographies. This re.ading, begun with reluc-tance, together with God's grace, initiated a revolutionary change in his whole !ife and started him on the road to sanctity. Augustine and Ignatius are not isolated instances. Countless men and women, of all states of life, have had the course of their moral and spiritual 187 AUGUSTINE KLAAS Review for Religious life changed for the better by reading the Scriptures and other spir-itual books. ¯ Hence it is not surprising that ascetical masters have been lavish in pointing out in detail the various effects produced by earnest spir-itual reading. Here are some of. the. things they say. It shows us our faults as in a mirror, warns of tempt.ations and helps to overcome them, gradually purifies the,,soul from: sin,, and, makes,,the.,,sense of sin ever more and more delicate. It is also a source of nourishment for the soul, since it feeds the soul with salutary truths, which hre its solid and substantial food, and thus plants wisdom. It disposes us for meditation, then enkindles and feeds the fire of prayer and con-templation; indeed, it is truly the "oil for the lamp of prayer." Or, to change the figure with St. Basil: prayers are the sinews of the soul, but the sinews of prayer are spiritual reading. Also, if prayer has gone. badly in the morning, reading can make up for it to a great exterit later in the day. It deepens faith, hope, charity, and all the virtues, stimulates to fervor and devotion, arouses the affections, and strengthens the will. St. Ambrose remarks that just as monks in winter make for the fire, so must we throw off the chill of the world by reading which kindles our love for God. Moreover, r~ading urges to emulation. Did not the youthful Teresa of Avila, on reading the vivid accounts of the early martyrs, immediati.'ly run off to martyr-dom, taking h~r little brother along? Fortunately they did not get very far on their way to Africa but were promptly fetched back home! Little by little spiritual r~ading produces deep interior peace, delight in God, contempt for the world and worldly things; it gives us to taste and experience how sweet is the Lord. It also stirs up apostolic zeal and can be very useful for the apostolate, since it indirectly supplies material for sermons, religion classes, spiritual guidance, and conversation. On the negative side, it prevents wasting precious time on books, magazines, and newspapers of little or no value to religious. In a word, it helps greatly toward making religious spiritually mature. No wonder, then, that so many saintly persons of the past were devoted to spiritual reading. Did not Our Lord Himself read from the Holy Scriptures in the synagogue? St. Augustine says that Our Lady was reading the prophecies of Isaias concerning the future Mes-sias when the angel appeared to her to announce that she was to be the mother of the Redeemer. The servant of Queen Candace was reading Isaias when the Holy Spirit sent the apostle Philip to baptize him. It is significant that the office of reader is a minor order in the 188 July, 1950 ATTEND TO READING Church. How the Iectio dit~ina was treasured in the early Church and by the monastic orders down the years! St. Dominic made great progress in holiness by constantly reading the C'onferer~ces of Cassian, and St. Thomas Aquinas by reading and rereading the Fathers of the Desert and the Fathers of the Church. In this way St. Je~:ome finally broke his inordinate attachment to the pagan classical authors. And didn't St. Teresa cure herself of excessive novel-reading in much the same fashion? We can say without fear of contradiction that the saints universally practiced spiritual reading. I merely note tha~: St. Francis de Sales Used to read himself to sleep at night with z spiritual book, usually Scupoli's Spiritual Combat. He was evidently-following St. 3erome's advice. No wonder the spiritual masters chant the .praises of spiritual'_ reading. Thomas ~ Kempis says that a convent or monastery with-out spiritual books is a kitchen without vegetables, a table without: food, a well without water, a river without fish, a bag without: clothing, a garden without flowers, a purse without money, a vine-. yard without grapes, a tower without guards, a house without fur-. niture; and be adds in all simplicity: "From all these evils and'. injuries to the soul may the good Lord 3esus Christ deliver us, and'. may He be wholly in all now and forever. Amen." Speaking of his: monks, St. Hugh of Lincoln asserts that spiritual books were their arms in time of war, their occupation in times of peace, their support in time of trial, and their remedy in time of sickness. Perhaps Plus X is the most eloquent of modern recommenders of spiritual reading. What he says in his L~tter to Catholic Priestg about its apostolic and personal value can be applied also to religious. "Great progress is made by priests who persevere in this habit of reading; they preach Christ with unction; instead of enervating and distracting the minds and hearts of their hearers, they lead them .to better things, lifting up their souls to heavenly desires. For another reason, very profitable to you, beloved sons, St. 3erome's precept holds good: 'Let spiritual reading be ever in your hands.' Who does not know the very great influence exercised on the mind by a friend who advises freely, who counsels, rebukes, encourages and preserves from'error? 'Blessed is be that findeth a true friend' (Ecclus. 25: 12); 'He that hath found him, hath found a 'treasure' (Ecclus. 6: 14). Now spiritual books may be accounted as true and faithful friends. They remind u~ forcibly of the precepts laid down by authority concerning, true discipline, awaken in us the still small voices of Heaven, reprehend all falling away from resolutions, disturb 189 AUGUSTINE KLAAS Reoieu2 for Religious deceitful calm, expose less worthy affections and self-deception, and reveal the many dangers that lie in the path of the unwary. This they do with such uhobtrusive kindness that they prove themselves to be, not only friends, but the very best of friends. They are beside us whenever we please, ever ready to minister to our secret needs; their voice is never harsh, their counsel never biased, their utteraBces never deceitful or fainthearted." Ill Spiritual reading can be made in private or in common. It is done in common when one person reads and the others listen. Although this way of reading is practised and even prescribed by many religious communities and has certain obvious advantages, yet reading in common is by no means theideal. It is much less effective in procuring the principal purpose of this exercise, namely, virtuous will-action, chiefly because the personal element of the individual religious is not sufficiently taken into consideration. After all, each religious has his own personality, his own spiritual problems, needs. and so forth. What is pertinent for one may not be for another, and at the moment may even be harmful. Spiritual reading in common seems to be a carry-over from the days when books were scarce and perhaps illiteracy not unknown among religious. At any rate, it cannot compare with private spiritual reading, which is being adopted more and more by religious communities, certainly an adaptive move in the right .direction. However, if it must be done in common, the reader should be a capable one, who with suitable preparation tries to read slowly, distinct.Iy, and reflectively. Even where reading in com-mon is practised by rule, other free periods of the day can be profit-ably utilized for private spiritual reading, if only for a half or quar-ter hour. Spiritual reading in private should be done daily, if possible, and at a fixed time, when one is free from duties, and the surroundings are at least relatively quiet. Some find the chapel an excellent place for private spiritual readir~z. The reading should be preceded by a moment ot recollection and a short prayer or aspiration asking for light and grace to benefit by it. The aim should be to read little rather than much--multum rather than malta--and this should be done slowly, leisurely, so that the matter has a chance to sink into the soul like a gentle rain. The reading must be attentive, reflective, ruminative. A wise old laybrother, on the way to spiritual reading, used to say: "Let us chew the cud; unless a sheep chews the cud, it 190 Jul~,1950 ATTEND TO READING will never grow fat." Hence, a pause from time to time, a pause to think, to pray, to meditate, to listen, for St. Augustine says, "When you pray, you speak to God; when you read, God speaks to you." Should we not listen to Him? An old spiritual writer counsels doing what chickens do when they drink water: they take a sip and then look up to. heaven, and keep repeating the process. When we come to something that strikes us, that stirs the affec-tions, we must stay there, read it over and over again, savor it, per-meate it with prayer and aspirations, even make a note of it for future reference. In this way we shall be like the prophet Ezechiel who was told to eat a book, not to swallow it whole; and then like him we ~oo shall find the book "sweet as honey" in the mouth (Ezech. 3:1-3). Such reading will produce fruit, thirty, sixty, and a hundred-fold, provided we understand, absorb, penetrate, realize, and apply to ourselves what we read. It will make us put on Christ, put on Our Blessed Lady, put on Paul, put. on David, put on all the saints and holy ones of God. Ascetical writers say: Read, not with a view to finding fault, but with a deep spirit of faith. It is so easy to be hypercritical and unfair, like spiders distilling venom where bees sip only sweet nec-tar. Read with humility. That is what h Kempis says: "If you wish to make progress, read humbly." Do not be frightened by the style, especially of the old masters; it is something quite secondary, if not unimportant, for our purpose. Persevere, too, and do not flit superficially from book to book. A sick man will never be cured if be merely browses about among the medicine bottles. IV What to read? We are not concerned here with the reading of spiritual books taken in an improper or analogous sense, though undoubtedly it has great advantage for the interior life.' Such, for example, is reading the book of nature. The writer recalls once travelling with a Cistercian abbot on a train going through the Swiss Alps. The mere sight of those snow-covered peaks bathed in sun-light seemed to take the contemplative abbot right out of this world, up to the beauty and grandeur of God. Many of the saints read the book of nature assiduously. Who does not recall Ignatius Loyola contemplating the stars; Francis of Assisi, the birds, animals, Brother Sun, find Sister Moon; Joseph of Cupertino striking the flowers with his cane to 'keep their beauty from sending him into an ecstasy; Teresa of Avila devoutly pondering the waters of fountains, brooks, 191 AUGUSTINE KLAAS Review [or Religious and streams; Francesca Cabrini gazing prayerfully on the wide expanse of the ocean? Perhaps religious do not do enough of this sort of reading; perhaps religious, especially nuns, are indoors too much. There is another type of this so-called reading: it is reading the book of the crucifix. Saints, like Thomas Aquinas and Bona-venture, found much wisdom in it. Philip Beniti (Breviary, Aug. 23) called the crucifix outright "my book." Neither are we so much interested in this article in spiritual reading taken in a proper but wide sense of the term. By this is meant perusing theological, philosophical, historical books, or reli-gious novels, plays, and poems, for spiritual reading. No doubt Franz Werfel's The Song o[ Bernadette or-Francis Tbompson's poems can readily be converted into spiritual reading, and surely this ought to be done at least occasionally as a relief and diversion from regular spirittial reading. By applying the method of reading sketched above, almost any book, even a grammar or scienc~ book, can become spiritual reading of sorts, but this is not spiritual reading in.the strict and ordinary sense, nor should it take the place of the daily reading prescribed by rule. A good norm is this: for the reading prescribed by rule, particularly if it is done in common, what is ordinarily meant by a spiritual book should be used, except on rare occasions. But for any extra time devoted to this exercise, over and above what is prescribed, one can be much freer in one's choice of books. (I might suggest, by way of digression, that in making this spir-itual reading in the wide sense, religious might keep in mind what Coleridge says of readers in general. He distinguishes four classes. "The first class of readers may be compared to an hour-glass, their reading being as the sand; it runs in and runs out, and leaves not a vestige behind. A second class resembles a sponge, which imbibe~ everything, and returns it in nearly the same state, only a little dirtier. A third class is like a jelly-bag, which allows all that is pure to pass away, arid retains only the refuse and dregs. The fourth class may be compared to the miner of Golconda, who, casting .aside all that is worthless, preserves only the pure gems." If we adopt the method of reading suggested above, surely we shall be mine-workers of Golconda, gathering gems and nuggets of spiritual wisdom to trad~ for heavenly riches. And at the end of each day's .treasure-harvest, should we not give thanks to God for the graces received while reading?) First on the list of spiritual reading books in the strict, sense is the 192 ATTEND TO READING Bible, the spiritual book par excellet~ce. St. Paul writes: "Every-thing in the Scriptures hasbeen divinely inspired, and has its uses: to instruct us, to expose our errors, to correct our faults, to educate us in holy living" (II Tim. 3:16). Do we appreciate the Old Tes-tament sufficiently, and do we read it? Of course, for the beginner a selection of Old Testament Books is advisable. Wisdom, Proverbs, Ecclesiasticus, Ecclesiastes, Tobias, ,lob, Ruth, Esther, Isaias, Psalms --these books contain a rich mine of gpiritual treasure. Gradually one can take on the other books also. A good point as we read is to link up the Old and New Testaments, to note, for example, the shadows and figures of the Old .Testament and their fulfillment and verification in the New. Religious are much better acquainted with the New Testament, especially the four Gospels, which must be gone over and over again to be really assimilated and loved. But have we read the Acts of the Apostles? Or the magfiificent letters of St. Paul?. Or the minor letters of the New Testament? Monsignor Ronald Knox's translation of the Holy Scriptures, whatever its deficiencies from the scholarly angle, has this great advantage that it is highly intelligible for the average reader. We recommend it, particularly for the books of the Old Testament and for the Epistles of St. Paul. An encouragement to read the Holy Scriptures for spiritual reading is the three hundred days' indulgence attached by Pope Leo XIII to at least a quarter hour of such reading. And Pope Benedict XV admonishes that "none can fail to see what profit and sweet tranquility must result in well-disposed souls from such devout reading of the Bible. Whoever comes to it in piety, faith, and humility, and with a determination to make progrez in it, will assuredly find therein and will eat the 'bread that comes down from heaven' (,lohn 6:50) . Our one desire for all the Church's children is that, being saturated with the Bible, they may arrive at the all-surpassing knowledge of desus Christ." (Encyclical Spiritus Paraclitus.) . The Apostolic Fathers are certain ecclesiastical writers of the end of the first century and the first half of the second. Although they are not divinely inspired as are the writers of Holy Scripture, they nevertheless portray vividly the mind and spirit of the early Chris-tians. Perhaps the best known among them are Clement, Ignatius, and Polycarp. Who has not been stirred by the fervent letters of Bishop Ignatius of Antioch on his way to Rome .and martyrdom? To the Romhn Christians, who may try to prevent him from dying for Christ, he writes to dissuade them from such action: "God's wheat 193 AUGUSTINE K~AA$ Reuiew [or Religious I am, and by the teeth of wild beasts I am to be ground that I may prove Christ's pure bread." Bishop Polycarp, about to be mar-tyred, replies to the proconsuI trying to make him apostatize: "For six and eighty years I have been serving Him, and He has done no wrong to me; how, then, dare I blaspheme my King.who has saved me!" Who has not thrilled to the heroic courage of these words? Another contemporary source of inspiring spiritual reading is the accounts of the early martyrs, such as Tarcisius, Cecilia, Perpetua and Felicity. And then there are the Fathers of the Church: Cyprian, Ambrose, Jerome, Augustine, Gregory, Athanasius, Basil, Chrysostom, and many others. Their works on martyrdom, virginity, prayer, the ascetical life, the priestly state, make excellent spiritual reading,' reading that has nourished the prayer of .contemplatives down the ages. Also the Fathers of the Desert, such as Antony the Hermit, and the early monastic founders, as Pachomius and Benedict, furnish reading material for advancement in the spiritual life. Pope Pius XII on several occasions has encouraged the reading of these early writers; especially of the first centuries. Since our troub-lous times are much like those of the first Christians, he points out that we need the virtues they especially" exemplified, and he calls attention to four principal ones: 1) an unshakeable confidence in victory, based on profound faith; 2) a serene and unlimited readi-ness for sacrifice and suffering: 3) Eucharistic fervor and recollection arising from the deep conviction of the social efficacy of Eucharistic thought on all forms of social life; 4) a striving after an ever closer and more enduring unity of spirit and of hierarchy. At present there are two series of English translations of these early writings being published: one by The Newman Press, West-minster, Maryland, the other by Cima Publishing Co., New York. Librarians of religious communities should choose from these collec-tions those volumes more suitable for spiritual reading. Com!ng down the centuries, what a cavalcade of spiritual masters passes in review! Bernard, Aquinas, Catherine of Siena, Bonaven-ture, ~i Kempis, Teresa of Avila, John of the Cross, Rodriguez, Francis de Sales, Lallemant, Alphonsus Liguori, Vincent de Paul, Paul of the Cross, and many more. Among the more recent writers we have Lehodey, Goodier, Faber, Newman, Hedley, Th~r~se of Lisieux, Meschler, Chautard, Marmion, and Leen, not to mention the living. Some years ago REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS printed a list of some hundred authors and their works, which may serve as a basis 194 ATTEND TO READING for a re~ding program of the spiritual masters. (Cf. I, 105; II, 117.) Another rich source of spiritual reading is the life of Christ, of Our Blessed Lady, and of St. ,Joseph. These are timeless books, to be read and reread. Then there are the numerous biographies of the saints, especially of those whom the Church has singled out to be the official patrons of various Catholic works, and of the Blessed, and of other holy persons, particularly of the founders of religious com-munities, so instructive, inspiring, and enticing to imitation. In the last twenty or thirty years hagiography has made real progress towards taking the saints from their fragile pious pedestals and, by putting.their feet on the ground, making them attractively real. | V Of course, amid such a wealth of reading material, one must wisely choose. Here are a few suggestions for religious that must not be followed too rigidly but always adapted to special circumstances: Choose those books that will give you the spirit of your own religious order oi congregation, whether active, contemplative, or mixed. These should be preferred tb all others, especially in the early years of the religious life, and they should be reread often. If your community has few or none, then read the books of an order or congregation which has. your identical rule, or has for its purpose one similar to your own. Other books, depicting and implementing other ways of religious life or other states of life than yours, can be read gradually as the years go on. Choose books suitable to your present position in your religious community. The reading of novices is not going to be the same. as that of older religious. Young religious should be directed in their reading by some one experienced in this matter. However, certain authors are recommended by the Holy See to all young religious: St. Bernard, St. Bonaventure, and Father Alphonsus Rodriguez. The latter's Practice of Perfection and Christian Virtues (3 vols. Loyola Press, Chicago) has the added advantage of furnishing a systematic general survey of almost the whole ascetical field--a valuable help at the beginning of one's religious life. Choose books adapted to the spiritual needs of the soul at the moment. This reading will vary according as one is ill, or in con-solation, or in desolation, or in temptation, or in great trials, or has been appointed superior, or removed from some cherished office or employment, and so forth. It will vary, too, according as one has made great or little progr.e.ss in the spiritual life. 195 AUGUSTINE KLAAS Make it a point to read at least one book in harmony with the liturgical year, for instance, something on the Passion during Lent. I~ is good occasionally to read a general survey of the whole of the spiritual life, such as that found in Tanquerey, Garrigou- Lagr~nge, Saudreau, or Parente. A more o~ less systematic reading of the older authors, especially the spiritual classics, should be done by mature religious, while at the same time not neglecting the better books among the moderns. Here a list of books, graded in the order of importance, is a big help. Many modern spiritual books are superficial and ephemeral, and can readily be passed over in favor of the spiritual masters. Mystical books should be read rarely by the young and then only under direction. Older religious of balanced judgment may read such books with profit, especially those of St. Teresa of Avila. With regard to private revelations and mystical phenomena not yet having received the approval that goes with the person's canonization, on~ should always maintain a prudent reserve. This is the Church's own attitude in these delicate matters. An inordinate attachment to ~eading about revelations and mystical phenomena is a sign of' spir-itual immaturity and can be harmful to one's spiritual life. 'Finally, religious should read regularly one or several magazines devoted to the spiritual and religious life, such as Cross and Crown, Life of the Spirit, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, Sponsa Regis, or others in foreign languages. These, besides articles suitable for spiritual reading, furnish careful information on spiritual books and pam-phlets, old and new. To conclude with a common objection: "I am too busy; I have no time for extra spiritual reading." Let St. Robert Bellarmine answer it. After asserting that there is always a margin of time left over in the daily schedule tha~ can "be spent on meditation or pious reading, with great fruit for one's soul," the holy Doctor goes on to say: "Seneca in one of his letters takes to task those who claim that time is all too short;and be proves that their complaint is unfounded, because they waste a great deal of time. If only they would use it, they should have plenty of time . Many are short of time because, not content with honest recreation, they squander their existence in dawdling, gadding about, gossiping, visiting, reading about trifles, and doing nothing useful." Perhaps St. Robert has something there! Book/?ev ews ST. TERESA OF JESUS. By Father Gabriel of St. Mary Magdalen, O.C.D. Translated from the Italian by a Benedictine of Stanbrook Abbey. Pp. xll-~ 123. The Newman Press, Westminster, Maryland, 1949. $2.00 In this book Fathe~ Gabriel does for St. Teresa what he did some time ago for St. John of the Cross (see this REVIEW, VI, p. 377) ; that is, in a series of five conferences he introduces us to the works and doctrine of the celebrated mystic whom he regards as the great founder of what he is pleased to call "the Teresian school." He makes an effort to present the principal points of that doctrine in an ordered and systematic synthesis, and to "determine what is her considered opinion on the more central problems of spirituality" (p. xi). The supremely important aim in the spiritual life is not contem- t plation, but cbarRy, and the perfection of it. .Being most magnani-mous herself and having been treated most liberally by God, St. Teresa conceives this perfection to be love brought to the highest possible peak of generosity. Nothing, absolutely nothing, is to be refused to the divine Lover. Whatever He may ask, in deed or sacri-fice or suffering, the soul is glad to render. In particular it is eager to do all that it can in the apostolic spirit and for the salvation of souls. This lofty perfection is possible to all Christians who have sufficient good will. It is the same as that most excellent form of union with God, that "true union" of conformity of will in love, which above all other forms Teresa herself always desired and sought. After considering the goal, perfect love, it was only natural that a Carmelite and especially a sublime mystic like St. Teresa should turn to "the contemplative ideal." Besides infused contemplation, "We must conclude that, evidently, Teresa also is aware of the exist-ence of an active contemplation," described in The Interior Castle, "Mansion VI," 7. "Such a contemplation will habitually be the prayer even of a soul already mystical, at such times as it is not favored by God with more special divine enlightening. In the illu-minative way the active, or acquired, contemplation will easily alter-nate with the infused. The matter is thus understood by the whole Teresian school" (p. 118). Her understanding of mystical contemplation is narrower and richer than that of some modern authors: it "is a state of prayer 197 BOOK REVIEWS Reoiew for Religious wherein the soul is experimentally aware of God's action within it" (p. 24). "Even in the lower degrees of infused contemplation the divine action within renders itself in some way perceptible to the consciousness; the soul feels moved, drawn, and from seeing how that motion which it suffers causes it to occupy itself wholly in lovingly gazing upon God, it judges: 'God is acting in me. I am very close to God' " (p. 82). In St. Teresa's outlook the contemplative ideal is of course most important. It is a great "short cut" to the higher degrees of charity and virtue. One ardently in love with God experiences a certain need of the peculiar intimacy and inspiration which contemplation brings. Hence it is in every way most desirable. However, it is not necessary, even for perfect holiness. "We cannot conclude that all generous souls must attai'n to such forms of contemplation ['prayer of quiet,' 'sleep of the powers,' 'union'], much less that they can be introduced into that way of contemplation which, through the series of infused forms of prayer, leads the soul to the spiritual marriage as it is described by St. Teresa and St. John of the Cross . So we may speak of a way that leads to holiness, even perfect holiness, without passing through mystical prayers, strictly speaking" (pp. 36, 37). "Synthesizing these teachings of its great Mistress, the Teresian School has distinguished a two-fold way of perfection: the common way and the mystical way, that is the way of contemplation. The common way knows nothing of infused forms of prayer of th~ characteristic type described by St. Teresa" (p. 43). As a matter of fact, God is most liberal with His gifts and is wont to grant infused prayer to those who exert themselves suffi-ciently. "If we are to interpret her thought faithfully, we must say that in the highest way of sanctity, followed by thoroughly generous souls, mystical prayer, although not ~ecessary, is yet ordinary. Such, also, is the traditional position taken up by the Teresian mystical school, formulated by the Teresian Congress of Madrid" (p. 37). After dealing with perfection and contemplation in the first two conferences, Father Gabriel devotes the remaining three to the preparation that St. Teresa advises for contemplation, to an account of the "Mansions" of The lnterior Castle, and finally to the place of the sacred humanity of Jesus in the spiritual system of Teresa of Jesus. Father Gabriel's book is a clear, brief, and highly inspiring intro-duction to the doctrine of St. Teresa. Moreover, it presents the understanding and interpretation of it which the leading authority 198 duly, 1950 BOOK REVIEWS now in Carmelite spirituality considers to be the true and just idea of it. Hence this work is a very valuable addition to our spiritual literature.--(3. AUGUSTINE ELLARD, S.J. STORM OF GLORY. By John Beevers. Pp. viii -f- 23 I. Sheed and Ward, New York, 19S0. $3.00. This short life of St. Th~r~se of Lisieux is written with a two-fold purpose: (1) to reveal St. Th~r~se as a person truly measuring up to the heroic love of God and the neighbor required of a saint, and a person altogether unlike the child-like and sweetly sentimental saint she is made to be in many books about her; and (2) to point out that St. Wh~r~se has a very special relation to our modern times. Read in connection with the Autobiography of St. Th~rbse, Storm of Glory/will give one a very complete picture of the saint. It fills in many details of her family life in early years as well as her life as a Carmelite, all of which help very much to understand St. Th~rbse, and in addition it tells a brief running story of her life enlivened with concrete incidents and eye-witness stories which show Th~r~se to have been truly heroic in a grown-up way in her love and service of God. The second aim of the book is developed in Part II. The author calls St. Th~r~se of Lisieux th~ greatest saint of modern times, prin-cipally because she has made sanctity seem not only attractive but truly possible to thi many, many little people of the world, who but for her would have thought of sanctity as too remote and mysterious andimpractical for such as they. This is true because her own life was so very ordinary--ordinary works, no extraordinary penances, and for the most part no extraordinary spiritual experiences, and also because of the Little Way of Spiritual Childhood which she teaches as a sure way to become a saint. Further, to the author, Th~r~se, with her conviction of her own littleness and her love of God in every detail of her life, stands in direct opposition to the modern worldly spirit with its pride in purely natural accomplishments and its bitter hatred as well of fellowmen ~s of God. Over the years I have found each fresh acquaintance with St. Thir~se of Lisieux to be spiritually inspiring. And that is what Storm of Glory offers to its readers--a good measure of spiritual inspiration.--A. REID, S.J. PURGATORY. By Martin A. dugle, A.A. Translated by Malachy G, Car-roll. Pp. 203. The Newman Press, Wesfmlnster, Maryland, 1949. $3.25. There are very few worthwhile books on Purgatory. This is one 199 Book REVIEWS Reuiew for Religious of them, one of the best. Unlike most, it is written primarily from the viewpoint of the living and stresses throughout the consoling aspect of Purgatory. In it, Father Martin 3ugie, a theologian of high repute, presents and explains the Catholic doctrine in simple, clear language, but with theological exactitude and above all with reserve, especially on the delicate subject of private revelations. In fact, his balanced evaluation and prudent use of private revelations are some of the outstanding features of the book. The location of Purgatory, its inhabitants, its kinds of punishment, its time-length, these and many other topics, some not found in other books, come up for care-ful treatment. The author devotes considerable space ~o the w.ays in which we can help these souls, by Masses, indulgences, prayers, and almsgiving. Finally, he tells bow to avoid Purgatory altogether, or at least shorten one's stay there, by using the multitudinous efficacious means placed by the Church at the disposal of Catholics. He might have developed more at length the theologically well-founded though not certain doctrine of the immediate entry into heJaven of those who receive the sacrament of extreme unction betimes a;ad with the proper disposi-tions. The translator has done a fair job, but he should have done more car,eful proof-reading, and he might have added a helpful index. We recommend the book highly to all and trust that it will match in English the seven editions it has already seen in French. It is a rare book, combining two things: exact information and quiet inspiration. --A. KLAAS, S.J. PSYCHIATRY AND ASCETICISM. By Felix D. Duffey, C.S.C. Pp. 132. B. Herder Book Co., S÷. Louis, Missouri. $2.00. This slender volume points out defects in the exercise of the sci-ence of psychiatry as it is practiced today and as it is popularly preached. From a consideration of some of the defects of the science, the author goes on to a treatment of certain ascetical principles and practices which are basic to a complete understanding of difficulties in man's mental life, principles and practices frequently overlooked or denied in psychiatric treatment. Perhaps the finest chapters in the book are the Psychology of Mental Prayer and the Psychology of Mortification. The present reviewer has a practical problem with this volume, however. Though the author repeats several times that he has no quarrel with psychiatry which stays within the confines of its sub- 200 duly,.1950 BOOK NOTICES ject matter, the overall tendency of the book seems to condemn the science as a whole. A Catholic psychiatrist would find little encour-agement in reading Psgcbiatry and Asceticism. There are many reputable Catholic psychia~;rists who are doing splendid work in their chosen field, and it is fervently hoped that their number will increase. It is true that Freud held a philoso.pby not consonant with our rule of faith, but a distinction must be made between the philo-sophy of the founder and the therapeutic processes and clinical obser-vations and conclusions of the science. By stressing some of the ideas this volume does, the ordinary layman would put little faith in psychiatry.mJ. J. CAMPBELL, S.J. [NOTE: The preceding reviews of Purgatory and of Psychiatry and Asceticism are published through the courtesy of Catholic Review Service, St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas.] BOOK NOTICES GOSPEL GE,MS, by Canon Paul Marc, contains twenty-four meditations on as many events recorded in the Gospels. The .book is recommended to anyone seeking an aid in making familiar contem-plations or meditations on the Gospel scenes. The prayerful perusal of its simple and inspiring treatment of these scenes will help the reader to acquire a deeper knowledge of Christ and to achieve a more intimate union with Him. (Frederick Pustet Co., New York and Cincinnati, 1950. Pp. 226. $3.00.) AN INTRODUCTION TO HOLINESS, by Henri Petitot, O.P., is a clear, well-balanced statement of the essentials for holiness. The book has three main parts (The Ascetic Life; The Active Life; and The Unitive Life) and a conclusion on The Mystical Body. In these various sections the author insists on the necessity of self-denial, humility, prayer, zeal, knowledge of Christian doctrine, union with God and neighbor through charity[ There is a good chapter on the value of Christian art for stimulating devotion; and the theme that the holiness of one member has profound effects on the Mystical Body is excellently developed. The treatise is intended for the fer-vent laity and for religious. Even among these, the author says, comparatively few attain to a superior state of holiness. But all would profit by the thoughtful reading of this book. Irritating minor tones are the frequent references to things French and the author's apparently unnecessary insistence on his "Thomistic" posi-tion. The translation from the French was made by Malachy Ger- 201 BOOK NOTICES Reuie~u for Reliqious ard Carroll. (Westminster, Maryland: The Newman Press, 1950. Pp. vii ÷ 176. $2.50.) COME CREATOR SPIRIT, by Rev. A. Biskupek, S.V.D., is a series of considerations centering chiefly around those two magnificent hymns to the Holy Ghost, Veni Creator Spiritus and Veni. Sancte Spiritus. Other chapters deal with the role of the Holy Ghost in the sacraments. The book concludes with comments on the Mass of the Holy Ghost and miscellaneous reflections. The treatment is devotional, simple, full of unction, and directed to the heart. This book might best do service to religious as a well-spring for their meditations~to increase their appreciation of and devotion to the forgotten Paraclete. (Techny, Ill.: Mission Press, 1950. Pp. $3.00.) TAKE THIS SCAPULAR contains the conferences given at the Carmelite Third Order's Second National Conference held in the spring of 1949. In the thirty-four chapters, each by a Carmelite Tertiary or a Tertiary Director, is told the story of Our Lady's Scapular, its origin and history, its use and efficacy in modern life. This book provides valuable source material for study, meditation, and preaching on the Scapular devotion. (Chicago: Carmelite Third Order Press, 1949. Pp. 270. $2.50.) Thomas Merton's latest book, WHAT ARE THESE WOUNDS?, is an interpretation of the contemplative life and mystical experi-ences of St. Lutgarde, a thirteenth-century Yrappistine. It is a com-panion book to his THE WATERS OF SILOE, and THE SEEDS OF CONTEMPLATION, and gives a concrete application of the principles of the contemplative life discussed in these two former books. Although the author is careful to explain that the miraculous is only accidental to the mystical life, it is to be regretted that much of the book is taken up with relating just such experiences. This biography of St. Lutgarde is, however, interesting and pleasant reading, since it does afford an insight into the innermost life of an outstanding con-templative and a lover of the Sacred Heart. (Milwaukee: The Bruce Publishing Company, 1950. Pp. xiv + 191. $2.50.) Among the many celebrated writings by St. Athanasius probably none was more influential, over a wider area and for a longer period, than his perennial "best seller," THE LIFE (~F ST. ANTHONY. Atha-nasius had known and esteemed th~ great monastic pioneer and pro-duced this Lit:e shortly after the death of Anthony. The account 202 dulv, 1950 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS literally set the style for Christian hagiography. And, what is vastly more important, it exerted enormous influence East and West in spreading the idea of that full-time pursui.t of Christian perfection that is now organized into religious life under rule and vow. After the Gospels, this Life is really Book One in monastic and conventual literature. The present edition is Number' 10 in the Ancient Chris-tian Writers series. The translator and editor is Robert T. Meyer. .Religious scholars will be grateful to him not only for the smooth translation but also for the annotations with which he interprets the text. (Westminster,Md.: The Newman Press, 1950. Pp. 154. $2.50.) Very noticeable in recent literature on religious vocations is the striving to be realistic, to show young men and women, by word pictures and photographs, just how the religious life is lived. WHAT MUST I Do? by Sister Mary Paul Reilly, O.S.B., is an example of how this purpose.may be accomplished by word pictures. She takes one girl and her companions through the postulancy, noviceship, first and final professions: and, by means of their varied experiences, she shows the girl reader just what she might expect in the religious life. (Milwaukee: The Bruce Publishing Company, 1950. Pp. 96. ¯ $1.60.) THE UNHOLY THREE, by Rev. Henry J. Romanowski, is a very readable treatise on ascetical theology for the laity. The "Unholy Three" are, obviously, the world, the flesh, and the devil. Father R0manowski covers the principal ways in which these enemies attack the soul, as well as the various ways of combatting them. This is his first book. May he publish many more. (Milwaukee: The Bruce Publishing Company, 1950. Pp. xiii ÷ 160. $2.75.) BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS [For the most part, these notices are purely descriptive, based on a cursory exam-ination of the books listed.] B. HERDER BOOK COMPANY, St. Louis, Missouri. Human Personalit~l. By H. C. E. Zacharias. Pp. viii q- 360. $4.00. Describes the way India and China "by their own unaided efforts caused human personality to emerge out of its stage of collec-tive anonymity," and how Israel was an instrument in the hands of God "who gave to human personality a supernatural sanction and an eternal value, unattainable by merely human endeavors." ,, 203 dul~,1950 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS The Nazarene. By Eugenio Zolli. Translated from thd orig-inal ItaIian by Cyril VolIert, S.3. Pp. 309. $5.00. A volume of exegesis for "Scripture students and others who are confronted with difficulty of explaining obscure passages in the Gospels." Revival of Paganism. By Gustave Combes. Translated by Rev. Augustine Stock, O.S.B. Pp. v + 360. $4.50. "This survey of recent trends, especially those fostered by government, toward the dechristianization of our civilization, focuses attention in particular on Russia, Germany, and France." The Message of Christ. By Adolf Donders. Translated by Rev. Rudolph Kraus. Pp. xi ÷ 477. $6.00. Includes 204 brief suggested sermons, based mostly on the life of Christ, for Sundays and principal feasts of the liturgical year. Should prove useful espe-cially to busy parish priests. THE LITURGICAL PRESS, Collegeville, Minnesota. Tbeoloqg of the Old Testament. By Dr. Paul Heinisch. Eng-lish edition by Rev. William Heidt. Pp. 386. $5.00. Although of special interest to teachers of religion and theology, this book will provide the less specialized reader also with a deeper understanding and fuller apppreciation of Old Testament teaching on the nature and attributes of God, the spirit world, creation, the nature of man, human acts, the Messiah. The treatment is both scholarly and com-prehensive and copiously documented with hundreds of Scriptural references. LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO., 55 Fifth Avenue, New York. St. Anne and the Gouty Rector and Other Plays. By Henri Gh~on ~ Henri Brochet. Pp. xx + 190. $2.50. Contains seven plays and useful production notes for each play. The plays included are: St. Anne and the Gouty Rector, The Sausage-Maker's Interl~de, Parade at Devil's Bridge by Henri Gh~on; Christmas at the Cross-roads, The Gardener Who Was Afraid of Death, The Man Who Died Because He Wore Gloves, St. Felix and His Potatoes by Henri Brocbet. NEWMAN PRESS, Westminster, Maryland. Facing Life, Meditations for Young Men. By Raoul Plus, S.J. Pp. xii + 12I. $1.50. Facing Life, Meditations for Young Women. By Raoul Plus, S.J. Pp. xiv + 158. $1.50. Two small books, reprints. Recommended highly for priests 204 July, 1950 FOR YOUR INFORMATION and religious who want to help young men and women meditate. The Sunday Introits and Graduals. By Reir. E. C. Messenger. Pp. 175. $2.75. The Sunday Collects. Pp. 123. $2.75. The Sunday Epistles. Pp. 182. $2.75. -.-The Sunday G'ospels. Pp. 171. $2.75. These four volumes contain simple explanations of the various parts of the Mass. Helpful for religious who .wish to meditate on these parts of the Mass; for priests who wish to explain the Mass; and for the laity who want a deeper understanding of parts of the Mass. Lioing with God. By Raoul Plus, S.J. Pp. xvi -1- 93. $1.50. Another reprint. Seeks to arouse in the reader a more fruitful realiza-tion of the tremendous significance of union with God through sanc-tifying grace. By Rev. E. C. Messenger. By Rev. E. C. Messenger. By Rev. E. C. Messenger. JOSEPH F. WAGNER, INC., 53 Park Place, New York. In Praise of Our.Lady. By Martin Dempsey. Pp. vi + 225. $2.75. A book of sermons concerning the principal feasts of Our Lady, including a special series for a Novena to Our Lady of Fatima. For Your nrrorma on Passlonist Champion Champion of Church and Pope is an attractive pamphlet sketch of St. Vincent Strambi, the recently canonized Passionist bishop. In his preface to the pamphlet Bishop James H. Griffiths says that "Vincent Strambi is a modern symbol of victory of the suffering Christ and His suffering Church over the force and the fear of the tyrannical state." In the text itself Father Aloysius McDon-ough, C.P., brings out not only the remarkable story of St. Vincent's early life (he was rector of a seminary before being ordained a priest) and of his great courage in the face of Napoleon's tyranny, but also the essential details of Passionist life. The publisher is the Sign Press, Union City, New Jersey. Father McDonough, the author, 205 FOR YOUR INFORMATION. conducts the "Sign-Post" in the Passionis~ magazine, The Sign, and is the author of God's Own Method, a book which offers a "design for living . . . drawn from the lessons taught by the crucified Re-deemer." (See REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, VII, 50-51.) Company o{ Mary A Slave of Jesus in Mary is a pamphlet life of Mother Mary Potter, Foundress of The Little Company of Mary, familiarly known as the "Blue Nuns." The institute began in the latter part of the last century; the foundress died in Rome in 1913; yet the Little Company's hospitals are now circling the globe. The author of this pamphlet is Father Marius McAuliffe, O.F.M. Our readers may obtain it for the asking by writing to The Little Company of Mary Hospital, 95th St. and California Ave., Evergreen Park 42, Ill. Servanfs of Mary Another nursing institute of recent origin is The Sisters, Servants of Mary, a society of trained nurses who care for the sick and infirm in their own homes. It too is fast extending its services to the whole world. Its provincial house for the United States is located at Kan-sas City, Kansas. The foundress, Mother Soledad Torres Acosta, was born in Madrid, Spain, in 1826, and died in the same city 1887. She was beatified on February 5, of this present Holy Year. L~ftle Off;¢e M~I Dail~t Otlice is a 6-p~ge folder on The Little Office of the Blessed Virgin. It contains a brief commentary on the Office and reflections on the psalms and canticles. The author is Ft. Jerome, O.F.M. He found in giving retreats to religious that they do not get lectures on the Little OtSce as often as they would wish; hence, he gave some talks and later abbreviated them into this folder. Copies may be ordered, or sample copies obtained, from Assisi Press, St. Francis, Broad Lane, Cork, Ireland. Price for U.S.A. and Canada: $3.00 for 100; $8.00 for 300; $12.00 for 500. I/arla The Poor Clare Nuns have a new monastery situated on a hill-side overlooking the Santa Clara Valley. The address is: The Immaculate Heart Monastery, Route 2, Box 873, Los Altos, California. "The Boy Saviour, My Model for Life," is the title of a new (Continued on page 224) 206 ( ues {ons and Answers nl8m We have heard, or read somewhere, that the water cruet used at Mass should always be filled to the brim? Is that correct; and, if so, why should this be so? At the Offertory the celebrant is supposed to mix a very slight quantity of .water with the wine in the chalice. The quantity should be relatively slight: that is, slight with reference to the amount of wine that he takes. Yet, even priests who use a comparatively large quantity of wine usually try to limit themselves to only a few drops of water. The cruet should be filled in such a way that the priest can accomplish this without spilling the water. Generally speaking, it is very difficult for the priest to take only a few drops if only the bottom part of the cruet is filled, for in this case the water tends to gush out. For this reason, the stoppers so often used in water cruets are a nuisance. On the other hand, when cruets are filled right to the brim, it is often difficult to pour the water without spilling it. The safest way to fill the water cruet, therefore, seems to be almost to the brim. We might add, however, that cruets differ--and so do priests. Sacristans would do well to ask the priest how he wants the cruets filled. And if there is no opportunity to do this, the sacristan might experiment a bit until he (or she) knows just how much to fill the cruet to allow for the pouring of only a few drops without spilling or gushing. In some places Erlenmeyer flasks are used as cruets because it is so easy to control the flow of liquid from them. ml9m What is meant by a "perplexed" conscience? Is it the same thing as scrupulosity? By a "perplexed" conscience theologians mean a state of mind in which a person thinks he would commit a sin no matter what he does. For instance, suppose a mother thinks she would sin by going to Mass and neglecting a sick child, and would also sin by staying with the child and omitting Mass. She has to do one thing or the other--go to Mass or not go to Mass. Hence, according to her "conscience" she would sin no matter what she would do. Another example is suggested by this problem in Moral Guidance (p. 309), by Edwin F. Healy, S.J.: "What should a surgeon do in an 207 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS emergency case where in his opinion he will probably be doing wrong if he operates and probably be doing wrong if he does not operate? He must do one or the other at once." The "perplexed" conscience does not necessarily indicate scrupu-losity. Even one who normally has no difficulty making decisions for himself might occasionally face a situation so puzzling ~that it seems to involve sin no matter what he does. However, a scrupulous person is certainly more apt to experience this difficulty than are those who are not scrupulous. Since we have mentioned the "perplexed" conscience, it may be well to add here the correct principles of conduct in such an emergency. Theologians give three rules to cover the various possi-bilities : 1) Get advice, if this is possible, and thus do away with the perplexity. --For instance, the mother mentioned above might ask the priest or some prudent friend what she should do. 2) If advice or some similar help is unavailable, do what seems to be the less evil. --For instan6e, the s.urgeon mentioned in Father He.aly's problem has to act in an emergency and may have no oppor-tunity to consult persons or books. In that case he should try to estimate whether operating or not operating would be the less of the two apparent evils and then act accordingly. 3) If one cannot decide which would be the less evil, he may follow either course of action without sin. ---The reason for this last rule is that a person who judges that he will sin equally by acting and by not acting no longer has the freedom necessary for actually committing a sin. The ability to sin presupposes the ability to choose between two things, one of which is sinful, the other not sinful. 2O Is it true that the Holy See has condemned the practice of cjivincj several small Hosts to one communicant.'/ A decree of Pope Innocent XI condemned the practice of giving several small Hosts to one communicant. The reason for this prohibition was that the practice, as existing at the time of the con-demnation, was based on a spirit of false devotion. When there is no question of fostering a false devotion, a priest may give several Hosts to the same communicant: for example, when there is need of emptying a ciborium. 208 Reporl: I:o Rome I We c:ntinue hcre the publishing of the List oI Questions to be answered in the quinquennial report by pontifical institutes. For full explanation see our dan-uary, 1950, number, page 52. We encourage all to read these questions thought-fully, as they furnish an excellen~ survey of the Church's law concerning religious. The eighty-six questions published in our 3anuary, March, and May numbers contain the first three articles of Chapter I, "The Institute and Its Government." The questions are published exactly as they appear in the official English trans-lation. Questions marked with an asterisk (*) concern only institutes of men; those marked with a cross (t) refer only to institutes of women.--ED.] ARTICLE IV Concernin9 the financ;al 9overnmenf of the Institute § 1. - CONCERNING THE ACQUISITION AND LOSS OF PROPERTY Concerning the acquisition and registration of propert~ 87. a) What if any immovable property or precious movable property was acquired by the Institute, Provinces and houses; what was the value of these acquisitions. b) Was the aforesaid property acquired by gift or other gratui-tous title, or by purchase, and ~n this latter case was it with the funds of the Institute, Province or house, or with borrowed money. 88. Has the Institute, the Province and each house an inventory of its movable property, especially of that which is classed as precious (by reason of workmanship, history or material) (c. 1522 2°) and of its immovable property. 89. When must these invehtories be revised, and are they in fact revised. 90. In cases where works which are not the property of the house, such as clerical or religious residence-halls, hospitals, churches, etc., are entrusted to the religious houses, are these properties kept clearly distinct from those which belong to the religious house itself. 91. By what method or in~ whose name before the civil law is the religious property registered; and can this registration be regarded as safe in civil law. 92. What forms of registration have been adopted as the more s~cure in various localities. 93. If societies have been established for this purpose, was every-thing done in accordance with the civil law and is everything actually being kept in good order. 94. As regards the aforesaid societies: 209 REPORT TO ROME Review for Religious a) Were all persons to whom the administration or manage-ment of property is entrusted, chosen with due care, after making all the previous investigations which were necessary or useful. b) Were the members of the Institute itself given the preference over outsiders for oflqces of administration, whenever this could pru-dently be done without loss. c) What safeguards were used against dangers arising from abuses of administration. d) Is a constant vigilance conscientiously exercised according to law, through the checking of accounts and through ordinary and other extraordinary and timely inspections of safety deposits and other properties. Concerning expenses 95. Were extraordinary expenses paid from ordinary or extra-ordinary income proper, or on the contrary with borrowed funds. Concerning contributions 96. Did the individual houses and other units subject to the Provinces contribute toward meeting the expenses of the Provinces. 97. Did the Provinces and equivalent units and the houses which are immediately under the Supe.rior General contribute to the com-mon necessities of the Institute. 98. By what authority (Chapter, Council, General or Provincial Superior), on what principles and in what proportion are the contri-butions'to the general and provincial funds determined. 99. Were these contributions paid willingly or more or less under pressure. I00. Are the Provinces and houses allowed to retain whatever is prudently foreseen to be necessary or very appropriate for their own life and growth, in view of the good of souls and the welfare of the Institute. Concerning the alienation and diminution of property 101. What capital property, whether immovable, or stable (i. e. consisting of capital funds) or precious, was alienated, and by what authority, 102. In the alienation of property, were the provisions of law (cc. 534, 1531), especially regarding the previous appraisal by experts, and the norms of the Constitutions, observed. 103. Did the Institute, Provinces and houses consume any stable or founded property or capital funds; for what reasons and by what 210 July, 19~O authority. 104. Are the general, making serious efforts to red 105. What properties o suffered loss; and what wer! REPORT TO ROME rovincial and local Superiors and Bursars over this property. the Institute, Provinces and houses have the reasons. gilance of Superiors and their Councils ~d 'Bursars (c. 516 §§ 2, 3, 4) according Constitutions: ute. 'ovinces and other similar units. muses and works. 111. Does the Superior §3). 112. Do the Councils exercise vigilance in regard also as Bursars (c. 516 § 1 Concerning 113. How many times cils must the Bursars and o their administration. 114. Was a clear and in any case act also as Bursar (c. 516 ~ave their part in the administration and lit, even when the Superiors are acting how do they do this. rhe rendering of accounts a year and to what Superiors and Coun-her Administrators render an account of :omplete rendering of account demanded 21"1 under the direction and vi (cc. 516 § 2, 532 § I), 110. Are there designat to the common law and thl a) For the entire Insti~ b) For the different P: c) For the individual Concernirig debts and obligations 106. a) What debts w~re contracted, and by whom. b) What debts are ac~ua!ly outstanding. 107. In contracting debts and obligations, were the following faithfully observed : a) The provisions of c. 534. b) The precautions mI e.ntioned in c. 536 § 5. c) The norms of the Constitutions regarding permissions, the consent of the Council, etc. | 108. Was the interest ~n debts and obligations faithfully paid, and is diligent care taken t,oward the gradual payment of a debt or the amortization of the capital~ (c. 536 § 5). § 2. - CONCERNING THE[CONSERVATION AND ADMINISTRATION ~F PROPERTY 109. Is the administra~tion of property conducted, not arbi-trarily, but according to the common law and the Constitutions, REPORT TO ROME Reoiet~ for Religious of all and each of the Bursars and Administrators during the five-year period. 115. Were there presented together with the accounts the docu-ments showing the .expenditures and receipts. 116. Was there regularly an inspection and checking of the safe. 117. Are the necessary directions given to the Bursars and Administrators; if so how is this done, and what sanctions are imposed in case of necessity. 118. Have Superiors, Bursars or Administrators, or any other religious, any money or property which they can freely use without giving a regular account of it, even though it belong to the Institute, Province or house. Concerning the intpestment of money and changes of inuestment 119. Did Superiors, Councils and Administrators lawfully, safely and profitably invest (c. 533) the money which was to be invested according to law and the will of benefactors, observing the rules of law and the Constitutions. 120. Did Superiors, Bursars and Administrators make temporary investments of surplus funds which were not required for ordinary expenses, so that they should not lie idle but might draw a reasonable interest. Concerning the consert~ation of property 121. Are money, securities, contracts, precious articles carefully conserved, observing exactly the common norms and the provisions of the Constitutions. 122. On what terms, if ever: a) Were money or precious articles received from outsiders on deposit. b) Or conversely were such deposits made with outsiders by Superiors, Bursars, Administrators or private religious. 123. Do Superiors, Bursars, Administrators conscientiously strive that all the properly of the Institute, Province and house be religiously conserved and providently administered (c. 532 § 1). Concerning foundations, pious causes, etc. 124. What legacies and pious foundations were accepted. 125. In accepting pious foundations and legacies, were the rules of law (c. 1544, ss.) and of the Constitutions observed. 126. Was the money of foundations and pious causes, according to law and with the consent of the local Ordinary when that was 212 July, 19519 REPORT TO ROME required, invested (cc. 533 §§ 1, 2, 1547) and separately and faith-fully administered (cc. 535 § 3, 2°, 1546, 1549). 127. Were the obligations attached to foundations faithfully and conscientiously fulfilled (cc. 1514, 1549 § 2). 128. Did Visitors demand documentary proof of their fulfilment and an account of the administration of the property. Concerning business and trade, etc. 129. Did any religious, Superiors or subjects, personally or through others, engage in illicit business, that is, business not per-mitted to religious, in violation of cc. 142, 592. 130. In cases where for just reasons the permission of the Holy See. was obtained for engaging in business (give the date and Proto-col number), was every semblance, not alone of fraud but also of avarice, diligently avoided. 131. What precautions were taken that religious who are occu-pied in business dealings may not suffer spiritual harm. 132. Whether Superiors and Councils were attentively watchful that, according to c. 1539 § 2, in the administrative exchange of securities payable to bearer, all appearance of commerce or trading be avoided. Concerning actions or affairs which int)oloe tfnancial responsibility 133. How did Superiors exercise vigilance over the actions and dealings of their subjects from which there might arise according to law a financial responsibility on the part of the Institute or of the Province or house (c. 536 § 2) or of the individual religious (c. 536 §3). 134. Did Superiors clearly and effectively, according as the cir-cumstances required, take prompt action to clear the Institute, Prov-ince and house of all responsibility for actions and dealings done by individual religious without observing the norms of the common or particular law. 135. Do Superiors see to it that, in all matters which concern finances, or in those generally which could give occasion to litigation in the canonical or civil courts, everything be done exactly according to law, on the basis of previous written contracts and with the guar-antee of perfectly valid signed agreements, etc. (e, 1529). 136. Have any law suits or losses resulted from failure to observe the prescribed formalities of civil law according to n. 135. 213 REPORT TO ROME Review for Religious 137. !-!ave Superiors and Bursars diligently seen to it that extern workmen and all persons who work for the Institute, Province or house receive at the agreed time a just and fair compensation accord-ing to law (c. 1524), and that the provisions of law regarding the contract of hire and other matters be faithfully observed. 138. What provision is made for the spiritual welfare of those who work in the house, especially if they also reside there. CHAPTER II CONCERNING THE RELIGIOUS AND THE RELIGIOUS LIFE AND DISCIPLINE Concerning the diversity of classes ~ The vows of each class 139. What are the different classes, if any, among the members of the Institute; does harmony exist among the different classes and is f~aternaI charity observed among them. 140. Besides the persons who belong to the Institute or Society as members, by religious profession or lawful incorporation, are there others who are dedicated or given to it, or the like, without being members. 141. Is provision made in fairness and charity for the spiritual life of these persons and also for their material security. 142. Are there any legitimately approved,statutes for them. ARTICLE I Concerning ÷he admission, formation and profession or incorporation of members Concerning the postulantsbip in the wide sense (Apostolic Schools) 143. Are there in the Institute any aspirantships or postu.lant-ships in the wide sense: apostolic schools, etc. 144. For how long a time does the instruction and education in these places last. 145. In these apostolic schools and similar houses and in the residence-halls, are the students of tender age habitually kept separate from the older ones. Concerning the postulantship in the canonical or strict sense 146. Are the postulantships pro.perly conducted according to law in the houses of noviceship (c. 540 § 1), or in houses where perfect religious observance exists (c. 540). 147. Was the time assigned by the common law (c. 539) or by 214 Julg, 1950 " REPORT TO ROME the Constitutions for the postulantship abbreviated or prolonged; if so, for how long a time and by what authority. Concerning the admission of aspirants 148. What means are used to arouse and attract vocations. 149. Are there also advertisements inserted in public bulletins and papers. If so, in what bulletins or papers did they appear. 150. Taking into account the different circumstances of various localities, what causes are regarded as having an influence on the increase or diminution of vocations. 151. Wha~t are the obstacles which aspirants most frequendy have to overcome in order to follow their vocation. Concerning documents, testimonials and informations 152. Were the documents required by the common law (c. 544) and by the Constitutions demanded before admission in the case of each aspirant. 153. At least before entrance into the novitiate, were the fol-lowing testimonial letters demanded and obtained: a*) The common testimonial letters which are to be given by the local Ordinaries and are.prescribed for all (c. 544 § 2). b) The special testimonial letters which are to be given under oath by the Rector or Major Superior for those who have been in a Seminary or a residence-hall which is equivalent to an ecclesiastical one, or in a postulantship or novitiate of a religious Institute (c. 544 §3). c) Likewise the testimonial letters which are required in the case of clerics and professed religious (c. 544 §§ 4, 5). 154. Besides the documents and testimonials which are specially prescribed by law or by the Constitutions, were further informa-l~ ions, which it seemed necessary or useful to know in order to judge with certainty of the vocation and fitness of the aspirants, diligently sought (c. 544 § 6). Concerning impediments and admissfon 155. From what impediments or defects, if any, which are imposed by the common or particular law, was a dispensation granted; how often and by what authority was this done. 156. Were the admissions of aspirants always done by the com-petent Superiors, observing the rules of law (c. 543). Concerning the nouiceship~The house 157. Was every novitiate house erected or transferred after 215 ~EPORT TO ~OME Review [or Religious obtaining in advance the permission of the Holy See (c. 554 §§ 1, 2). 158. Does perfect religious observance flourish in the novitiate houses. 159. Did Superiors'assign to them or permit to remain in them religious who are hot exemplary in their zeal for religious observance (c. 55¢ § 3). Concerning the beginning of the novicesbip 160. Did all fulfill the prescribed days of spiritual exercises before entering the noyiceship (c. 541)~ 161. Were the rite and the rules prescribed for admission to the noviceship faithfully observed (c. 553). Concerning board and expenses for the postulantsfiip and nouicesbip 162. Is the right of the Institute to demand payment for the expenses of the religious habit and board during the postulantship and noviceship, given in the Constitutions or customarily recognized by express agreement. 163. Who determines the amount to be paid. 164. Was there any instance of the grave abuse of dela.ying the profession because the expenses of the postulantship or noviceshlp had not been paid. Concerning the giscipline of the novicesbip 165. Did all the novices and each of them from the beginning of the noviceship have a complete copy of the Constitutions. 166. Are the novices, according to law and the Constitutions, kept separate from the professed, and is any undue communication between them tolerated (c. 564 §§ 1, 2). 167. Did all and each of the novices before their profession per-form the canonical year of noviceship complete and continuous, without counting the first day, in a house of noviceship lawfully erected, under the care and direction of a Master (cc. 555 § 1, 556, 557). 168. Was the noviceship extended or shortened beyond the limits fixed by law (c. 571 § 2) and the Constitutions; if so, for how long a time and by what authority was this done. Concerning the government of the noviceship 169. Was there always in every novitiate a Master of novices 216 dul~l, 1950 REPORT TO ROME duly appointed or elected (c. 560). 170. Have the novice Master and his Socius all the qualifications and all the requisites prescribed by the common law (c. 559 §§ 1, 2) and the Constitutions, or did dispensations have to be asked for and obtained. 171. Are the Master and Socius free from all offices and minis-tries in or out of the house, which might interfere with their care and government of the novices (c. 559 § 3). 172. Do the Masters of novices, according to law (c. 561) and the Constitutions, under the vigilance and direction of Superiors and Visitors, have full possession of their proper authority and use it for the government and training of the novices. 173. Do all the Masters fulfill their office properly (c. 562) and remain constantly in the novitiate house. 174. Do the Master of novices and his Socius abstain from hearing sacramental confessions unless the penitents of their own accord ask them to do so according to c. 891. Concerning the spiritual training of the nooices 175. Were the novices, under the guidance of the Master, during the first or canonical year of the noviceship, engaged exclusively according to law (c. 565 §§ 1, 2) in exercises of piety and other exercises proper to novices; or on the contrary were they assigned to hearing confessions, preaching and external works or ministries; or " did they apply themselves expressly to the study of literature, sci-ence or humanities (c. 565 § 3) beyond the limited measure in which this has been approved by the Sacred Congregation. 176. During the second year of noviceship or during .the time which is over and above the canonical year, were the norms which were given in the Instruction of the Sacred Congregation of Religious (2 Nov. 1921 ) observed : a) Regarding the manner of exercising the external ministries of the Institute (nn. I, II). b) Regarding the conditions under which alone the novices may be sent outside the novitiate house (III). c) Regarding the two months' preparation for the profession (IV). Concerning the documents to be drawn up before the profession 177. Did all the novices, according to c. 569 § I, before the first 217 REPORT TO ROME Review [or Religious profession of simple vows, freely cede the administration and ~itber cede or dispose of the use and usufruct of their property. 178. In case the aforesaid cession and disposition was not duly made before the profession, or in case new property was acquired thereafter, was it made or completed after the profession (c. 569 § 2). 179. Were any changes of the aforesaid cession and disposition after the profession, made always in accordance with ¢. 580 § 3. 180. a) Did the novices of the Congregation, before their first profession of temporary vows, freely make a will in due form, valid according to the civil law, regarding their present or future property (c. 569 § 3). b) Did they afterward render this will valid according to the civil law (c. 569 § 3). 181. Were any changes which may have been made in this will after profession, made according to c. 583 2°. 182. Are the aforesaid documents a), b) faithfully kept in the Archives. Concerning admission to profession and the act of profession 183. Do the General Superior and General Council carefully and constantly keep a severe watchfulness as regards admissions; have they issued any special norms in this matter. 184. Does there seem to be in any Province too great facility regarding admissions, and have the prescribed norms and sound cri-teria been faitbfhlly observed. 185. Has the first profession, after eight full days of spiritual exercises, always been made validly and licitly according to law and the Constitutions (cc. 572, 573, 575) in the novitiate house itself (c. 574 § 1). 186. Was the prescribed rite observed in making the profession, and was the document attesting it duly drawn up (c. 576). Concerning the canonical examination 187L Did the Major Superioresses, or others acting in their name, two months before admission to the noviceship, to the first temporary profession and to perpetual profession, give timely notice to the local Ordinary (c. 552 § 1), so that he or his Delegate mlght gratuitously conduct the canonical examination regarding the free and conscious will of the postulant or candidate (c. 552 § 2). 188t. Was the prescribed examination always made. 218 July, 1950 REPORT TO ROME Concerning the dowry--The obligation and delivery of the dou)rg 1891". According to the Constitutions, is the dowry obligatory in the Congregation, or is it left entirely or partly optional (c. 547 §3). 1901". Was the delivery of the dowry made according to law (c. 547 § 2) and the Constitutions. Concerning the investment, conseroation, administration and return of the dou)rg 1911". Were the dowries, immediately after the first profession, always invested by the Major Superioress, with the deliberative vote of her Council and the consent of the Ordinary of the place where the capital of the dowries is kept (c. 549). 1921". Were the dowries spent or encumbered in any way b~fore the death of the religious concerned; if so, by what authority was this done. Were the dowries so spent or encumbered, even though it were done after obtaining lawful permission, afterward restored or cleared of the encumbrance; what is their condition at the present time (c. 549). 1931. Where and how are the dowries administered. Are the rules of law faithfully observed regarding their administration (cc. 550, 535 § 2). 1941. Is all property which is brought in as dowry, even though it be in excess of the sum required for a dowry in the Constitutions, or even though there be in the Congregation no obligation to bring in a dowry, accepted, invested, administered, etc. with the observance of the norms which govern dowries. 195t. In case of the departure of a professed religious, for what-ever cause it occurred, and in case of transfer, were the dowry and likewise the persona.l belongings which the novice brought with her at her entrance, in the condition in which they were when she left, restored to the religious departing or transferring, without the income which had already accrued (cc. 551, 570 § 2). 1961". Is this done also with property freely contributed for increasing the dowry even beyond the sum required by the Consti-tutions. 1971". In case of the departure of a professed religious who had been received without a dowry or with an insufficient one, if she was unable to provide for herself out of her own property, did the Insti-tute out of charity, according to law (c. 643 § 2), give her Whatever 219 REPORT TO ROME Reoieu; [or Religious was needed that she might safely and decently return home and be decently supp.orted for'a time. Concerning the profession and the renewal of profession 198. What if any dispensations were necessary for the pro-nouncement of the vows. 199. How many and what sanations were afterward necessary. 200. Were the temporary vows which are prescribed by law and by the Constitutions (c. 574 § 1), when the time for which they were taken had elapsed (c. 577 § 1), always renewed according to law (c. 577 § 2), so that no one ever remained without vows. 201. How often was the temporary profession extended beyond the six-year period allowed by law, and by what authority was this done (c. 574 § 2). 202. Conversely, how of

Issue 8.5 of the Review for Religious, 1949. ; .-~ - -SEPTEMBER P~qcjress ~hroucjh Thankscji~.in~ d~m onsecrat=on to ar . -. -. . ,~ Robe~Li opp _ Books as SpirituDairl~ cfors_ . J.H. Dunn R i::VI i::W -!:::0 R I::: E I G IO US VOLUME VIII . SEPTEMBER, 1949. NUMBER CONTENTS SPIRITUAL PROGRESS THROUGH, ACTIVE THANKSGIVING -" Ciarence McAuliffe.'S.3 . " . . : 225, REPORT TO ROME--Adam C. Ellis. S.d~ . VOCATIONAL LITERATU"'~ ~R -E .~.,". . -: . ! 240 ADM~ISSION OF ORIENTALS INTO LATIN INSTITUTES " " doseph ~.~Gallen, S.d. ; . 241 ~O,TAL CONSECRATION TO MARY BY ~OW-- Robert L/. Knopp. S.M . ~ 254 BOOKS AS SPIRITUAL DII~.ECTORS--d. COMI~IUN I C A T I O N S " ~\ . ~., . ¯ . 268 QUESTIONS ANb ANSWERS-- 35. "Toties quoties" Indulgence in Convent Chapel . '~ . 270 36. Recdption and Profession on Same Caldndar Day ,. ." . . 2-71 ~-37. Safeguarding Secrecy of, Elections . ~ . * . -. .~ 271 "38.Changes in.Prayers and "Legal Articles" of Consutut~ons . "~. . 272 39. Right to Say Funeral Mass of Sister . ~BOOK ~ 'REVIEWS-- The Little Office of the 'Blessed Virgin: The Veil. Upon the Heart: ;., De La Safle. a Pi6neer of Modern Education' . BOOK NOTICES . : ¯ . ~'. . 277 'BOOK ANNOUNCE~MENTS .¯.' . ~ . 278 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, September, 194'9, Vol.' VIII, No. 5. P.ublished bi-monthly : 3~nuary. March, May, July, September, and No,cember at ~thd College PresL 606 Harrison Street, Topekdi, Kansas. by St. Mary'sCotle.ge, St.-Marys0 Kansas," wi.th,ecclesiastical approbation.~ Entered as second ~:lass matter danu~.ry 15, 1942. at the Post Office, Topeka, Kansas. under theact of March'3"~1879. " ~Editorial Board: Adam C.°E!I~is._S.J. G. Augustine Ellard. S.d. Gerald Kelly. S.J. Editorial Secretary: A~fred F. Schneider, S.d, CoPyright, 1949, by Adam C. Ellis. Permission ii~hereby granted40~ quota~io~ns of reasonable-length/ provided due credit be given~ this review': and the author. Si~bs,cription price: 2 dollars a y~ear~ ~ : Printed in U. $~ A. Before wrltincJ to us, please consult notice on 'inside b~ck cover . Spiri :ual Progress Through Active Thanksgiving ~ Clarence McAuliffe, S.J. THAT a spirit of thanksgiving is one of. the basic threads in the '| fabric of Christian virtues is clear.'from various theological sources, but especially from the let!;~rs of St. Paul. In thirty-five different ~exts the Apostle of the Gen files either expresses thanks to God for persohal favors received or urg, for benefits to themselves. He asks the "What hast thou that thou hast not re received, why dost thou glory as if thou admonishes the Colossians (Col. 3:15.) : rejoice in your hearts, wherein also you "be ye thankful." To the Ephesians he tion (Eph. 5:20): "Giving thanks ah name of our Lord ,Iesus Christ, to God th ~'s his readers to thank God '.orinthians (I Cor. 4:7) : rived? And if thou hast hadst not received?" He iAnd let the peace of Christ e called in one body: and aakes a sweeping exhorta-ays for all things, in the Father." Undoubtedly priests and religious do harbor in their souls an abiding spirit of gratitude to God. Moreover, they do not allow this virtue to remain in a purely passive condition, since they are ca'lied upon to exercise it every day. They make a thanksgiving after Holy Communion; another, after meals. They begin their examinations of conscience with an act of thanks. At every Mass they express their gra'titude to God, since gratitude is one of the four purposes that are infallibly achieved by every unbloody immolation of the Savior. Granted, then, that religious and priests d,o make certain acts of thanksgiving, even though they may be dulled by that common ene-my routine, it would, nevertheless, be conducive to spiritual advance-ment if those consecrated to God were more actively thankful. A few considerations may show why this is true and provide inspira-tion for its accomplishment. Even natural gratitude is a winning virtue, and we find its exer-cise praised and inculcated even bY pagans. Mothers are rare who do not, instruct their children to say "Thank you." How.ever, the gratitude with which we are concerned is supernatural. It is based on faith; it is activated by co-operation with actual grace, and it merits an eternal supernatural reward if the conditions for merit are veri-fied. But it-~does not conflict with natural gratitude. In fact, its 225 CLARENCE MCAULIFFE Reoiew for Religious psychological effects and its outward manifestations will be very much the same, and this truth should be borne in mind. Yet it is radically and intrinsically superior to natural gratitude because it can be obtained and exercised only by God's helping hand, and it leads to a reward far transcending the natural capacities of man. The thanksgiving of which we speak, therefore, is a super-natural virtue that inclines us to acknowledge and recompense the gifts that come to us from God or from another person under God. The virtue becomes alive when we say prayers or perform acts. that are motivated by the virtue. It is true, of course, that this virtue is not as lofty in dignity as the virtue of perfect love of God. Since, however, .it is easier for the average religious to act from a spirit of thanksgiving than from perfect love, and since the exercise of thanks-giving is an open door to perfect love, this virtue is worth culti-vating for its own sake. By making acts of thanksgiving to God, we practice a form of the more general virtue of religion. When we make such acts to parents or other superiors under God, we exercise one species of the virtue of piety. If we render thanks to our equals, we exercise one aspect of the virtue of justice. It is worth remem-bering that when we give thanks to superiors or equals for their favors, we can nevertheless exercise the supernatural virtue of grati-tude. ¯ We thank God by thanking them because we know by faith that they themselves are gifts of God to us. In order to realize more vividly how the exercise of supernatural gratitude can promote spiritual progress, it might be well to rdflect briefly on the energizing effects of merely natural gratitude. Suppose we recall some definite occasion in the past when we were briskly stirred by the emotion of thanksgiving. At one time or another we may have been thoroughly mean and .cross-grained "towards someone who had a full right to our love. : If that person was a parent.or teacher or superior, he might have rightfully punished us for our meanness. But he did not. He passed it over, never mentioned it, treated us as though we had done nothing wrong. Gratitudh surged up spontaneously in our souls." Or we might remind ourselves of that occasion when death visited our home and we were consoled by the visits and condolences of so many people. We were stirred by an active gratitude to them." Or, if we have not had such experi-ences, we might remember any other: the time that the doctor or a neighbor, at great personal inconvenience, lent us assistance when we needed it badly; some occasion.such as Christmas or graduation, 226 8epternber, I ~4~ PROGRESS THROUGH THANKSGIVING when parents and friends showered us with gifts. All of us have had these or other experiences in our lives when our natural gratitude was stimulated to a high peak of activity. Having recalled some such occasion from the past, we need not make any profound study of psychology to recall also the natural concomitants of that active spirit of thanksgiving. In the first place. we certainly looed our benefactor or benefactors. They had been good to us, and we by a praiseworthy natural reaction wished good to them. We resolved never to forget their kindness. We would be loyal to them and they would be the objects of our praise, never ot~ our blame. Secondly, the gratitude we felt prompted us to refrain from criticism not only of our benefactors, but of others als0. It even prompted us to disregard various circumstances that chafed us in one way or another. It made us satisfied with our lot. Thirdly, ,are were conscious of a spirit of humility. We realized that we had been treated far better than we deserved, and this realization put us in proper focus towards God and all men. Fourthly, we found that our active gratitude enkindled a special reverence towards our bene-factors. Fifthly, we were drawn out of ourselves and were inspired to do,good to others, even to those to whom we were in no way obligated. Finally, we recall that. on these occasions of animated thanksgiving our,souls expanded with joy. The whole world took on a different hue, and our hearts beat faster. A mere superficial glance at the psychological effects of a living thanksgiving reveals the truth of all this, and, be it remarked again, the manifestations of supernatural gratitude will be substantially the same as those of the natural virtue. .If, then, at diverse times in our lives we were so thankful for single gifts bestowed upon us by mere human benefactors, what should be the extent of our active gratitude to God? The degree of gratitude due a donor is measured partially by the number and kind of gifts received. And is it not a fact that we owe every single thing we have or ever will have to the munificence of Almighty God? In the purely natural sphere, my very presence in this world as a living person, drawn from the chasm of utter nothingness, is the result of God's generosity. It is the sustaining hand of God that keeps my soul and body united at every instant. I oannot even take a breath or blink an eye without His help. Every talent of my soul, every power of my body is a present with God's name written on it. My friends, my country, all the circumstances of my past, present, 227 CLARENCE MCAULIFFE Reoiew /'or Religious and future life are so many tokens of God's liberality. Even the physical and mental sufferings that come to me are His benefits and will redound to my good if I use them properly. Moral perversity is the only (hing that I can claim as my own. All this we know by our faith; we know it even by reason; but it has a hard time holding its footing on the slippery foreground of our consciousness. Moreover, these natural gifts are mere shadows when compared with the supernatural favors God has bestowed upon us. Our Catholic faith, our priestly or religious vocations are the result of God's thoughtfulness and labor. We have but a misty notion of sanctifying grace, but we know that it is in some ineffable manner a sharing in God's own nature. Besides, not an hour of the day goes by but God manifests His personal concern for each of us by enlight-ening our minds and fortifying our wills with His actual graces. Again, the sacraments are so many rivers flowing down from the cross on Calvary to irrigate the world with both sanctifying and actual graces. Indulgences, sacramentals, intellectual guidance, spir-itual consolations are but gifts of God delivered to us by the Cath-olic Churdh. Our dignity surpasses powerful monarch because we are the Ghost and the adopted children of liberality;. It is also worth remembering that, are conferred upon all or many men that of the world's most living temples of the Holy God Himself through His though some of God's gifts equally, most of them are decidedly individualistic, earmarked for me personally either by their very. nature or by the manner in which they are presented. For instance, the providence which God exercises towards me differs from that which He exercises' towards anyone else. I had fny own distinctive parents. I have my own distinctive qualities of body and soul, and my 9wn special circumstances of life. The touches of God upon my mind and heart by actual grace are adapted to my special needs and are tinged with His thoughtfulness of me personally. God worked out my vocation by a series of external circumstances and internal helps that were verified in no other case. Only in heaven will I realize the vast number of gifts that God addressed to me personally, but a little reflection will reveal some of them even now. This reflection will be time well spent since it will sharpen my active spirit of thanksgiving. So much f6r the number and kind of God's gifts. We are literally walking bundles of God's benefits. It should fill us with 228 September, 1949 PROGRESS THROUGH THANKSGIVING humility to realize that at times we are so briskly grateful to some human benefactor for a single favor whereas we are s.o sluggish in expressing our appreciation to God, the "Source of all blessings." However, gratitude should be m'easured not only by the number and kind of gifts received but also by the nobility of the giver. On this score also our thanksgiving to God should be intensified. Other things being in balance, we appreciate more a present from a superior than one from an equal. The modern craze for autographs rests upon this principle. We are not personal acquaintances of either the Holy Father or his secretary, but we would value more a rosary sent us by the Holy Father than we would the same rosary given us by his secretary. If, then, on various occasions we have been impelled to active gratitude because some other person has been generous towards us, what should be our active gratitude to God, the Lord and Ruler of the universe and the Father of us all? One other factor enters into the degree of gratitude that we owe another. It is the intention of the giver. The greater the love of the donor, the'more heartfelt should be our appreciation for his gifts. "The gift without the giver is bare." The nobleman who tosses his unfeeling coin to the'beggar at the castle's portal is a benefactor, but not a lover. He deserves thanks; but not very much, because he does not give himself in his gift. His coin, no matter how precious, does not symbolize any self-giving. So necessary is this disposition of love on the part of the giver, that a present bestowed out of unal-loyed selfishness, for instance, solely to obtain some favor from the recipient, really merits no thanks at all. It would probably be correct to say that those people who by their kindness really activated our natural gratitude in the past were motivated by a personal regard for us, a love more or less intense. But even so, their love cannot compare with God's when He com-municates His gifts to us. God is never ~imply a benefactor. He is always the supreme lover, and this spiritual truth is manifested strikingly in some of His gifts. Consider, for example, the gift of sanctifying grace. By it we are in some mysterious way made "sharers in the divine nature." It is the seed of the future flower of the beatific vision wherein we shall one day be enabled to perform in a finite way acts of knowledge and love that properly belong to God alone. No creature by its natural powers could ever behold God intuitively and experience the ineffable love and joy that follow upon that knowledge. In short, sanctifying grace is not only a symbol of 229 CLARENCE MCAULIFFE Ret~ietO for Religious God's desire to give Himself, but it is an actual giving of Himself in as far as it is possible for Him to do so. It is evident that God could not possib!y assimilate us into His divinity. " The result would be paiatheism, Which would conflict with His infinite perfection. But by sanctifying grace He has conferred upon us powers that truly resemble His own. Again, this effort of God to give Himself to us as far as possible is revealed by His constant bestowal of" actual graces. These are outright gifts. By them God Himself stimulates our minds and wills. He illuminates our minds by endowing them with a bit of His own divine wisdom, and He spurs on our wills to do good by communicating to them a mite of His own power. If a blood donor saves our life, we are deeply.grateful. He has truly given up a part of himself. God is constantly renewing our spiritual forces by transmitting to us through actual graces tiny sparks of His own knowledge and might. Moreover, these visitations of God are frequent. They come many times every single day. They are directed to our welfare. They benefit only ourselves,.not God. No self-seeking mars God's activity in our souls. These graces are tokens of a perfect love that seeks only the good of the beloved, and by these graces we see with God's own light and we act with God's own power. Finally, we note God's loving intentions towards us in His gift of the Blessed Sacrament. By this marvel of God's omnipotence Our Lord becomes corporeally present, not merely in one place but in thousands throughout the world. He does not walk about now in His visible body to visit us in our homes, but He remains on the altar in an invisible manner so that we can walk to Him and con-verse with Him. Furthermore, not only has He blessed us with this gift of His abiding presence, but He comes to us daily in Hol'~" Communion, a tangible proof that He is not just a benefactor but an ardent lover. He literally gives us Himself for a short time every day in a union that transcends any possible union between mere human beings. Holy Communion, then, together with sanctifying grace and actual grace lends us some tiny ins.igbt into the flaming love that inspires God in all of His gifts to us. On all scores, therefore, we should be more actively grateful to God than to any human benefactor. We are indebted to God not for one gift or a thousand, but literally for everything. .Even the gifts of other people to us are in reality God's gifts. He is the 230 September, 1949 PROGRESS THROUGH THANKSGIVING ultimate source of all our blessings. Moreover, in dignity God the Giver excels infinitely all human donors. Then too, no human benefactor can possibly be motivated by the unbounded love of God as this is manifested particularly by His gifts of grace and the Blessed Sacrament. Yet despite all this we are at times deeply moved to gratitude by one trifling gift from another person, whereas our grati-tude to God remains ineit and lifeless. No doubt one reason for our lethargy arises from the fact that God does not visibly appear when He confers His gifts. We are so tied to our sense perceptions that our emotion of gratitude does not spontaneously react when we cannot sensibly perceive the donor. To counter this difficulty we should vivify our faith, since we know b.v faith (and also by reason) that God as a matter of fact does give us everything we have. A good reason for our failure to be more actively grateful springs from a selfish trait or quirk in human nature. When we recei~'e many gifts from another, our spirit of thanksgiving instead of waxing tends to wane. We tire of saying "Thank you." We begin to take favors for granted, or we even begin to look upon them as our right. We all know this from per-sonal experience, but we also realize that we should fight against this natural tendency not only in regard to God but also in regard to our human benefactors. Suppose, then, that by God's help we do manage to weave into our souls a rhore active spirit of thank, sgiving to Him. What bene-fits will accrue to our spiritual lives? To answer this we need only recall the benefits deriving from an active natural gratitude. First, an active supernatural gratitude will lead us to more intense love for God. In fact, such gratitude is one of the avenues that leads directlx." to perfect love for God, as all spiritual writers admit. Secondly, this energetic gratitude inspires us with humility towards God and towards our fellow meri. Realizing that we have been given so much despite the fact that we deserve absolutely nothing, we descend to our proper level with reference to God 'and our neighbor. Thirdly, such living gratitude, represses grumbling and criticism. The truly grateful man does not complain. He does not have his adverse com-ments to offer about every new regulation of his superior. He does not make the round of the community spreading cheap gossip about others. He is too grateful. This effect of gratitude is expressed by the poet, ,Josephine Pollard, in her poem "Grumble Corner": 231 CLARENCE MCAULIFFE Ret~iew got Religious And man a discontented mourner, Is spending his da~ls in Grumble Corner: Sour and sad, whom I long to entreat, To take'a house in Tbanks-gi~ing Street. Fourthly, this energetic spirit of thanksgiving will give us the right perspective on the circumstances that enter our lives. We will evaluate them correctly. We will not allow our minds to focus attention on minor irritations which, if unchecked, may upset our peace of soul for days at a time. The grateful recollection of the uninterrupted series of benefits flowing to us every minute from God's liberality will reduce such irritations to their right size.and keep our minds in proper balance. Fifthly, this vigorous gratitude to God will not permit us to forget our fellow men. It will impel us to do favors for others, and it will guarantee that these favors will be supernaturally motivated. Sixthly, just as the expression of natural gratitude wins more gifts from a benefactor, so an active supernatural gratitude brings down more favors from God, especially by augmenting the flow of His actual graces. ¯Lastly, and very important, this brisk spirit of gratitude, just like its natural counter-part, fills the soul ~vih joy. The grateful man is always happy, and this atmosphere of happiness, correctly understood, is indispensable for spiritual progress. Since God is the ultimate giver of all things, we purposely emphasize the value of active gratitude to Him. However, the exer-cise of this virtue towards Him does not exclude the propriety of 'exercising it also towards our fellow men. In fact, it would be spiritually profitable for us to say "Thank you" to others much more often than we do, always remembering that we are really thanking God even when we address our thanks to others. Various people contribute to our welfare every day by their services for our spiritual, intellectual, social, and bodily needs. These benefactors should be thanked, at least on occasion. It would be detrimental to spirituai progress for a priest or religious to adopt the viewpoint either explicitly or implicitly that those who provide these services ¯ are merely doing their job. True enough, such benefactors may have an obligation in conscience to perform some duty for us, and in some cases we may have a right to their service. But it would be profitable to remember that even the rights we have are gifts of God to us and that-all those, therefore, who minister to u~ in any way deserve our thanks. Among those who merit special and lasting thanks are 232 September, 1949 PROGRESS THROUGH THANKSGIVING superiors since they more than others supply our spiritual, intellec-tual, and temporal wants. ~ Just as with all other virtues, if we wish to develop our spirit of thanksgiving, we must practice it. This means a fight against our natural inclinati6ns. By nature we take favors for granl~ed. Even the child, model of sanctity in a general way, has to be taught to express gratitude. In order to exercise this virtue more energetically we might, then, make it the subject of our particulaz examination of conscience. It would be helpful, too, since we are dealing with a supernatural virtue whose exercise depends on the grace of God, to pray often for a gradual increase of our active thanksgiving. Finally, we may make progress in this matter by pr~ayerful reflection on the fact that God is our loving Father. Father Faber in All for Jesus has a lengthy chapter on thanksgiving, and he attributes our lack of spirit in the practice of this virtue 'mainly to our failure to reflec( prayerfully on the truth that God is our Father. To conclude, we are aware that many motives urge us to advance in our exercise of thanksgiving. We know that God wants it, because we have read some of His words as contained in the writings of St. Paul. We know, too, the gospel story of the ten lepers in wbich Our Lord expressed His disappointment when only one returned to say "Thank you." We know also that the Church wants more gratitude to God. In her prayers during Mass she says in the Gloria: "'Gratias agimus tibi'" (We give thanks to Thee) ; in the verses before the Prefac,e she prays: "'Gratias agamus Domino Deo nostro'" (Let us thank God our Lord) ; and in the beginning of the Common Preface she sings: "'Vere dignum et justum est, aequum et salutare, nos Tibi semper et ubique gratias agere". (It is truly right and just, proper and salutary for us to thank You at all times and in all places). It is possible that we are urged to be grateful to God even by the rules of our order. St. Ignatius lays it down in his constitutions that his fol-lowers should "thank God in all things." Even reason tells us that we can never thank God enough. Prudence, of course, must regulate this virtue as it regulates all others, but most of us will probabl'! admit that we have not gone to excess in the exercise of thanksgiving. If there has been any imprudence, it has been in the dullness of our spirit of gratitude. The removal of that dullness will contribute substantially to our spiritual progress. 233 Report: !:o Rome Adam C. Ellis; S.J. "Introduction AS EARLY AS 1861 we find a clause put into the constitutions of congregations of religious women approved by the Holy See (Sacred Congregation of Bishops and Regulars) pre-scribing that the superior general must send in an occasional report to the Sacred Congregation. For example, in the Constitutions Of the Sisters of Nazareth of Chalon (September 27, 1861) the obli-gation was worded as follows: "The superior general is bound every three years to send to this Sacred Congregation a report on the condition of her own institute. This report must cover both the material and personal condition, that is, the number of houses and of the Sisters in the institute and their disciplinary condition, namely, the observance of the constitu-tions, as well as whatever pertains to the economic administration.'" Gradually some such paragraph became a regular part 'of all constitutions approved by the Holy See. When the Normae were established in 1901, Article 262 covered this point: "Every three years the superior general shall give a report to this Sacred Congregation regarding the disciplinary, material, personal, and economic condition of her institute. The ordinary of the place where the mother house is located will certify this report by signing it." Left to th'emselves, superiors general of congregations app'roved by the Holy See wrote their reports on the four salient points as best they could. Sometimes minor matters were stressed and written up at great length while more important matters were either merely mentioned briefly or omitted altogether. As a result, in order to pro-cure uniformity and to be sure to get all the essential information desired in these reports, the Sacred Congregation of Bishops and Regulars issued an instruction on July 16, 1906, regarding this tri-ennial report and added a list of 98 questions to be answered. In 1917 the Code of Canon Law extended the obligation of sending a report to the Holy See to "the abbot primate, the superior of every monastic congregation, and the superior general of every 234 REPORT TO ROME institute approved by the Holy See" (canon 510) but made the concession that the report need be sent only every five years unless the constitutions prescribed that it be sent more frequently. With the increase in the number of reports sent to the Sacred Congregation by all institutes approved by the Holy See, the work of the Sacred Congregation became greatly involved. Hence it was not surprising that it issued a new instruction (February 23, 1922, approved by Pope Pius XI on March 8th) in which it divided all institutions into five sections--religious men according to the nature of their institutes, religious women according to their geogral3hicat location--Leach section being assigned a definite year in which to send in its report. The old questionnaire of 1906 was replaced by a new list of 105 questions to be answered when making the report. Only organized religious institutes approved by the Holy See and societies of men and women living in common without public vows were bound to make this report; independent monasteries of men and women as well as diocesan institutes were not bound. Meanwhiie a new form of religious, perfection had been devel- Oped in the Church. This new form was recently approved by Pope Plus XII, who officially applied the term "secular institutes" to societies which embrace it. These secular institutes may also receive the approval of the Holy See in due time. The aftermath of two world wars manifesting itself in modern life has made it necessary for religious institutes of all kinds to adapt themselves to the external circumstances in which they are living. A consideration of these modern problems which beset religious prob-ably induced the Sacred Congregation of Religious to issue a n~w instruction (3uly 4, 1947) regarding the quinquennial report. Two days later Pope Plus XII approved this new instruction which super-sedes all previous decrees on the subject. We shall give the provi-sions of this new instruction and then add a few brief comments. The Instruction "I. According to the Code (canon 510) the abbot primate, the abbot superior of a monastic congregatioia (canon 488, 8°), the "superior gen.eral of ever,y religious institute, of eve.r,y societyoof, comr mon life without public vows (canon 675) and of secular institutes approved by the Holy See, and the president of any federation of houses of religiou~ institutes, societies of common life, or secular 235 ADAM C. ELMS Review ior Re:igious institutes (or their vicars in default c~.~ tL'e above-named persons or if they are prevented from acting ]canon 488, 8°]) must send to the Holy See, that is to this Sacred Congregation of Religious, a report of the state of their religious institute, society, secular insti-tute, or federation every five years, even if the year assigned for sending the report falls wholly or partly w~:hin the first two years from the time when they entered upon the office. "II. The five-year period shall be fixed and common to all those mentioned above in n. I; a1:d they shall continue to be computed from the firs~ day of dzn:iary, 1923. "III. In making :he reports the following order shall be observed : "1. From among the religious institutes, societies of common life, secular institutes, and federations approved by the Holy See whose members are men the report is to be sent: "in the first year [|948] of the five-year period: by the canons regular, monks, and cnlitary orders; "in the second year [1949]: by the mendicants, clerics regular, and other regulars; "in the third year [I950] : by the clerical congregations; "in the fourth year [1951]: by the lay congregations; "in the fifth year [1952]: by the societies of common life, secular institutes, and federations. "2. From among the religious institutes, societies-of common life, secular institutes, and federations approved by the Holy See whose members are women the report is to be sent according to the region in which the principal house is .juridically established: "in tl~e first year~ [1948] of the five-yea~ period': by the supe-rioresses of religious institutes in Italy, Spain and Portugal; "in the second year [1949]: by the superioresses of religious institutes in France, Belgium, Holland, England, and Ireland; "in the third year [1950]: by the superioresses of religious institutes in other parts of Europe; "in the fourth year [1951]: by the superioresses of religious institutes in tlie countries of America; "in the fifth year [1952]: by the superioresses of religious insti-tutes in other parts'of theworld and moreover by the superioresses of societies of common, life, secular institutes, and federations throughout the world. 2.36 September, 1949 REPORT TO ROME "IV. In order that the Sacred Congregation may be able to obtain certain and authentic information regarding all those monas-teries and independent houses approved b~r the Holy See--both men and women--which are not bound by canon 5 10 to send the quin-quennial report, and regarding congregations, societies of common life, and secular institutes of.diocesan approval, the following are to be observed: "1. Major superiors of monasteries or independent houses of men which, although they" are approved by the Holy See, neither belong to any monastic cofigregation nor are federated with others shall send to the ordinary of the place, at the time and in the order mentioned above (n. HI, 1), a summary report of the five-year period signed by themselves and by their proper councilors. The ordinary in turn shall send a copy of. this report signed by himself, with any remarks he may see fit to add, to this Sacred Congregation within the year in which the' report was made. "2. Major superioresses of monasteries of nuns with their proper council, according to the order above prescribed (n. III, 2). for general superioresses, shall send a brief and concise report of the five-year period, signed by all of them, to the ordinary of the place if the nuns are subject to him: otherwise to the regular superior. The ordinary of the place or the regular superior shall carefully transmit a copy of the report, signed by himself with any remarks he may see fit to add, to this Sacred Congregation within the year in ~hich the report was made. "3. The general superiors of congregations, of societies of'com-mon life, and of secular institutes of diocesan approval shall send a quinquennial report, signed by themselves and by their proper coun-cil, to. the ordinary of the place where the prihcipal house is, at the time and in the order above prescribed (n. III, 1 and 2). The ordinary of the place shall not fail to communicate this report to the ordinaries of the other houses, and he shall within the year send to this Sacred Congregation a copy, signed by himself, adding his own judgment and that of the other ordinaries regarding the "congrega-tion, society, or secular institute in question. "4. Independent and autonomous religious houses and houses of a society without vows or of a secular institute which are not united in a federation, whether they be of diocesan or of papal approval, shall send a summary report of the five-year period to the ordinary 237 ADAM C. ELLIS Re~ieto for Religious of the place in the order above prescribed (n. III I and 2). The ordinary in turn shall send a copy of the said report, signed by him-self and adding any remarks hi may see fit to make, to this Sacred Congregation, likewise within the year. "V. In making out their reports all religious institutes, monastic congregations, societies of common life, secular institutes and fed-erati~ ns approved by the Holy See, even though they be exempt, must follow exactly the schedule of questions which will be made out by the Sacred Congregation and sent to them directly. "Monasteries of nuns, autonomous houses ot? religious institutes and of societies and secular institutes appproved by the Holy See, and congregations, societies and secular institutes of diocesan approval shall use shorter formulas which will be approved for them. "VI. The replies given to the questions proposed must always be sincere and as far as possible complete and based on careful inquiry; and this is an obligation in conscience according to the .gravity of the matter. If the replies are deficient in necessary .mat-ters or if they seem uncertain or not sufficiently reliable, the Sacred Congregation will ex o~cio see to it that they are completed and, if need be, will even itself directly conduct the investigations. "VII. Before the report is officially signed by the superior and by the individual councilors or assistants, it is to be carefully exam-ined personally and collectively. "The general superioress of religious institutes of women and 6f societies of common life, secular institutes, and federations approved by the Holy See shall send the report, signed by herself and by her council, to the ordinary, of the place in which the mother house is located, so that he according to law (canon 510) may sign the report; then in due time she shall see that the report signed by the ordinary of the place is sent to this Sacred Congregation. "VIII. If any of the superiors or councilors who has to sign the report has an objection of any consequence to make to it which he was not able to express in giving his vote, or if he judges that any-thing concerning the report should in any way be communicated to the Sacred Congregation, he may do this by private letter, and may even be in conscience bound to do so according to the case. However, let him be mindful of his own condition and remember tha, t he will gravely burden his conscience if he dares in such a secret 238 September, 1949 REPORT TO ROME letter to state anything which is not true. "IX. At the end of each year all religious institutes, societies of common life, and secular institutes and federations, whether of diocesan or papal approval, shall send directly to the Sacred Congre.- gation of Religious an annual report, according to the schedules contained in the formulas which will be made out and distributed by the Sacred Congregation, stating the principal matters which con-cern the state of persons, works, or other things which ~nay be of interest either to the Sacred Congregation or to superiors, "His Holiness Plus XII, in' the.audience given to the undersigned Secretary of the Sacred Congregation of Religious on July 9, 1947, .approved the text of this decree, and ordered that i~ be observed by all and that it be published, all things to the contrary notwith-standing." Comments I. Who must make the report?--All superiors general of orders, congregations, societies living in common without public vows, and secular institutes are bound to make the quinquennial report from now on. It makes no difference whether they are still diocesan or whether'they have received the approval of the Holy See. Superiors of independent monasteries or houses not attached to a monastic con-gregation are also bound to make the report. The term "'federation" refers to a union of independent houses which have the same family name, live according to the same spirit, and are grouped together under the direction of a president who is a visitor rather than a superior. 2. When the report must be sent.--Whe division into five sec-tions follows that already in existence since the decree of 1922. The one exception is the case of clerics regular who pass from the third to the second year. 3. Forms for the report.--These will be of two different kipds. The first (revised and extended over that of 1922) will be for all institutes of whatever nature which have been approved by the Holy See. These will be sent directly to the Sacred Congregation after the ordinary of the place where the mother house is located has authenti-cated the signatures of the general council by appending his own sig-nature. The second form for diocesan institutes will be shorter and will be given directly to the ,ordinary of the place where the mother 239 ADAM C. ELLIS house is located. He in turn must read the report and, after having added his own comments, forward it to the Sacred Congregation. 4. Annual short report.--Every religious institute and every ¯ independent community, whether papal or diocesan, will be obliged to fill out a one-page report rega.rding the number of members, houses, and works performed. 5. Forms to be sent from Rome.--Since the new forms or ques-tionnaires'are to be sent by the Sacred Congregation, superiors are not obliged to make their reports until they have received them. When the forms appear, we hope to publish them in REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. In conclusion we may say that this entire instruction applies only to institutes which are directly subject to the Sacred Congregation of Religious. Institutes directly subject to the Sacred Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith will be guided by the instruction published by that Sacred Congregation on June 29, 1937. VOCATIONAL LITI:RATURE Since many of our readers are engaged in various forms of vocational coun-seling, we make a special effort to. keep them.informed of any vocational literature we receive. Leaflets and booklets on religious and priestly vocations that we have recently received may be obtained from the following: Vocation Director, St. Paul's College, Washington 17, D.C. (An illustrated leaflet entitled, "'Whtj Not Be a Paulist Missionary!.") Brother Recruiter, St. Francis Monastery, 41 Butler St., Brooklyn 2, N. Y. (Script and pictures describing the life of the Franciscan Teaching Brothers.) Ft. Superior, St. Joseph's House. Graymoor, Garrison, N.Y. (An illustrated booklet entitled The Gra~jmoor Brother.) Mother General, Franciscan Sisters of the Sacred Heart, 372 N. Broadway, Joliet. Ill. (Script and pictures illustrating the life of the Sisters.) Mission Sisters, Mesa, Arizona. (An illusrated booklet describing the work oi the Mission Sisters of the Spouse of the Holy Ghost.) House of the Good Shepherd, 8830 W. Blue Mound Road, Wauwatosa 13, Wis. (The life of St.Mary Euphrasia Pelletier in a pamphlet entitled A Harvester of Souls.) , Mother Vicaress, Corpus Christi Carmel, Keatney, Nebraska. (An illustrated leaflet concerning the work of the Corpus Christi Carmelites.) 240 Aclmission oi: Orientals into Latin Insl:il:ul:es Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. THE Code of Canon Law forbids, but does not invalidate, the admission of Oriental Catholics into the novitiates of institutes -of the Latin rite. Canon 542, 2° reads : ""The following are illicitly, but validly admitted: Orientals in institutes of the Latin rite, without the written permission of the Sacred Congregation for the Oriental Church." This prohibition extends to all Latin reli-gious institutes, whether clerical or lay, of men or of women. The Code is speaking here only of Oriental Catholics. Oriental schismat-ics are non-Catholics, and their admission into a Latin religious institute is invalid, in virtue of canon 538. Oriental Catholics are commonly called Uniates; Oriental schismatics, Orthodox. It is evi-dent that the Catholic Oriental rites do not and cannot differ from the Latin rite with regard to the natural law, divine positive law, or revelation in general. The differences are in rites, ceremonies, laws, and customs that are purely of ecclesiastical origin. We may be inclined to consider the present impediment as one of little practical import. It is true that very many institutes in the United States have never received an application from an Oriental. Many institutes, however, have received such applications and on more than one occasion. In several of these cases the impediment was not discovered until after the candidate had been admitted into the noviceship and even only after final profession. This should arouse greater attention to the impediment. It is also true, as we hope to show in the following pages, that there exists a .very prac-tical problem of recognizing that the candidate is an Oriental. The principles for handling cases of this impediment are contained in the explanations that follow. I. The Impediment An Oriental in the sense of canon 542, 2° is a Catholic who is an Oriental at present. Evidently a Catholic, formerly an Oriental, who has already legitimately transferred to the Latin rite, is not an Oriental but a Latin Catholic and would not be affected by the impediment. The intrinsic reason for the necessity of the permission 241 JOSEPH F. GALLEN ,Review for Religious of the Holy See is that admission to a Latin institute" implies the entrance into a state of permanent and necessary conformity to the Latin rite. Therefore, the permission of the Holy See is not required in the relatively infrequent case of the admission of an Oriental can-didate who is destined either to establish Oriental houses or provinces of the Latin institute or to be affiliated with those already in exist-ence. II. Rite of Baptism of Children A child who has not attained the use of reason must be bal~tized in the rite of l~is parents (canon 756, § 1). 1. If both parents are Catholics and of the same rite (canon 756, § 1) and (a) both are Latins, the child is to be baptized in the Latin rite; (b) both are Orientals, the child is to be baptized an Oriental. 2. If both parents are Catholics, one a Latin and the other an Oriental, (a) the child is to be baptized in the rite of the father (canon 756, § 2). Therefore, if the mother is an Oriental and the father a Latin, the child is to be baptized in the Latin rite; if the mother is a Latin and the father an Oriental, the child is to be baptized an Oriental. (b) A contrary provision for a particular rite can change'the prece~.[ng general norm (canon 756, § 2). Such a contrary provi-sion exists: (1) in the Italo-Greek rite, in which the child of an Italo-Greek father and a Latin mother may be baptized in the Latin rite with the consent of the father; (2) for the Greek-Ruthenian rite in Gaiicia, in which sons follow the rite of the father, daughters the rite of the mother, but all children of both sexes follow the rite of a father who i~ a Greek-Ruthenian cleric. (c) A child born after the death of the father is more probably ro be baptized in the rite of the mother. ' 3. If one parent is a Catholic and the other a non-Catholic, the child is to be baptized in the rite of the Catholic parent (canon 756, § 3). Therefore, if the mother is a non-Catholic, the child is to be baptized in the rite of the Catholic father, whether the latter is a Latin or an Oriental; if the father is a non-Catholic, the child is to baptized in the rite of theoCatholic mother, whether she is a Latin or an Oriental. 4. If both parents are non-Catholics (either unbaptized or 242 September, 1949 ADMISSION OF ORIENTALS Oriental schismatics or heretics from birth), the parents may choose the rite, Latin or Oriental, of the Catholic baptism of their child. This favor does not extend to Oriental scbismatics or heretics who have apostatized from the Catholic faith, either in the Latin or an Oriental rite. Such a child is to be baptized in the Catholic rite from which his parents have apostatized, according to the norms given in 1-3 above. 5. Illegitimate children are to be baptized: (a) in the rite of the father, if. his name is to be legiti:natelv inscribed in the baptismal register (cf. canon 777, § 2) : (b) in the rite of the mother, if her name alone is to be legiti-mately inscribed in the baptismal register (cf. canon 777, § 2) : (c) in the rite of the place of birth, if the name of neither the father nor the mother is to be legitimately inscribed in the baptismal register; in the rite of the minister of baptism, if many rites are in existence in the place of birth. 6. Abandoned children are to be baptized in the rite of the place where they are found; if many rites are in existence in this place, they are to be .baptized in the rite of the minister to whom they are given for baptism. IlI. Rite of Baptism of Those Who Haae Attained the Use of Reason 1. A person who has attained the use of reason may rece'~ve bap-tism in the ri~e be cboc,~es, independently of the rite, whether Latin or Oriental. of his parcnt~. IV'. Title of A~liation to a Farticular Rite in the Church By baptism a physical pets,on is endowed with juridical person-ality in the Church, that is, be becomes the subject of rights and obligations in the Church (:.~non 87). The unbaptized are not sub-ject tc~ purely ecclesiastical la~vs, but all b~ptized are subject to such laws unless some are exempted by the Church in a particular matter. The ecclesiastical diriment impediment of consanguinity does not invalidate the marriage of two Jewish first cousins, but it does nul-lify the marriage of two Episcopalian first cousins since baptism sub-jects the latter to laws that are purely ecclesiastical. It is only natural, therefore, that the Church has enacted that baptism is also to determine the rite of a physical person, since affiliation to a particular rite in the Church implies subjection to distinctive laws and customs and thus produces distinctive rights and obligations in the individual. 243 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious Canc;n 98, § I states that a person is affillated to the rite in which he was baptized. Obviously this canon intends the rite in which the individual was legitimatel~! baptized according to the norms given in the two preceding sections. If baptism administered contrary to these norms determined the rite of the subject, there would have been no adequate reason for establishing such norms. Therefore, the principle that determines affiliation to a particular rite in the Church is the following: (1) a person belongs to the rite in which he was legitimately baptized; (2) if, contrary to the above fiorms, he was.!llegitimately baptized in another rite, he belongs to the rite in which he should have been baptized. The gdod or bad faith of the parents, the subject or the minister of baptism does not alter such a case of illegitimate baptism. For example, if two Maro-nite parents, thinking that their child may be licitly baptized in the Latin rite, offer the child to a Latin priest who does not even suspect the Oriental affiliation of the parents and baptizes the child in the Lati,n rite the child is an Oriental, not a Latin. Exactly the sam~ conclusion would be verified if there was bad faith or even deception on the part of the paren.ts, the priest, or both. A most noteworthy feature of this case is the difficulty it can cause religious superiors. The candidate will present a Latin baptismal certificate which will give no indication that he is an Oriental. There are two cases in which even a legitimate baptism in a p~r-ticular rite does not effect affiliation to that rite. The first is the case of serious necessity, when a person.is baptized in another rite becaus~e no priest of the proper rite can be secured (.canon 98, § 1). Such necessity is verified not only in danger of death but also when the baptism would be unduly deferred by awaiting a priest of the prdper rite. The consideration of the eternal salvation of the subject ren-ders the baptism in another rite licit in these cases of necessity. How-ever, the subject is not affiliated to the rite of his baptism but'to the rite in which he should ordinaril~t have boen baptized, according to the above norms. For example, if a Latin priest, with or without the request of two Melkite parents whose child is in danger of death, baptizes it in the Latin rite, the child is an Oriental, not a Latin. It is a well-known fact that these baptisms of necessity are of frequent occurrence in the United States, because of the scarcity of Oriental priests. The Latin.priest, in the example given above of the Melkite child, should have noted the Oriental affiliation of the child in the parochial bapt, ismal register of the place of baptism and should also 244 September, 1949 ADMISSIO~q OF ORIENTALS have sent a notification of the baptism to the proper Oriental pastor of the child. It is safe to assert that this law of annotation and notification with regard to an Oriental will oftentimes not be observed. It is not a law that is emphasized by the ordinary text-books of moral theology. We~ can thus again have the case of a can-didate for admittance into religion who Will present a Latin bap-tismal certificate that will give no indication of his Oriental affilia-tion. ' The" second case of a li~it aptism in a particular rite which does not cause affiliation to that'rit~e is a dispensation from the Holy See to the effect that one may be bfiptized in a particula~ rite xvithout, however, being thereby made ~i member of that rite. V. Transfer to Another Rite 1. Transfer from an Orielntal to the Latin rite, from the Latin to an Oriental rite, or the return to such a rite after a legitimate transfer is forbidden and is ilnvalid without the permission of the Holy See (can. 98, § 3). ' 2. When parents legitimatelly change their rite, the rite of children alread~l born is regulated by the following norms: ¯ (a) if the children have nlot attained the use of reason, they fo!- low the changed rite of the parents if both of the latter have changed their rite; if only one of the Iparents his changed rite, the children belong to the changed rite of tl4e father but not of the mother. (b) if the children haoe attained the use of reason, they have the choice of passing to the changed rite of the parents or of remaining in their present rite (c) if the children have completed their twent~l-first ~lear, they retain their own rite and are not affected by the change in rite of the parents. 3. There is one exceptio to the prohibition of passing to another rite. Canon 98, § 4 ,permits to a woman only, not before but at the beginning of or during marriage, to pass to the rite of her husband. She may also return to her former rite on the dissolution of the marriage. This latter right is limited by any contrary pro-vision made for a particular rite. Such a contrary prox?ision exists in the Italo-Greek rite, in which an Italo-Greek woman who had passed to the Latin rite of her husband is forbidden to resume the Italo-Greek rite on the death of her husband. 4. Oribntal schismatics and heretics from birth, upon their con- 245 JOSEPH F. GALL'EN Review [or Religious version to the Catholic faith, may .choose any Oriental rite they pre-fer. They have also the right of chooying to be affiliated with the Latin rite at their conversion. In the latter case they retain the right of returning to the Catholic Oriental rite that corresponds to their schismatical rite. If they are to be rebaptized conditionally, this rebaptism should, except in case of necessity, be in the rite they have chosen to follow. This favor, does not extend to Oriental schismatics and heretics who have" apostatized from the Catholic faith, either in the Latin or an Oriental rite, nor to occidental heretics dr schismatics. The former must return to the Catholic rite from which they aposta-tized, and the latter are to embrace the Latin rite. VI. Participation in Another Rite Does not Effect a Change of Rite Canon 98, § 5 affirms the principle that participation in another rite, no matter how prolonged, does not effect a change of rite. This norm follows clearly from the fundamental principles that one belongs to the rite in which he was or should have been baptized and that the permission of the Holy See is required to effect a valid change in rite. All the faithful, merely for the sake of devotion, may receive the Holy Eucharist in any rite (canon 866), may go to confession in any rite (canons 881, § 1; 905), and they may also attend Mass in any rite (canon 1249). All such participation in another rite, matter of what duration, does not effect a change in rite. Religious superiors in the United States will be compelled to exercise special care with cases that fall under this heading. It fre-quently happens that Orientals have been completely educated in schools of.the Latin rite or have for years participated in the Latin rite. They can readily believe that they are thereby Latins. They are Orientals. This¯ case is made more difficult when the baptism was also in the Latin rite (cf. section IV), for the Latin baptismal certificate will oftentimes contain no notation of the Oriental affilia-tion of the baptized. VII. The Permission The Holy See alone can grant the permission for an Oriental to enter a Latin institute. The competent congregation is the Sacred Congregation for the Oriental Church. The impediment is to admis-sion to the novitiate, not to postulancy. The common practice is to 246 September, 19 4 9 ADMISSION OF ORIENTALS apply for the permission 0nly before the noviceship and not before the postulancy. Since ecclesiastical authorities have .not objected to this practice, it may be safely followed. It has always seemed to the present writer that dispensations from any of the impediments of canon 542 as well as from those of the particular law of the institute¯ should regularly be sought before the postulancy. A sufficient reason for this doctrine is, to speak in general, that the refusal of a dispensa-tion is a practical possibility. A candidate who after several months in tbe postulancy should be compelled to leave because of the refusal of a dispensation would not be in an enviable state. This doctrine is more cogent in the case of lay institutes, whose superiors cannot be expected to know either the impediments or the conditions under which the Holy See is acct~tomed to dispense. It can be objected that the suitability of the candidate should be tested by the postulancy before a dispensation is secured for admittance to the noviceship. This argument does not appear to possess any great efficacy when it is considered that the Church does not impose the postulancy on all classes of candidates for the religious life. The petition is to contain the name, age, specific rite (not merely Uniate, but Antiocbene Marionite, Byzantine Rutbenian of the Philadelphia Ordinariate, Byzantine Ruthenian of the Pittsburgh Ordinariate, etc.), diocese of the candidate, and a statement that the competent superior is willing to admit him into ~he ~eligious insti-tute. A petition for a male candidate is to state whether or not he is destined for orders. A proportionate reason should be given for a dispensation or a favor that partakes of the nature of a.dispensation. The universal reason in the present case is the greater spiritual profit of the individual by religious profession to be made in a Latin insti-tute. 1 This reason does not have to be explicitly stated, since it is implicitly contained in the petition itself. The S. C6ngregation readily grants permission for an Oriental to enter a Latin institute. It has been said that the Holy See desires an Oriental to enter an Oriental province of the Latin institute he has chosen if such prov-inces exist in the particular institute. A study of several rescript, gives no indication that this desire has been urged. Furthermore, there are relatively very few institutes in the United States that have such provinces. Considerable variety is found in the manner in ~Religious profession as such constitutes the greater spiritual good, and in this case the profession is to be made in a Latin institute. 247 JOSEPH F. CIALLEN Review ~or Religious which the permission has been given, as will be clear from the fol-lowing : 1. If the candidate is not destined for orders (Brother, Nun, Sister).--Formerly a petition had to be made both before the nov-iceship and before first profession. The first rescript granted permis-sion to conform to the Latin rite during the noviceship, and the second definitively transferred the novice to the Latin rite at first pro-fession. In some of the rescripts it was stated absolutely that the subject was forbidden to return to his native rite without the permis-sion of the Holy See, while in others it was indicated that the sub-ject was transferred back to his native rite by the mere fact that he ceased to be ~i member of the Latin institute. In the present practice of the Holy See a petition is necessary only before the noviceship. The rescript does not transfer the subject to the Latin rite but merely grants permission to conform to the Latin rite. Obviously the subjedt who ceases to be a member of the Latin institute must return to the practice of his native rite, since the entire reason for granting permission to conf6rm to the Latin rite has then ceased to exist (canon 86). This is also explicitly stated in the rescript, as is the fact that the novice or religious retains his Oriental rite. Many of the latest rescripts also contain a clause that empowers religious superiors to permit the subject to use his native rite when-ever they judge this to be useful." The petitions for lay institutes are at least ordinarily being for-warded through the Apostolic Delegate. In this case the following 2The standard form now used by the S. Cong~'egation in granting the permission is: Prot. N . BEATISSIME PATER, rltus . dioecesis . ad pedes Sanctitatis Vestrae provolut . humiliter petit ut ad novitiatum admltti possit et dein in eodem . religiosam professionem emittere valeat, titui latino sere conformando. SACRA CONGREGATIO PRO ECCLESIA ORIENTALI, vigore facul-tatum a Ssmo D. N . Divina Providentia PP . sibi tributarum, benigne concedit ut Orat . in . de qu . in "precibus ad Novitiatum et ad religiosam professionem admitti possit. Eidem Orat . fit insuper facultas sese in omnibus conformandi ritui latino, ea tamen lege ut ritum nativum retineat ira ut si, quacuinque de causa, ad praefat . pertinere desierit, ritum originis sequi teneatur, quo interim legi-time uti potest quoties, Superiot?um iudicio, id utilitas suaserit. Contrariis quibuslibet non obstantibus. Datum Romae, ex Aedibus Sacrae "Congregationis pro Ecclesia Orientali, die . mensis . anno . 248 September, 1949 ADMISSION OF ORIENTALS formalities are required: (1) the petition in duplicate must be signed by the candidate: (2) the petitioner is to.state also the rite. place, and date of his baptism and that there are no Oriental provinc-~s in the Latin institute he wishes to enter; (3) the religious superior is to append a document in duplicate in which he states: (a) there are no Oriental provinces in his institute; (b) he is willing to admit the petitioner into his institute; (c) the date on which the noviceship of the petitioner is to begin: (4) all of the above documents are to be sent to the proper Latin local ordinary who will forward them to the Apostolic Delegate with his own approval in duplicate. 2. I[ the candidate is destined for orders.--The manner of giving the permission has varied also in this case. Foimerly one petition bad to be made before the novicesbip ~and another before first pro-fession. The subject was permitted to conform to the Latin rite during the noviceship and was canonically transferred to this rite b.y first profession. If he ceased for any reason to be a member of the institute, he was by that very fact transferred back to his Oriental rite. In some rescripts he was explicitly forbidden thereafter, with-out the permission of the Holy See, either to exercise any order he might have received in the Latin rite or to receive any higher order in his Oriental rite. From a study of several rescripts, it is clear that the present prac-tice of the Holy See is the same for a clerical religious as that for a lay religious described above. The rescripts read exactly the same. This is true also of the clause empowering the use of the native rite, which was mentioned above. This clause is written in on the stand-ard form, either by hand or typewriter, and it is difficult to account for its absence in some rescripts. If such a permission is given to some clerical and lay religious, it is not easy to see why it is not granted to all. Petitions for candidates destined for. orders are usually forwarded through the procurator general of the institute. If the petition is transmitted through the Apsotolic Delegate, the same for-malities are required as those listed above for a lay religious. 3. Urgent cases. Since the petition must be forwarded to the Holy See, it should be sent about three months before the beginning of the noviceship. If there is insufficient time to secure the permis-sion before the beginning of the noviceship or if the impediment is discovered only after profession, the petition is to be sent to the Apostolic Delegate, who in all likelihood can grant permission for a 249 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review for Religious temporary conformity to the L~tin rite. He will then forward the petition to the Holy See for the permanent conformity. VIII. An Oriental Admitted to a Latin Nooitiate or to Profession without'the Permission of the Holg Such an admissi6n does not invalidate the noviceship or profes-sion. The case, with an explanation for the failure to ask for the permission before the novic~ship, is to be presented to the Holy See. The petition is to contain the' same information and the same for-malities are to be observed as described in the preceding section. The case, as one of urgency, is to be bundled first as explained immedi-ately above. The reason why permissi6n must be asked even after profession is that an Oriental who is received into a Latin institute places himself in a de facto state of permanent and necessary con-formity to the Latin rite in the religious institute. This is the intrinsic reason for the necessity of the permission of the Holy See before the novicesbip, but the same reason is equally verified after the beginning of the noviceship or after profession. IX. Aids for Detecting the Impediment The difficulty of recognizing whether the candidate is a Latin or an Oriental has already been emphasized. Baptism and participation in the Latin rite.are sources of this difficulty. Or~e author has also called attention to our tende, ncy to rank all Italian-speaking Italians as Latins. They can be Italo-GreeksJ from southern Italy. The primary aid is the baptismal certificate if it is from an Oriental church or from a Latin church With a notation of the Oriental affiliation. Without such a notation the Latin baptismal certificate will be of no help unless the names of the parents suggest one of t'he Oriental countries. The same thing is true of the.confirmation cer-tificate. It is to be noted that in most Oriental rites the priest, as the extraordinary minister, a'dministers confirmation immediately after baptism. The Maronites do' not follow'this custom. Oriental priests may confirm in this way the members of their own rite and of other Oriental rites that enjoy the same privilege. The help given by the marriage certificate of the parents will depend on the same facts. The marriage certificate may be merely civil or non-Catholic, and an inquiry concerning such a marriage may bring out the fact that the parents are Orientals. If one of the parties in a marriage is a Latin or a Greek-Ruthenian, the marriage is invalid unless contracted 250 September, 1949 ADMISSION OF ORIENTALS before a competent priest and at least two witnesses. However, as a general principle, the other Oriental rites in the United States did not demand the presence of a priest for the validity of a marriage. Therefore, when such Orientals contracted among themselves or with a non-Catholic, the marriage was not invalidated by the fact that it was contracted before a civil official or a nbn-Catholic minister. The Holy See has recently promulgated new marriage legislation for the Oriental Rites. In virtue of this legislation marriages con-tracted from May 2, 1949, by members of all the Oriental rites are held to the same law as that stated immediately above for Latins and Greek-Ruthenians. The outline ofltheOrientalCatbolic rites appended to this article'~ is intended as something of an aid for detecting the impediment. The native country and language of the parents of the candidate, if they coincide with those of any Oriental rite, are indications that a reli-gious superior should make further inquiries about the rite of the candidate and "parents. This outline has been compiled from several sources, principally from Attwater, The Christian Churches of the East.'~Places outside the eastern countries, such as Canada, South America, France, Belgium, Australia, and Mexico are territories of modern immigration. This outline, as regards.the total number of the faithful of any rite and especially with regard to the number and places in the United States, is only a hazardous approximation of fact. It is sufficiently accurate to fulfill the present purpose, that is, to provide a working norm of caution. Lay religious who desire a general knowledge of the Oriental r'~tes can read: Attwater, Donald. I. The Christian Churches of the East. ll. The Dissident Eastern Churches. Milwaukee, Bruce, 1947. Fortescue, Adrian. The Orthodox Eastern Church. Catholic Truth Society, London, 1907--The Lesser Eastern Churches. Catholic Truth Society, London, 1913.--The Uniate Eastern Churches. ed. G. Smith. Burns, Oates ~ Washbourne, London, 1923. The Catholic Encyclopedia, under Rites. zSee pp. 252 and 253. 9 4Material from Attwater, The Christian Churches of the East, is used with the per-mission of the publisher, The Br,.uce Publishing Company, Milwaukee, Wisconsin. 25l RITE TOTAL NUMBER IN . FOUND PRINCIPALLY NUMBER UNITED STATES OUTSIDE U. S. IN I. ALEXANDRIAN RITE 1. Copts -. . 63,000 2. Ethiopians . 30,500 Egypt Ethiopia, Eritrea II. ANTIOCHENE RITE I. Malankarese 50,000 2. Maronites . 391,000 1 60,000 India Syria, Uruguay, South Africa 3. Syrians . 74,500 III. ARMENIAN RITE 150,600 IV. BYZANTINE RITE 1. Bulgarians . 5,500 2. Greeks . 3,300 3. Hungarians . 140,000 4. Italo-Greeks 60,000 5. Melkites . 173,000 6,800 5,000 1 1 10,000 20,000 Syria, Irak, Brazil, Argentina Syria, .Near East, " Russia, Greece, Galicia, Rumania, France, Belgium Bulgaria .Greece, Turkey Hungary Italy, Sicily Syria, Egypt, Pales-tine, Turkey, Australia, Mexico, Brazil FOUND PRINCIPALLY IN U. S. IN DIOCESES OF 1 VERNACULAR LANGUAGE Arabic Amharic, Tigre ~1 Malayalam Boston, Brooklyn, Buffalo, Cincit~nati, Arabic Cleveland, Detroit, Fall River, Hartford. Los Angeles, Mobile, New York, Phila-delphia, Pittsburgh, Raleigh, Richmond, St. Lot~is, St. Paul, Scranton, Seattle, Springfield, Mass., Syracuse, Trenton, Wheeling Boston, Brooklyn, Columbus, Detroit, Arabic, Syr;.~c Galveston, Hartford, Newark Brooklyn, Newark, New York, Spring- Armenian field, Mass. ~- Bulgarian 1 Greek o. Magyar Brooklyn, New York Italian, Albanian, Greek Boston, Brooklyn, Chicago, Cleveland. Arabic Detroit, Los Angeles, Milwaukee, New-ark, New York: Providence, Springfield, Mass., Toledo 6. Rumanians .1.434,000 8,000 Rumania 7. Russians . 22,500 1,000 Russia, Europe, Far East 8. Ruthenians .5,000,000 a. Galiciansa . 302,100 Galicia, Canada, Brazil, Argentina b. Podcarpath- Cleveland, Detroit, Fort Wayne, Rock-ford, Trenton Los Angeles, New York In states of I11., Md., Mass., Mich., N. 3. N. Y., Ohio, Pa. Rumanian Russian Ukrainian inns4 . 293,871 Czechoslovakia, In states of Conn., Ill., Ind., Mich, N. ,l. Rusin Bukovina (Rumania)," N.Y., Ohio, Pa., W. Va. (Ruthenian) Canada, Brazil, Argentina 9. Yugoslavs . 55,000 .o Yugoslavia __ u Croat V. CHALDEAN RITE I. Chaldeans . 96,000 800 Irak, Syria Chicago, Detroit, Hartford, Los Angeles, Arabic, Syriac New York, Philadelphia, San Francisco 2. l~Ialabarese . 632,000 __1 India __1 Malayalam 1There are either no Orientals of this group in the U. S. or no figures exist as to their number. ~The Hungarians and Yugoslavs in the U. S. belong to the Diocese of Pittsburgh, Greek Rite. There are 14 parishes exclusively . for the Hungarians, with a total of 8,000 souls. The others are mixed in with the predominantly Ruthenian parishes. There ard two exclusively Croatian parishes, with a total of 1,000 souls. The others are mixed in with the Ruthenian parishes. ,SThe Ruthenians of Galicia form the Diocese of the Byzantine Rite (Ukrainian Greek Catholic), Philadelphia, Pa. ~The Ruthenians of Car~atho-Russian,. Hungarian, and Crotian nationalities constitute the Diocese of Pittsburgh, Greek Rite, Homestead, Pa. The two preceding groups are frequently termed Greek-Ruth~nians. They are the only Orientals in the United States who have their own Ordinaries. All other Orientals in this country are under the jurisdiction of the Latin Ordinaries. Tot:al Consecra!:ion !:o ary by Vow Robert L. Knopp, S.M. IN THESE DAYS ~vhen the message of Fatima is at last fanning the world to flame, any form of consecration to Mary must immediately claim the interest of her children. Her revel~tion that the world can be saved only through consecration to her Immaculate Heart-~consecration complete enough to sustain prayer and penance--must increase this interest if the consecration in question is a total one involving .the whole being and activity of the one consecrated. And finally, the urgency of her request, attested by the divine stamp of a cosmic miracle, must still further intensify this interest if the consecration has itself been attested by the Vicar of Christ on earth. Papal approval and commendation have long been accorded the total consecration to Mary by which.Marianists (members of the Society of Mary) are perpetually professed in the religious state. This year, especially, seems a most fitting time to explain this reli-gious consecration, for the Marianists are celebrating their American Centennial and anticipating two more centennials for next year-- that of the death of their saintly Founder, Very Reverend William Joseph Chaminade, and that of the foundation of their first American school, the University of Dayton. A further appropriate circum-stance is the recent arrival in America of the Daughters of Mary, a congregation of Sisters also founded by Father Chaminade and sharing with the Marianists the same total consecration to Mary by the vows of religion. This article is a small part of the Marianist expression of grati-tude to God for those hundred years during which they have been privileged ~o make their contribution to religious life in America through the 'total consecration which Father Chaminade always called the "gift of God" to the Society. Certainly, on their part, the Marianists and the Daughters of Mary, through the wise choice of, their Founder, have received gratefully both inspiration and breadth from many other religious institutes, to the enhancement of their own religious consecration. They humbly hope that in their turn 254 CONSECRATION TO MARY they may contribute by their Marian spirit to the vitality of other religious, both men and women. It is a curious circumstance that Father Chaminade founded the Marianists one hundred years before the Fatima miracle, even to the month. He had been waiting twenty long years in Bordeaux for the sign evidently foretold in revelations granted him during his exile in Saragossa at the famous shrine of Our Lady of the Pillar. That sign came off May 1, 1817, when one of his most promising young sodalists, John Lalanne, put his future entirely at the disposal of Father Chaminade. In October, 'the first seven members, repre-senting quite different walks of life, formed the new Society. They had already been consecrated to Mary as sodalists: then, desiring to belong to her more completely, they had under Father Chaminade's direction dedicated themselves to her by private vows while still living in the world. Now they prepared to give themselves totally ' by a consecration that constituted them religious, whether as priests, teaching brothers, or working brothers--the diverse categories which this new religious consecration united in harmonious social equality. To grasp the true significance of this total consecration, we must see it in the setting of Father Chaminade's full concept of religious life. To delineate this concept in all its completeness has required a family document, The Spirit of Our Foundation, over 2,000 pages in length. Hence, only a brief idea of the underlying principles can be sketched here. In the following developme.nt, quotations from the writings of Father Chaminade are taken from this family document. Father Chaminade followed the traditional concept of religious life as the state of perfection--a state constituted by the three vows, a perfegtion consisting in the highest love of God, attained through conformity with Christ, the Model sent to"men by the Father. Con-formity with Christ is an inward union by grace, a union of bein;l, an incorporation into the Mystical Body of which Christ is the Head. It is bestowed through faith and baptism and perfected by the sacra-ments, by prayer (especially mental prayer), and by the practice of virtue. In all this, with a special emphasis on the role of faith as the foundation of conformity with Christ, Father Chaminade followed the general tradition of religious life. In addition to these channels of the supernatural life, Father Chaminade stressed a prior channel, but one that is really not to be separated from them since it flows into and through them and at the same time disposes the religious to use them more perfectly. This 255 ROBERT L. KNOPP Review for Religious channel is Mary, our spritual Mother find Mediatrix of All Graces, through whom ~hrist first came to us and through whom we must therefore go to Him. To unders~;and the strong emphasis Father Chaminade laid upon this concept, we must begin with his vital grasp of Mary's part in the Incarnation, a grasp which he owed largely to St. Augustine. One of Father Chambiade's favorite thoughts was that before Mary conceived Christ in the flesh, she had conceived Him in spirit-- not, of course, in the sense that she was the source of His spiritual power, but in the sense that by her Immaculate Conception she was given a holiness so vast that, as St. John Damascene declares (It~ Dormitionero, 1, 13), by her grace she exceeded the expanse of the heavens, encompassing Him whom the whole world cannot contain. At the moment of her Immaculate Conception, then, Mary was granted by her fullness of grace such a complete participation in the life of God that she might be said to have conceived the supernatural life among men. This complete union with God was the dawn of our own redemption. For God could look down upon our race and see among us a creature whose full-blown supernatural beauty was at last worthy of His infinite love. Or rather, already dwelling in her so completely by grace, He gave that intimate spiritual union physical expression by the Incarnation. Because God Himself in His infinite wisdom had conceived from all eternity this ideal of human purit;/ informed by the fullness of His own divine life, because He had cre-ated in the midst of our race this His Immaculate Conception, because he could now find an adequate response to His divine love in a crea-ture, God became one of our race in the womb of Mary. We had lost the union of grace by the sin of Adam, committed at the solici-tation of Eve. Christ, the new Adam, most fittingly chose to win us back to God by becoming one with us at the consent of His new Eve, having been Himself won by her humble, supernatural love. It is because the Son of God has become the Son of Mary that our human race, as a race, has been united again to God, so that it is now pos-s. ible, through conformity with Christ', for each individual of our race to attain to this union with God. It is because, as the Son of Mary, Christ has become one of us that We can now become one with Him. And He has completed the winning of this divine life for us through His. lifework of redemption. His whole life was a unity comprise.d of the two great mysteries of the Incarnation and the re- 256 September, 1949 CONSECRATION TO MARY demption. By His Incarnation He took upon Himself the state of Son of Mar~/. By His redemption He acted i,n that state even unto His death as Mary's Son. And to accentuate her role as the new Eve co-operating with Him in the whole unity of His lifework of regen-erating mankind, He associated her in that work at every significant step along the way. Thus, from her arms He revealed Himself to mankind in the person of shepherds and Magi. At the Presentation He offered Himself to His heavenly Father from her arms. He spent His thirty years of preparatio.n in her company at Nazareth. Although He said His time had not yet come, He inaugurated His public life at Cana at her mere suggestion. Finally, He united her sorrow-pierced heart with His own in consummating His lifework c.n Calvary. Because Mary has been so closely associated' with Christ in the 'mysteries of the Incarnation and redemption, it is through her that we are conformed to the incarnate Redeemer. At the very moment that the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity became man in. her womb, all of us became her children, for at that moment Christ embraced us all as members of His Mystical Body. Father Chami-nade, therefore, delighted in recalling St. Augustine's teaching that Mary is the Mother of the Whole Christ, of the Body as well as of the Head: "As Jesus Christ has been conceived in the virginal womb of Mary according to nature through the operation of the Holy Ghost, so all the elect are conceived according to the spirit through faith and baptism in the womb of the tender charity of Mary" (S.F., 456). It is, then, first of all through Mary that we have been conformed with Christ in grace: "It is by her transcending grace that this Virgin Mother conceived us; in her superabounding charity she communicated to us her being of grace, which is nothing else but a participation in Christ, that all things might be consum-mated in unity: "Consummati'in unum' " (S.F., 106). As by Hi~ physical conception in the Virgin Mary the Son of God conformed Himself to our nature, so through our spiritual conception in Mary we are conformed to Christ, made. partakers of His divine nature. Having once willed to unite Himself to us through Mary, God never "repents"; He always comes to us through her. Every new grace by which our conformity with Christ is perfected, He applies to us through her mediation and distribution. Just as her motherly care of Jesus did not cease at His birth, so her motherly office toward us does not cease with our spiritual birth: "Mary nurtured Jesus in 257 ROBERT L. KNOPP' Review [or Religious His infancy and was associated in all the various stages of His life, in His death and in His resurrection; the elect attain the fullness of age, as St. Paul terms it, only in so far as Mar~" becomes in their regard what she was for Jesus" (S.F., 10.9). Hence, the more perfectly we are sons of Mary, the more perfectly we conform to Christ. For Father Chaminade this was a cardinal principle of the spir-itual life. A Christian may receive grace through the sacraments, for instance, and thereby be united to Christ without even thinking of the spiritual Mol~her who distributes to him this sacramental grace. But how much closer to the full reality and therefore how much better disposed he will be for perfect reception of the sacraments if, conscious of Mary's role, he fully submits in filial love to her work of spiritual formation: "We have all been conceived of Mary.; we must be born' of Mary and formed by Mary to the resemblance with Christ, that we may live only the life of Christ, that we may, together with Christ, as so many Christs, be Sons of Mary: "Cure Cbristo unus Christus." Following up this principle, what devo-tion, what confidence in Mary will not the director inspire . . . in order to obtain ever more by Mary . . . resemblance to Christ oper-ated by the Spirit of Christ!" (S.F., 893.) Even as did Jesus, the religious must prove his filial love of Mary by a child-like abandon-ment of himself to her care: ". the Society intends to rear each of its members as Jesus was reared by her care, after having been formed in her virginal womb" (S.F., '115). The total consecration of the religious, then, consists in a com-plete surrender of self to Mary by which the religious participates spiritually in Christ's Incarnation. Like Christ, the religious "gladly intrusts to Mary both his person and his future" (Cons'fftutions, art. 4). In the practical order, he accomplishes this by his religious profession of vows made to God through Mary as a total consecra-tion of self in a Society entirely devoted to her service. If the Society itself is hers, i~s children form her family and abandon them-selves to her by devoting themselves in loyal "family spirit" to her Society. That is why Father Chaminade could identify the religious consecration and the consecration to Mary. Lived perfectly, this total consecration consists in complete detachment from all that is not Christ; for, by placing the religious voluntarily in the state of dependence on Mary that corresponds to reality, it removes the ¯ obstacles to her free maternal action in him, rendering him pliable in 258 September, 1949 CONSECRATION TO MARY bet hands so that she may form him, both directly through her power of mediation and indirectly through her Society, to the like-ness of the Model she knows so well---bet First-born: ". her entire ambition is that all the children whom her charity has brought forth after Him, be so united to Him, that with Him they may be but one Son, one and the same Jesus Christ" (S.F,, 440). But this total consecration demands of us not only the passivity of surrender; it also demands the activity of conquest. Christ, the Son of God become the Son of Mary, is our Model not only ~n being but also in acting, not only in His Incarnation, but also in His redemption. Since a man acts according to his nature, in the measure that he partakes of Christ's being he also partakes of His action. Religious life, then, especially as Father Chaminade con-ceived it, must also be considered a.s conformity to Christ in His activity through imitation of His virtues. Conscious effort to increase this conformity of action is also a meritorious means for perfecting the essential conformity of being. It is ordinarily in this area of imitating Christ's virtues that we find religious institutes differing in that wide and beauteous variety that fills up those things otherwise wanting to the Mystical Body of Christ. For as St. ~Fbomas quotes Abbot Nesteros: " . . . it is impossible that one and the same man should excel,in all the virtues at once, since if he endeavor to practice them equally, he will of necessity, while trying to attain them all, end in acquiring none of them perfectly" (II-II, q. 189, a. 8). Hence,. different religious institutes select different virtues of Christ upon which to center their attention. Since the teaching of Christ Himself, charity has been universally accepted as the greatest of the virtues. It is the tradition of religious-life, therefore, to see the charity of Christ's redemptive action as His outstanding virtue, manifesting first His love for His heavenly Father, then His love for all mankind. Differences arise from_~the various expressions of. this charity of Christ, whether through His obedience, His poverty, His mortification, or some other special virtue. It was typical of Father Cbaminade to see the most complete expression of these two loves of Christ in His filial love of Mary. She is for Him the embodiment of the divine authority, so that He can subject Himself to His Father only by being subject to her, and He can please His Father only by giving her the most complete filial 259 ROBERT L. KNOPP Reoiew for Reli'gious lo~'e; since Jesus owes "His body solely to her body from which alone the Holy Ghost formed it, she concentrates upon her Son the rights and the duties of both a father and a mother" (S.F., 119). And as the greatest of all mankind, she won from Him the greatest share of His infinite love for men. She won His love long before He became man. Back in eternity she was His Immaculate Conception, playing before Him at all times, even as He laid the foundations of the world. It was she whom He chose out of all mankind and filled with grace to become His Mother in the Incarna-tion and His Spouse in the redemption. Fundamentally, 'Christ's love for His Father and for man'kind finds its perfect expression in His. love for Mary not only because she is His own chosen Mother, but also because she is His chosen.means and associate for the who!e work of redemption. He was able to act as our Redeemer because' of her. Jesus Christ, the Son of God, became the Son of Mary for the salvation of mankin~l: "Qui propter nos homines et propter nostram salutem descendit de coetis, et incarnatus est de Spiritu Sancto ex Maria Virgine, et homo factus est." That is why Father Chaminade declared: "Jesus Christ prac-ticed every virtue in the highest degree of perfection. But of those virtues one which particularly entered into the accomplishment of His adorable mysteries was His love for the most holy Virgin, in whose bosom He was conceived and lived for nine months, and of whom He v~as born, who was associated with Him in all His mys-teries and who was made Mother of all those who were to be regen-erated in Him" (S.F., 440). .And therefore Father Chaminade found this filial love of Mary to be the "most salient feature" in Christ's life, the virtue by which Christ realized His desire for a life of activity devoted to His Father's Will for the salvation of man-kind. Redemption was the act of His state of Son of Go~(, but it was likewise the fulfillment of His being Son of Mary. For the man, then, who has embraced the religious state as son of Mary, zeal for the glory of God and the salvation of souls must embrace his whole activity. And therefore, in his filial love for Mary, he finds the perfect inspiration, expression, and embodiment of his love for God and for men. Father Cbaminade's deep conviction in the all-embracing value of this filial piety was rooted in his firm belief in Mary's central position in Christ's whole work of redemption. Moreover, like St. Grignion de Montfort, whose True Devotion to Mary was 260 September, 1949 CONSECRATION TO MARY unfortunately still hidden from the world, he was absolutely con-vinced that God had entrusted to Mary the leadership in the battle to overthrow Satan and re-establish the reign of Christ. On at least five solemn occasions he referred this mission of Mary especially to modern times. In 1839, for instance,, nineteen yearsbefore Lourdes, he ~nade this thought the very core of his long letter to the priests who were to conduct the annual retreats of the Society. Describing in vivid language the tremendous evils wrought in the world by ,religious indifference and secularism, so like those of our own day, be foresaw the loss of the masses that we are now trying to cope With, "a general defection and an apostasy really all but universal." But he was not discouraged: "Mary's power is not diminished. We firmly believe that she will overcome this heresy as she has overcome all others, because she is today, as she was formerly, the incompa-rable Woman, the promised Woman who was to crush the serpent's head: and desus Christ in never addressing her except by this sublime name, teaches us that she is the hope, the joy, and the life of the Church and the terror of hell. To her, therefore, is reserved a gre~t victory in our day: hers will be the glory of saving the faith from the shipwreck with which it is threatened among us.'" (S.F'., 101.). It was because of this firm faith in the leadership of Mary in the modern world, a faith that Lourdes and Fatima among a host of lesser apparitions have since strikingly vindicated, that Father Chami-nade enthusiastically called upon his spiritual children to realize in themselves the full valor of their knighthood: "We have enlisted under her banner as her soldiers., to assist her with all our strength until the end of our life, in her noble struggle against the powers of hell." (Ibid.) Such a dynamic ideal demands direct apostolic action, universal and intense, like the redemptive action of the first Son of Mary. Though the Society at present devotes itself chiefly to the education of youth, it is but applying Father Chaminade's principle of employing "means best adapted to the needs and spirit of the times" (S.F., 53). For such was the bigb dedication to which he called his children that they must labor with all their strength, not just to win Christians, b~t to "multiply Christians." And so, even as the knights of old dedicated themselves by their chivalrous vows, Father Cbaminade would have his modern knights. with ~'Maria Ducet." as their battle cry, vow a total consecration of themselves, to Mary their Queen and Mother: "She communicates to 261 ROBERT L. KNOPP Review for Religious us her own zeal and entrusts to us the projects ~vhich are inspired by her almost infinite charity, and we . . . vow to serve her faithfully till the end of our iife, to carry out punctually all that she'tells us. We are glad that we can thus spend in her service the life and strength that we have pledged to her." (Ibid.) To give this total consecration concrete expression in the religious profession itself, Father Chaminade added to poverty, chastity, and obedience, a fourth vow, stability, to which he specifically attached the meaning of consecration to Mary. This vow of stability, byl which the religious is constituted a Marianist forever, is officially described in the Constitutions as the vow by which the religious "intends to constitute himself permanently and irrevocably fn the state of a servant of Mary, of her to whom the Society is especially consecrated. This vow is, in reality, a consecration to the Blessed Virgin, with the pious design of making her known and of perpetu-ating love and devotion to her." (Art. 55.) This vow really expresses, therefore, the formal motive for embracing the Marianist life: ". it is in the name of Mary and for her glory that we embrace the religious life; it is in order to conse-crate ourselves, all that we h~ve and are, to her to make her known, loved, and served, in the intimate conviction that we shall not briw,~ men back to Jesus except through His most holy Mother, because with the hol~z Doctors we believe, that she is our only hope-- tota ratio spei no.~trae--our Mother. our refuge, our help, our strength, and our life" (S.F., 101). ' Consequently, by constituting the religious state itself, this vow of stability inspires, expresses, and effects conformity both with Christ's incarnate being and with His redemptive action, investing all the elements of re.ligious life with a special Marian significance. The three traditional vows, for instance, :partake of its character by stripping the religious, like another Incarnation, of all that he for-merly was or had. Thus, 'poverty imitates Christ who divested Himself of all His divine wealth to confide in Mary's care; it releases the religious from all l~aterial goods that he may be radically at the disposition of his spiritual Mother. .Chastity imitates the virginal integrity of Christ, Son of the Virgin of virgins; it releases the reli-gious from the ties of wife and family that he may present himself inviolate for the total service of his Immaculate Mother. Obedience imitates the loving subjection Of Christ to His Mother; by it the religious renounces his own will that he may follow hers, trans- 262 September, 1949 CONSECRATION TO MARY mitted to him by his superior, according to her word, "Do whatever he tells you." Since by these three vows the Marianist views the Soci(ty as Mary,'s property, its members as her sons, and its superiors as her representatives, he finds in his total consecration a very real counterpart of the Incarnation by which Christ completely sur-rendered Himself to Mary's motherhood. If he is wholly faithful to his state, he no longer lives, but Christ lives in him, returned again to earth, become again the Son of Mar'y for the salvation of mankind. And consequently, by acting according to his consecra-tion to Mary, loving her, obeying her, honoring her, confiding in her, living'with her, resemb!ing her, and especially assisting ~her ia her mission to .save the modern world, the religious finds his conse-crated activity a real counterpart of the redemption by which Christ sacrificed Himself entirely out of love for His Father and for mankind. If space permitted, the other elements of religious life by which the Marianist enters into this redemptive activity of Christ might be developed in great detail. Here, only a few indications of the practical implications of this total consecration may be presented. The Fatima visions suggest that cgnsecration to Mary must involve, special stress on prayer and sacrifice as redemptive instruments. It is not at all surprising, then, that Father Cbaminade should have laid great emphasis upon mental prayer, which he characteristically taught as union with Jesus and Mary in the mysteries of the Creed, the very goal of the rosar)~ as presented to Lucy in the final Fatima vision. He prescribed a full hour of formal mental prayer for all his reli-gious, no matter how actively engaged, and he constantly insisted on a "spirit of faith and of mental prayer" by which the whole day, encased between morning and evening meditations, is spent with Jesus and Mary in the presence of God and thereby becomes a con-tinual mental prayer, a prayer of the heart fixed in God rather than of the mind straining for considerations. With this in mind, be could write in the Constitutions: ". the more a, religious devotes himself to this exercise, the more he approaches his end . con-formity with Jesus Christ" (S.F., 247). And this prayer-life is so intimately bound up with the apostolic consecration that in the second article of his Constitutions Father Chaminade clearly stated his design to combine "the advantages of the active life with those of' the contemplative, to attain the ends of both." In that same article, he stressed the sacrifice that Fatima leads us 263 ROBERT L. KNOPP to expect: "The Society designs, 'as far as God will aid it, to unite zeal with abnegation . " Concerning this abnegation, or sacrifice, Father Chaminade was as emphatic as with prayer: i'.The Savior of the world came as a victim, He lived in privations, He died in sor-rows; the same sword pierced the heart of His . . . Mother. No better lot can befall the disciple and the child his Master and his Mother. The professed, as a victim, is not surprised at the privations to try him . he considers himself all than that of resembling regarding himself, then, by which it pleases God the days of his life as fastened to the cross, in order to continue., the oblation and sacri-fice of, desus Christ." (Art. 173-4.) aust as in the life of Christ the redemptive work itself was sacrifice, so the Marianist is to find his daily cross chiefly in the trials, fatigues, and difficulties inherent in a life of intense apostolic activity. Moreover, this self-sacrifice must consist principally in the interior self-denial of humility, simple and sincere, like that of ,lesus and Mary. Such, in briefest outline, is the conformity with Christ, S6n of God become Son of Mary for the salvation of mankind, that this total consecration of filial love for Mary expresses and effects. If. however, in order to be fully realized this consecration demands the religious profession, nothing prevents the faithful in the world'from embracing its spirit as completely as their state of life permits. It is to be expected, then, that Marianists hold as their "work of predi-lection" the spreading of this spirit of filial consecration to Mary among their own students, and through them to the world at large, by such means as the establishment and maintenance of sodalities, always intensely apostolic. Before Fatima and after it, Marianists have always held as their inmost conviction, the fruit of their own 'life-experience, that the world can be restored to Christ only through Mary. In this year of their American Centennial, they dedicate themselves anew to this work of bringing men to consecrate their lives to Mary, not merely in word but in being and in act-- in prayer and in sacrifice. 264 Books as Spirit:ual Direc!:ors J. H. Dunn, O.R.S.A. ~N PIONEER DAYS the early settlers of this country had a phrase which showed a nice blend of confidence in God and self-reliance: "Trust. in God and keep your po.wder dry." A religious of today might well make one small change, inspired by modern technological progress, and use that same phrase as a watchword in his own spiritual life: "Trust in God and keep your battery charged." Certainly one of the best means to keep the battery of zeal for increased perfection charged is spiritual reading. No one can deny its imperative necessity in the daily life of a religious; so much so, that progress in perfection is, to a large extent, contingent upon daily use of this important means of advancing in sanctity. Spir-itual reading is, then, one of the best means that a religious has for charging his spiritual batteries. But spiritual reading can be made to serve another end. When necessity demgnds, it can be used as a means of spiritual direction. Books can be substituted for men. About seven years ago, the REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS published a series of articles on spiritual direction that gave rise to a discussion which furnished a very good survey of its state in contemporary American religious life. At that time, it seemed to be the consensus among religious that adequate spiritual direction was a felt need in many communities. No doubt, the situation has changed but little since those articles and letters were written. What, then, is the religious to do who with all the good will in the world cannot find someone to act as spiritual director? It is the opinion of the author that, when every opportunity for human help has been canvassed and found wanting, the religious may with a .clear conscience turn to the next most perfect means of spiritual direction--books. In such a case as this spiritual reading can be used not only as a battery-charging agent, but as a generator and, some-times, as a mechanic. Spiritual reading can be used to supply an incentive to higher things and to fix up a "stalled" religious so that he can go on. After all, the spiritual .director has a twofold task--to give advice that will help or keep a person out of difficulties and, What is 265 J. H. DUNN Review for Religious far more important, to spur him on to h!gher things. Now if there is no director at hand, spiritual reading can be used to fulfill both these ends. In the matter of difficfilties to be solved there is probably no religious who will think that his particular problems are unique. It stands to reason, therefore, that most questions are answered some-where in print. The only problem is to find the right book. Any large work covering the spiritual life extensively will serve such a need as this. Christiar~ PerFection by Father Rodriguez leaves little untouched in the matter of spirituality. Many difficulties can be solved by articles in back numbers of the REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Such works as these bare the one drawback--that it is sometimes hard to find what is needed quickly or easily because of inadequate indexing, dr because of improperly filed back numbers. On the other hand, such a work as Tanquerey's Spiritual LiFe is excellent in this respect. It.is sufficiently extensive to handle any problem that might arise in the. normal religious life, and it is well enough indexed to enable the reader to find a solution in a matter of seconds. It may be objected that such books as these will serve only for beginners in religion or for those who are not far advanced in per-fection but .will be of little or no use to those who have to contend with the complications characteristic of the higher reaches of sanc-tity. It is certainly true that the problems which arise in the later stages of the spiritual life are more personalized than earlier ones, but that does not mean that the broad general principles upon which such problems must be solved have not been fully .expounded in numerous spiritual books. Father Garrigou-Lagrange, for instance, in his Three Ages oF the Interior LiFe offers a sharply delineated plan of spirituality, extending as far as a man can hope to go and treating almost every difficulty that could arise. St. Teresa cannot fail to be helpful; and few problems are met in striving for the ultimate in divine union that have not been anticipated by St. John of the Cross. Besides, anyone who has progressed so far in perfection with-out a spiritual director may surely hope without presumption that God will continue to help him to bring the work to ultimate success. It is in the second phase of the spiritual director's work, that of spurring a person to higher striving arid keeping him going, that spiritual reading really comes into its own. In this respect there are some things that books can do even better than men; they can be more severe, for instance, and they are more patient at repeating 266 September, 1949 BOOKS AS SPIRITUAL DIRECTORS what needs to be said over and over. Nor can it be validly objected that many technical books will be needed if the printed page is to be used as a substitute for the living voice. A few good books will do the job and do it well. If in an ordinary novel the reader can find new matter at a second or even a third perusal, the same will certainly bold true of spiritual books. In this respect it_is important to note, even to insist upon, one point. However else a religious uses hi~ time for stfiritual reading, he must choose books which are a challenge. The time spent in spiritual reading should never be spent with books that might be called in Mark Twain's phrase, "flowers and flapdoodle." Espe-cially is this true if these same spiritual reading books must perform at least some of the functions of a spiritual director. Books that are to help religious souls to overcome their diffi-culties and urge them on to greater perfection--books that are to encourage them when they are in danger of stopping their progress through human frailty or going astray through ignorance of the way, must be carefully graded. A novice who could be helped by Gehon's Secret of the Saints wouldoonly be discouraged or bewil-dered by Tb~ Ascent of Mount Carmel. A person who might be helped immeasurably by Saudreau's Life of Union with God would no longer need Leen's Progrdss Through Mental Prayer. Each must choose for himself according to his own need, but it would certainly be folly to expect Saint Among Savages to be conducive to progress for someone who has long ago reached a measure of union with God. The book is fine, though, for a novice who must be weaned from comic books. A religious, then, who finds blmself without the help of a spir-itual director need not, because of that fact, give up all hope of spir-itual direction. That same religious would be the first to insist that God would take care of him somehow. What is more natural than that He should do so by means of help that is always at hand, the help of spiritual books? One who has tried by every possible means to get spiritual direction, yet, cannot find it, may turn with perfec~ confidence to those spiritual books which will keep his battery charged. 267 ommun{cal:{ons Who May "Follow Him"? Reverend Fathers: It is not without a coi~siderable degree of temerity that I even attempt a reply to Sister Mary Digna's scholarly article, "That God's Will be Better Known," published in the 3uly issue of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. However, as it deals with a subject of paramount importance to fill religious orders, I would like to express what is a purely personal'reaction to the article. Let me begin by saying that I definitely do not approve of any diagnostic tests being given to a candidate on admission to a nov;- tiate or at any time during the novitiate training period. In the first place, any of these tests--that is: I.Q., aptitude, per-sonality, or emotional reaction tests--are vary likely to defeat their purpose not only by failing to give accurate information about an applicant to religious life but also by conveying actual ~nisinforma-tion. What was this novitiate period for many of us? Wasn't it a time when our hearts almost broke with homesickness, when every fibre of our being was taut and strained in an effort to adjust our-selves to a mode of life different in almost every detail from the old one left bebin:d? Might not the score, of a diagnostic test be very different .just a few years later when, as a professed religious, one has achieved a serenity and poise that is seldom compatible with a period of grave adjustment? Secondly, should not even a reasonably' capable master or mis-tress of novices be able to know fairly accurately, after two or three years of constant companionship and supervision, something of the intelligence, aptitudes, and emotional reactions of the novices? But, one may object, this purely subjective opinion should at least be supplemented by a purely objective score. Maybe so, but remember that in this case the subjective verdict is frequently based on years of experience with young novices and also on a knowledge of the spe-cific needs and requirements of a particular congregation. In regard to that typ_e of emotional reaction test designed to convey information concerning impulses and emotions of the sex instinct, I will admit that there may be factors involved here with which I am not familiar. That any anomaly along this line cer-tainly makes one an unfit subject for religious life is unquestionable. But again, I am willing to place this too in the hands of a shrewd, 268 COMMUNICATIONS alert, and spiritually wise master, or mistress of novices. "I'o boil it all down--isn't this idea of injecting these various tests into our novitiates find religious communities merely an unneces-sary form of secularization? Doesn't it tend to overlook a little the tremendous power of divine grace operating in a soul seeking to serve God? The use of a "natural aptitude" test whiCh would tend to prevent a superior from placing a "round peg in a square hole" might also undervalue the tremendous power of a work done in simple obedience. Certainly the religious literally writhing under an unpleasant, distasteful employment has infinitely more-opportunity to follow the divine precept to "take up your cross daily" than she who is happily and efficiently employed in a work agreeable to nature. What were the requirements stipulated by the first Novice Master on the shore ~f Galilee? Just the briefly stated "Come, ~ollow Me." But oh, the infinite possibilities for courage, sanctity, and even ultimate martyrdom contained in those three simple" words! Would not a modern psychologist be rather gravely concerned over the prob-able I.Q. of James and John, who were obtuse enough to hope for an earthly kingdom from a carpenter's Son? What would a present-day psychiatrist think of the apparent emotional instability of Peter who in one exultant outburst cried out, "Thou art Christ, the Son of the living God," and then, not so long afterwards, muttered mis-erably to an illiterate barmaid, "I know not the Man"? But Christ knew what patient training could accomplish with His novices, and ¯ He took them for what they were Worth and in spite of their weak- ~esses. In conclusion, may I ask what one of us in religion would like to feel that a Mission a~ssigned or an employment given was in any way the result of tests administered perhaps years ago in one's novitiate days? What infinitely greater security there would be in knowing that an obedience had been given after a provincial or Other superior had knelt humbly before Christ in the tabernacle and with a fervent, heartfelt "Veni, Sancte Spiritus'" begged for guidance in placing her subjects. The religious then accepts her charge, whatever it may be, knowing it to be sanctified by obedience, fortified by faith, and ulti-mately made the "sweet yoke" and "burden light" because of that burning love for her Divine Bridegroom which had made it possible for her to "leave all things and follow Him." --SISTER MARY OF ST. GERTRUDE, R.G.S. 269 .uesE ons and Answers 35 Is it possible to gain ~he "tofies quoties" indulgence for the Poor Souls on November 2nd in a prlvafe chapel in which Mass is said daily but which is usedoonly by religious? This chapel is part of parish church It will be' well to explain the meaning of private oratory before answering our question. Before the Code of Canon Law was pro-mulgated in 1917, it was customary tocall the ordinary chapels of religious communities either domestic chapels or private chapels. Now the Code defines a private o'r domestic chapel ~s one erected in a pri-vate house in favor of a family or private lay person; whereas the chapel erected for the benefit of a community or group of the faithful is called a semi-public chapel. Of higher rank are public chapels and churches (see canon 1188). Generally speaking, the chapels in reli-gious communities are semi-public chapels. The officiai book on indulgences, Preces et Pia Opera, states spe-cifically under No. 544 that the indulgences for the Poor Souls may be gained by the, faithful on November 2nd "as often as they visit a church or public oratory or (for those who may legitimately use it) a semi-public oratory." Again, in an introduction which explains some general prin-ciples about indulgences, this same official text states under No. 4 that when a visit to a church is required it may be made "to a church, or to a public chapel, or (for those having the legitimate use of it according to canon 929) to a semi-public oratory." Religious, the.refore, may, make all "required~ visits t~ a church" in their own chapels according to the conditions laid down in canon 929: "The faithful of either sex who, for the pursuit of religious per-fection, or' for education, or for health's sake, live a common life in houses established with the consent of. the ordinaries, but which have no church or public chapel [of their own], and likewise all persons ¯ who live in the same place for the purpose of ministering to them, whenever a visit to any unspecified church or public oratory is pre- ~ scribed for gaining irli:lulgences, may m'ake the visit in :the~h~pel of their own house where they can legitimately satisfy the obligation of hearing Mass, provided that they duly perform the other works prescribed." 270 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS We may, therefgre, conclude that religious who legitimately enjoy the benefit of a semi-public chapel, may make whatever visits are required for gaining indulgences in their own chapel, even though there is a parish church nearby, provided that it is not required that a determined church be visited. If a specit~c church or public oratory is prescribed for the visit, then it cannot be made in the community chapel but must be made ifi the church or public chapel specified. m3b--. We have fwd years 'of novitiate. The reception is held on August !2th, and two years later, on the same date, the novices take their vows. Is this in accordance with canon law, or should the vows be fa~en on the 13th of August after the completion of the two years of novitiate? Canon 555, § 2 tells us that if the constitutions prescribe more than a year for the novitiate, the extra time is not required for valid-ity unless the same constitutions expressly declare otherwise. There-fore, unless your constitutions expressly declare t~at the second year of novitiate is required t~or oalidit~t of the subsequent vows, you need have no worries about the past. As for the future, it is a probable opinion, which may be fol-lowed in practice, that, if the constitutions prescribe two years of novitiate but do not expressly require the second year for validity, the profession of t.emporary vows may be validly and licitly made on the same calendar day on which the habit was received or the novi-tiate begun (See Larraona, Commentarium pro Religiosis, 1942, p. 16, note 973; Schaefer, De Religiosis, ed. 4, 1947, p. 513, n. 906). Hence you many continue your. practice of having the reception on August 12th and of allowing the novices to take their vows two years later on August 12th. According to our constitutions, to be elected superior general the candidate must obtain half the votes plus one. We have been following 3ardi's system of voffn9 (El Derecho de las Religlosas, Vich, 1927, articles 2:~0-242), namely, the name of the candidate is written in the cen-ter of the ballot. The ballot is then signed by the voter at the bottom: and the signature sealed. In case a candidate receives exactly one vote more than half, all the ballots in his favor are opened and the signatures examined in order to make certain that the candidate has not voted for h~mself'thus~ making the election null and vold. This method of procedure 271 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Reoieto for Religious has .been severely criticized as being contrary to the spirit of the law, if not contrary to the letter. Please give us your opinion in thematter. The manner of election suggested by Father Jardi, which you follow, is the manner prescribed by Pope Pius X for the election the Holy Father by the cardinals. There is one difference, however, to which Father Jardi obviously did not advert. In the papal elec-tion, each cardinal, after signing and sealing his name at the bottom of the ballot, put on theoutside of the sealed part a secret symbol (three numbers, three letter~, a drawn image, etc.) which is known to him, to the presiding officer, ~nd to the scrutators alone. Then in case a cardinal received exactly two-thirds of the votes, his personal oote alone would be opened to make sure that he had not voted for himself. It was not necessary to open all the votes of all those who voted for him, since his vote was recognized by his cryptic symbol. It would certainly be contrary to the spirit of the canons of the Code regarding elections to open all the ballots of those who voted for a candidate in order to find out whether the candidate had voted for himself, since to do so would embarrass at least half of the voters. I do not think that it wc.uld make the election invalid, becausethe informaticn is given to those who are bound to secrecy. As a matter of fact, in a recent constitution of December 8, 1944, Pope Pius XII revised the method of electing a pope, especially the r~oi~t in ~,uestion. A vote of two-thirds of the ballots plus one is now required for a valid election; and the cardinals are no longer obliged to sign their ballots, since this provision makes it unnecessary to inquire whether the person elected voted for himself or not. In conclusion I would suggest that you change your constitutions by dropping the obliga~.ion of .having the members of the chapter sign their ballots, annd by requiring that the candidate must obtain two votes more than half the ballots cast. In this way it will always be certain that the candidate received at least one more than half the votes, even though he voted for himself. These changes will have to be approved by the Holy See, if your congregation has papal approval; or by all the bishops in whose territory you hav~ houses, if you are a diocesan congregation. .38 when it is found necessary to change some of the "legal articles" in the constitutions of a religious community, does that give the liberty fo 272 September, 1949 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS make changes in the prayers and other spiritual articles confMned in the same consfifutions? Some think that it does; others maintain that the original constitutions should be adhered to as much as possible. When the Code of Canon Law was promulgated in 1917, it became necessary for all religious institutes to revise their constitu-tions to bring them into conformity with the new laws of the Church. I.suppose that is what our questioner refers to when he speaks of "legal articles." As a matter of fact, the Sacred Congrega-tion of Religious issued a declaration on October 26, 1921, stating that "the text of the constitutions is to be amended only in those things in which the constitutions are opposed to the Code; or, if it is a case of deficiency, additions may be nhade; and as far aspossible the words of the Code itself are to be used." The same declaration, how-ever, made allowance for other changes also, provided that "the pro-posed changes have been discussed and approved by the General Chapter." In the new Normae (A.A.S. 13-317), which the Sacred Congre-gation has drawn up for itself as a guide in the approval of new constitutions, it recommends that all formularies of prayers as well as longer ascetical instructions, spiritual exhortations, and mystical considerations be put into the directory or some other such ascetical book, "since the constitutions shduld contain only the constitutive laws of a congregation as well as the directive laws of the actions of the community, whether those pertaining to government, or those pertaining to discipline and the norm of life." This does not mean that all ascetical articles are to be excluded, because the Normae state explicitly that "brief statements regarding the spiritual and religious life are opportune" in the constitutions. To answer our question: For all changes in the constitutions of a religious institute: the permission of the Holy See is required in the case of a pontifical institute; that of all the bishops in whose diocese the institute has houses in the case of a diocesan institute. These changes should be discussed and voted upon in a general chapter before being submitted to the proper authority for approval. The mind of the Church is that the constitutions of religious institutes should not contain formularies, such as prayers, daily order, and so forth. These should be put into the custom book or director3~, or some such similar book. 273 BOOK REVIEWS Religious Does the chaplain have the r;cjht fo say the funeral Mass and hold the exequles for a deceased religlous Sister of the house where he is chaplain? The common opinion, both before and after the Code, held tha~ nuns ("rnoniales") were exempt from parochial jurisdiction; hence, before the Code the chaplain alone had all the parochial powers in their behalf; but after the Code these powers were divided between the chaplain and the confessor (see canons 514, § 2 and 1230, § 5). In the case of nuns not exempt from the local o~din, ary's jurisdic-tion, the chaplain's powers under canon 1230, § 5 were questioned: but the Code Commission, on January 31, 1942, decided that even in this case the right to conduct the funeral of the nuns belonged to the chaplain, and not to the parish priest. Other lay religious (Sisters---not nuns)are subject to canon 1230, § 1, that is, the pastor has the right to conduct their funerals unless the local ordinary has granted the community exemption from the jurisdiction of the pastor in conformity with canon 464, § 2. In this latter case the chaplain, not the pastor, has the right to conduct the funerals of the members of the community. took Reviews THE LITTLE OFFICE OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN. By a Master of Novices. Pp. x -}- 431. The Newman Press, Westminster, Maryland, 1948. $3.50. Priests, religious, and laity alike will welcome this new edition of The Little ONce of the Blessed Virgin. In this ~-olume is contained an explanation of the origin and history of the Office, a chapter on attention and intention, and one on the rubrics. This latter chapter is especially helpful in solving the difficulties that may arise in the recitation of the Office. The procedure to be followed for each of the hours is carefully outlined in detail. Following these introductory chapters, the Office itself follows. On one side of the page the Latin text is given, and parallel to that on the opposite page is an English translation. Directions are given at the beginning of each hour. It is to be regretted that in making this new edition the publishers did not avail themselves of the new approved translation of the Psalms and that the Pater, Ave, and 274 September, 1949 BOOK REVIEWS Credo in Latin were omitted. Surely everyone knows the English version of these prayers; but for those who are required to recite the Office in Latin, the Latin version is essential. One of the finest parts of the.book is the commentary that fol-lows the Office proper. The greater part of the commentary is taken from the Mirror of Ot~r L'adg. This commentary not only sup-plies an explanation of the prayers of the Little Office, but also provides excellent topics for contemplation. It is full, complete, beautiful, and reverent. Explanations in praise of the Blessed .Vir-gin by the great St. Bernard and many of the other outstanding saints are interspersed throughout the commentary. Finally, in an appendix, is given the Office of the Dead, and also the new Office for November 2. This little book is certainly to be recommended to those religious who must recite the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin according to rule. It will certainly help one to acquire a deeper understanding of the Office, and lead to greater reverence and devotion. -~L. 3ANSEN, S.J. THE VEIL UPON THE HEART. By George Byrne, S.d. Pp. viii -f- 103. The Newman Bookshop, Westminster, Maryland, 1947. $2.25. This booklet of essays on prayer from the penetrating pen of an Irish ,lesuit will be read with relish by saint as well as by sinner. Scripture texts worn from use take on a newness that only a man of prayer can put into them, for example: "There is no better commen-tary on the nature of prayer and its efficacy than the meeting of the virgin disciple and the impure woman in a supreme act of divine faith: 'T

Issue 7.6 of the Review for Religious, 1948. ; Review for ReHgio NOVEMBER 15, 1948 Assisting at Mass .'-. Cla'rence McAul;ffe ~Distractions in Mental Prayer . c.A. Herbsf On S÷ayin9 in Love . Richard Leo Heppler Loving the Neigi~bor . Gera~a. Ke'y Doc÷Hne of. St. John of he Cross" ¯ . J.E. Breun;g Book Reviews Communications . .Questions Answered Annual Index VOLUME VII ~ NUMBER .6 VOLFdMI] VlI NOVEMBER, 19478 NUMBER 6 CONTENTS PAP.AL DIRECTIVES FOR ASSISTING. AT MASS-- Clarence McAuliffe, S.,I . 281 DISTRACTIONS IN MENTAL ~RAYER--C. A. Herbst, S.,l. , 290 OUR CONTRIBUTORS . 294 ON 8TAYING IN LOVE~Riehard Leo Heppler, O.F.M . 29~ ANEW EDITION OF NEWMAN . 298 C~N THE DUTY OF LOVING THE NEIGHBOR, ESPECIALLY ENEMIES--Gerald Kelly, S.J, 299 THE DOCTRINE OF ST. JO~-IN OF THE CROSS--J. E. Breunig, S'.3,. 313 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS~ ! 42. Use of Interest from Dowries and Legacies for Community Pur-posea . , ¯ ~ ." . 321 43. Common Life and Recreational Travel . . . ~ . 321 44. Retirement Age for Superiors~ . . ¯ 321 45. Ro~ary~Indulgences, Mysteries, and Literature . ". . . 322 COMMUNICATIONS . 327 BOOK REV'IEWS~ Exile Ends in Glory; Souls at Stake . , ¯ ¯ 324 Book NOTICES" ¯ . 326 A REPRINT ~ERIES---MAYBE! . ~ . 331 ANNU.AL INDEX ~ . ., . . 333 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, November. 1948~ Vet. VII, No. 6, Published bi-monthly; January, March. Mair, July, September, and November at the College Press, ~606 Harrison Street,-Topeka, Kansas, by St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas, with ecclesiastical approbation. Entered as sec0rid class matte~ January ~1-5, 1942, at the Post Otiice, Topeka, Kansas, under the act of March 3, 1879. Editoriai Board: Adam C. Ellis, S.J., G. Augustine Ellard, S.d., Gerald Kelly, S.J. Editorial Secretary; Alfred F. Schneider, S.,l. Copyright, 1948/by Adam C. Eliis. Permission is hereby granted for quotations of reasonable length, provided due credit be~ given "this review and the author. Subscriptiott price: 2 dollars .a year. Printed in U. S. A. Before wrlflncj tO us, please consult, notice on lee|de, beck cover. Papal Directives t:or Assisting al: Mass Clarence McAuliffe, S.2. ~| T IS, THEREFORE, Venerable Brethren, proper for all Cath-olics to realize that participation in the Eucharistic Sacrifice is for them an urgent duty and a lofty dignity. This participa-tion is not achieved if their minds are torpid, .unconcerned, distracted and daydreaming. On the contrary, so, fervent and active should be their mental application that they will become, intimately united with their High Priest (Christ). Together with,Him and through Him they should offer the ,Mass, and along.with Him they should consecrate themselves (to God)." Th~se words were penned by our Holy Father, Plus XII, in his memorable dncyclical "Mediator Dei"' of November, 1947.~ They furnish a compendious sketch 6f the internal spirit which all Cath-olics, and especially religiofis and 15riests," should foster at every Mass. This inteinal spirit is etched";2~ith greater preCision-in 'otl~er sections bf the encyclical. Nor does ~the POntiff rest satisfied with an expla-nation of the internal spirit-'6nly. He also'becomes quite, detailed regard'ing various external ways of as?isting at Mass. It should prove 15fin~ficial~for the spiritual lives of reade?s of ~he i~EVlEW and of those with-whom they deal, to summarize and explain the,papal directives in this important matter. ¯ - ° It" should be ~noted first of all that, just as in all prayer, so at Mass, the internal spirit of those present is~vastly more important than the external manner of participation, The Holy Father ins_ists on' this principle _in various paragraphs of the encyclical. Indeed,, he . points out, as we 'shall indicate later, that the-external ways of par-ticipation may~ vary ~but that the internal spirit: should re.main con-stant. It is uniform; it applies to. all the particip~ants, t~o~ugh i~o will be realizeffdn°diverse degrees.according to the~graces~,kngw~ledge, _a.nd circumstances, of each individual. The same internal .spirit .s.bou_ld pervade the Low Mass as well as the High Mass: it shou~/~d be, the goal of the sinner as well as of the saint; it should be c.uJtiga~ted regardless of one's subjective moods. The~ external participation, whatever form it takes, has but one chief purpose-~-to foster_ the 281 CLARENCE MCAULIFFE Reoieto ¢or Religious proper internal dispositions of the participant. But what are these internal dispositions? After answering this .question in a gener~al way, the Holy Father particularizes. As ~egards' the general" answer, he says that participants in the Mass should endeavor to arouse in themselves the same internal spirit which animated Christ" Himself when He was immolated on Cal-vary. This idea is fundamental: and the Pontiff expressly declares it when he says that ~the' Mass "demands' of all Cl~istiahs ~that they imbue their souls with the same affections; insbfar as it lies in human power, that permeated the soul of the Divine Redeeme~ when He made the sacrifice of Himself." It Will not~.be difficult to understand the reason f6r this cardinal dire~tivi if~we recall two dogmatic principles about the Mass. First, the Mass is not-only a" memorial, but an actual unbloody repetition, bf Calvary. SeCond, the Savior, both bn Calvary and at each Mass, does not offer for Himself, but for us. He represents"the entire human family, and especially those who by baptism have become members of His Mystical Body. He acts for each one of.us; He is our substi-tute: and since at every Mass He re-enacts Calvary, He therefore expeits each one of us to strive for those internal dispositions which He Himself has. Just as each member 9f a graduat.lng class, is expected to possess th~ dispositions harbored and publicly expressed by its valedictorian, or as each member of a fraternal organization should,foster the sentiments publicly proclaimed by its pres, ident in the name of all, so should each Catholic at Mass strive to nurture the dispositions of~the~,Savio~r, who in the name,of all renews the offering of Calvary at the Holy Sacrifice. 'Descending to ~details, the~Holy Father .itemizes the basic ele-ments of this intelnal spirit. It should conform to the purposes of both Calvary ancl~ the Mass. Th~se are four in number, but pre-eminent among them is the spirit of adoration. It is of faith that the Ma~s is a genuine sacrifice. Ai such it can be offered to .God alone, and itsprincipal~function:is ~o rendersto God that supreme honor th~it is du~e exclusively td'Him. To q~uote the Holy Father: "From~His birth to His. death 3esus Christ wasqnflamed ,with zezl for the advancement of God's" glory : and fkom thd cross the immola-tion Of His blood ascended to heaven in an odor of sweetness." This spirit of adoration gripped the Savior's "human soul With acute poigna.ncy while his life blood slowly ebbed away on the cross. In the same spirit He, as the principal minister, offers Himself in the 282 ASSISTING AT.~LAss tiame of allsat every Mas~.~ It is the spirit 'which all participants in the'Miss shoiild sedulously cultivate. The Mass by its very nature an~l action exi)resses God's transcendent donlination over~ mankind and'~the utter subjection of mankind .to God. Hdn~e it poitulates from all a spirit of humble adoration2 . ~ -~ ¯ Ho~v~ver, three other element_s, to mention only'~the basic .ones. entered into the Savior's disposition at-the Crucifixion. Although theie three are implicitly contained in the spirit of adoration, it would be well for participants in the Mass to make them explicit, as the Holy F~ther observes in the encyclical. Perhaps the most important Of these is the spirit of thanksgiving. God has given us, 'both as individuals and as social beings, every single thing. Strive as we may,~ w~ can n~ver tl~ank Him ade-- quately. But with theoSon of God Himself repr~seniing ~us and ~icting~ in our name oh0 Calvary and at each Mass,wit isonow ~possible for us to 6fief a worthy thanksgiving. ;That i spirit of gratitude anl-ma~ e~l ourSa¢ior's~soul on Calvary~ is clear, as the Holy Fatl~er men-tion~ s'; fiom the~fact that ~Holy Scripture:says that He "gave thanks" at the~.prepai~tory sacrifice of ~the Last "Supper. Moreover, "He continuously~ gave thanks as He hung from the crbss/'' states the Pontiff. Since, therefore, we are expected'at~each ~Mass.to foster the dispositions of Christ Himself, we too should,cultivate a spirit of gratifude . Secondly, the Mass should evoke in each participant a spirit of expiation; of reparation for 6ne's own sins and ~for those of the entire human family. ' We know that our Sa,~ior died to redeem the human race, to ransom it from the bonds of original sin and also of actual sin, so that we cotild again achieve our supern.atural, destiny. According to the Holy Father it was .for,this reason ~that our Savior "wished to be immolated on the cross~ as 'a~ propitiation for our sins, and not only .for burs, but for those of ~he whole world.' " And the Pontiff continues: "Moreover, on our altars ~He. offers.Himself d~ily for our~ redemption.so that snatched_ from eternal ruin~ we~ may be numbered among the elect." It is evident, therefore, that Our Lord botkon Calvary and in each Muss.possesses a spirit of repara-tion for sin, and the same spirit ~should~ animate us at~the Holy Sacri-fice. We should be sorry for our own shortcomings and make atone-ment for the sins and crimes of humanity., Finally, our Savior on Calvary was permeated with a spirit of impetration. He'saw how mankind, by original sin: particularly, had ,283 CLARENCE I~CAULIFFE Review [or Religious squandered the'bountiful gifts oLGodoand, to. quote the' encyclical, "had reduced itself to a state of utter poverty and indigence.','~ Not only on the cross did He beseech His heavenly Father to relieve this miserable condition, but, to quote again, "He petitions, for.us 'in'the same etficacious way upon our holy altars." Hence it is fitting that we, too, for whom He supplicates, should foster a disposition of impetration at every Mass. Adoration, thanksgiving, .reparation, petition. We must steep ourselves in these four affections at Mass if we would put 9n '.'the same affections that permeated the soul of the Divine Redeemer on Calvary." But perhaps it would be well for us to become acquainted with a reason, drawn from the very nature of the Mass itself, why this fourfold disposition should be cultivated. We must remember that the Mass is not merely a social prayer, but a social prayer in action. Moreover, it is a unique social prayer in action. After all, when the celebrant sprinkles the congregation with holy water before High Mass or when the deacon silently incenses the entire congrega-tion at the offertory of High Mass, we have social prayer, in action. But the MasS,is a-unique prayer in action, because it is a, genuine sacriEce, the only one acceptable to God in the world today. If. we understand the basic notion underlying the concept of sac-rifice, it will be easy for us to see why it. postulates dispositions of adoration, gratitude, expiation, and petition. Every sacrifice is fundamentally the giving of a gift to God. This giving is not enough to constitute a sacrifice, but without it no true sacrifice could come into ,being. Bearing this in .mind, let us ask ourselves the meaning of presents or gifts when they are bestowed among men. We find ,that the giving of a gift to another is an action and that this "action has various but definite meanings, - whether expressed or not. By such gifts we sometimes manifest.our gratitude, as when a man leaves his money t6 a hospital that cared for him when he was indigent. At other times a gift. means "I am sorry,''~ as when a hus-band, after an unjustifiable outburst of anger, presents his wife with a box of candy. Sometimes a gift'ineans "'I want a favor," '_'I'm going to ask you for something shortly," as might be the~case when an employer bestows an unexpected bonus on-an'employee. Finally,oa gift may emphasize particularly our honor and affection-,for ~another, as when children buy their mother a new coat for Mother's Day. Honor, thanksgiving, reparation, impetration--these .meanings or, at least one of them, are the significance of every gift. The gift is a 284 No~emb~ec, 19'48 "ASSISTING AT MASS manner or expressing these, emotions By a deed. , The ~ift~ represent~ th~.persgff°wh'o gives,''~ By ~i,iihg of' his shbstahce, the dohor says it/ effect that be'wishes to give h~mself' to the~ecipient for one of .thd f0~ur ~urpos-es mentioned abd~ oi for all of' th'em together. '~'L~et us° apl~ly, this tb the Mass. -Th~ gift we therd offer.i.t0 God thr0tigh the priest is none other than oui Divi;ae Lord Himself. ~This is an articie of' faith. Alth6~gh the presentation of:this Gift to God is externalljr and officially made by th'e priest aldne, neverthel~ss the priest~acts both.tin'the name of Christ, the principal Gi~rer, and in°the hame of all the baptized, especially df those who are assisting ,~t the Massl Hence our divin~"Savior ;is ~!the°~ift Of all tb the Eternal Father. Onl~r the priest can make ~fie outwa~'d°'0ffering:which cdnstitutes the saciit~ce ;" but th~ priest mak~es, this ~offering :for ali the people! ~'ai~d each p~i~ticii~hnt af Mas~ Sh0uld,~th~eiefbre, inteinal.ly~ offer ~he~DiVind Gift in ti'~i0n £;ith the' priest. Arid each participant shOUld also rem~em-bet that ChriSf, trul~resent bn',the alta~ at the d6nsecration~ repre-sents himself arid eee~'y membe? of 'th~ Mysticat Body. ~ If, .then/we ~ilize tl-iat~at ex;ery M~ss. each ,baptized member of the congregation pr'e~ii~ti th~0ii~h~th~, priest' fiis~dwn ~ersoi~a! Gift to G0d~ it easy to understand why each one; "~hiSuld~-~put on~ thee~ affecti~ins ~f adbration,,thanksgivifig, .,rep'aration,o and~petition. ,,~hese are the .pi~rposes:of all I~ifts; and,at Mass all fouk purposes, are~al~w, ays" t6~be at'faified~ ~Gianted, tha~t, .the)~Church p'ros~ides ,'special !- Masses, of thanksgiving, o~p~tition, oor reparation.,, SuCh;, Ma~ses hierely niean that~on some particular occasion we~aie stressifig our~ spirit of~th~nks-giving or. expiatioh, or' impetration,' not that: we are, excludihg thi~ bther~ ends:~ ,If, ',then, ,ode0assists "at Mai~.~.with6ut realizin~o that he personally~thr6~igh~ fhe outward, actioix of, the priest, is truly; presenting his 6wnGift to God;'.,he~mi~ses.~.the~basic significance of the M~ss:,. He ~will ~0rbfit 'from it nevertheless; but,.th~ Mass by.its.~very, action', pos-tulates oUevery, participant an active, internal giving and,, conse'~ qhen~t[y~- ~the~ dispositions, of.~adoratibn,0, gratitude;~ repafatipn, o and petition whidi.dviiiy~ sincere giver possesses.~. If this Spirit°is missing, .we d6, not,'hear Mass intelligently--; .~We ~re,,like deaf men, attending an oratorical contest. Weisee, but we do, not understahd., But the Mass, since it is a true ,ga(rifice,: is not merely the, offerin~ of ¯a Gift.In every'genuine s~crifice, some~change must be Wr6ught in tht'~gift. " Hence ~th~ gift,~is~ not called Simply~ a ~" gi f,t~ "~but~.~a ".victim.'~' ¯ In sacrifi~es,!of, theo,Olit'L~aw~ this change or victimization wa§ accomplisheff by. the destruction,of the ~object offered. '~ .So too' off 285 CLARENCE MCAULIFFE Calvary. ou.r.Lord, was s.a_crifie,d; by, His,d.ea~h--the~ .separa.tio.n,of His b0dy,,and.human soul. ~. Since ,the Mass~ besides .bei~g-,a,,true,~ s~crifice is also a renewal .of~Calva.ry,:we,.m~st,fi~ad. in it, a death,or,,destrtic-tion of so_me kind . ~Since., it, is, of faith ;that, Chri~st cannot.die~,or suffer physically~ since His resurrection;~ His death. .at ~Ma.,ss .is, m~rely mystical,,or~ tepresen~atiye. 'T9 under~ga.nd .this, we need only r~fl~ect a moment on the:do.uble, consecrati.on.;~,~the essence ofo the Holy:Sa.cri; rice. Though:,Christ beco_m, es~:wholly, Rresent _undgr. ,, each spe.cies~ at each consecration,, nevertheless the .words uttered by ,the pries~t d~ not give this impression.-" Ou~wa.rdly, but only outwardly,.; they ,siggify a, separation of His,.hody'and blood,, i.e., death,~ since t.he pries.t first icnotne:syeaclr tahteens: tch.oen bsreecaradt _be~sy ,t hsae y,winign e, "o,,Tyh~i Ss iysm Mg~y :b~omdsy i:.'s:.~ t~age,dc haaf~telir~ ac eb"r ioeff My blood.". ,, Since separgtion of body., and blood spells, death for a man, the two .consecrations,. taken, at their face or oral ~va!ue~ provi~l~ us with,an outward appearance of the Savior~s~ death.~ ~ All .theor logians~and, indeed: reason itself teach that such a "picture"-of' de.ath is painted by:.he"words0 of consecration and,, ~most,~the01ogi.a.n.s ad ~mit thatthis "pjc.ture" of death is the only change or d~estru~ti~on ~equired to .make the. Ma.ss a genuine sacrifice. -~ . .: .~_ >,~.0. ,: ~, ~,, , But wh~° do we" introduce such ~a dogmatic-pplnt ifito aw article which~profksses'to explain ho~ ,we,ate 1~o assist at Masig Becauseits correct-, fifiderstanding clarifies "an .additibnal ~ind' ,vital; internal dis-position which the,Holy ~Fathe~-~wishes ~very Chtholic to,(ultivi~te" ,at th~';Holy Sitcrifice;o He says that participants, in~;the-:Mass0 ','should immolate themselves as, victims." In other? words:~the.~Mass be'its vdry /action demands 6f'~all-f~iesent:~i ,spirit" of" sdlf-ifiamolation,'~of self-surrender to,God:' Ac~ordifig tb~.the~PontiffLthis :means~.more p~i'rticulaily that. each l~'hrticiplint in the-Mass "should conseCrate~him'- sell to the attainmerit~ of Gbd'~ glory ,an'd ~hould earnestly ~deslfe to imitate closely. :3esus C.'hriSt through-~the~ efidurance, of poignant sufferings:" In shbrt, the Catholic :whb assist.~ ;at Mass' intelligently should' realize' ,tha't- the'. Holy- Sacrifice" by~ ,its "~acrificial, action means th~it~he is~to go :.'all'Loutv ff6i Godi.~b6th .b~,~ac~ively.~'~ngagifig in apostolic wbrks,and~'by,suffering all evils° ~atiently:. This is,self~ immdlatidn, ~elf.-surrehd~r td"God." -~ ~ ~ ~! :: ~ : "-. :~o ~. ".~' ::~ °' . L ~And tl~e'reason~ ":Becausez as,explained abgv,e,,Chri~t Our Loid, the:Gift w~ .offer ttirouigh thd priest.,at:'Ma~s, is: not m~etely, ao ~Gift; but a~Gift~wkapped in the cloak of dda~h;b~h~dou151e ' onsec.ration. ~He is ~a mystically, oi symbolically, or celareseftatively'~ilain Gift toGod. 286" ~l'o~ember~ ! 9.'I 8 ASSISTING AT MASS He stands for us, represents us, takes our place, not merely ~is a Gift, but as~ a.Gift crucified externally again.' "Henc~ the ver~; action bf ttie Mass at the Co~nsecration requires that'.,~ve pu, t on that inward spirit which our Substitute', outwardly slain again in an unblbody manner 15y the "sword" of the consecratory words, exhibits namely; the spirit~of self-oblation, of tofal colasecration ~o God. True enough, this spirit, as~' the Holy Father observes, should.pervade a Christian thrc~ughout his life. It is symbolized evdn at baptism by" which we . "areburied ~ogether with Christ" so that we are henceforth dead to sinful pleasures. But 'the Mass by its very nature exacts an?active renewal of.this spirit of self-destruction fr6m each participant. W_ith-out such a renewal we are not alert and intelligent participators;: we miss a cardinal point of the significance of the sacrifice. To adoration, thanksgiving, reparation, and petition, therefore, should "be* added this spirit of sel'f-immolation: ~AII five of~ these dispo~sitions .~hould ~be aroused before the~ momdnt of Consecration arrives. Nor ~o01d we thii~k that we are hypocrites because lives do not~ actu'ally cortes/Send with 'the~com~lete consecration God*WhiCh the Mass expre~s~s~ for° u~ .¢vers; day. o The ;road to" "t3er-fection or to'complete ~urrender to God, is a~'.long roadL~ For most peop1~' itois meandering and rough. By sorh~ it is occasionally for~ sal~en~fo~ detours. But when we express'our totM~ dedication to~ God during MasS, we"are sincere2 We me,in thavunstinted dedication to God is the ideal which we truly yearh foi.~' We are no more hypo~ ~rites "in, inwardly.dxpressing this~tofal .devotibn ,to God than,_is the sinner who makes a fervent confession mar1~ed by genuine" soriow and a firm" resolve not to sin again, bat who, notwffh~tanding, siiis ahew through~ frailty'riot long after. ' '~ . " ~ ' A few more remarks about these five internal,°dispositions which the Pontiff teaches. 'We'sh6uld .remember that they admit of,almost infinit.e :degreds. " Not only wilP these, degrees vary in diffeient indb ¯ viduals, bu~ tl~ey will vary in, the same individual from one Mass to the 'next. ~Circumstances', both natural and supernatural'; e~plain this diversity. ~ But all five dispositions will-be ~almly, though earnestly and explicitly,~f0stered by ever~ Cathblic who really~under-stands the meafiing of the Mass. °~However, we must rdnfember, as the Holy Father cautions, that many Catholic'S, and some of best, are so circumscribed in their education that they cannot grasp the actual significance of thd Mass, which they nevertheless treasf~re highly. They know that Our Lord becomes truly present'on the 287 CLARENCE MCAULIFFE Review for Religious altar at the Consecration. This is about all that they do know about the Mass. They are pious, and they pray or try to pray during the Holy Sacrifice. Consequently they do possess, at least implicitly, sgme .of those internal dispositions which the Mass postulates, even though they do not connect, them directly with the sacrificial action. They profit, therefore, from the Mass; and if the flaw of not under-standing its true meaning proceeds merely from circumstances and not from any culpability, they may profit more than an erudite theo-logian. Despite this fact, it is most laudable, the Holy Father ~tates, to cultivate in oneself and to propagate to others the real signifi-cance of the Holy Sacrifice. Such. an apostolate will, generally speaking, make our people more alert and prayerful at Mass so that they will draw greater blessings from it. Such an apostolate will do much to banish daydreaming and those voluntary distractions which we have reason to believe lay hold on many of our people during the sacred mysteries. The same apostolate will increase attendance at Mass on week days. It will also prevent some Catholics from missing Mass on days of obligation, or from falling away altogether. We shall now treat briefly what the Holy Father has to say about the outward manner of participating in the Mass. Whatever external form 6ur assistance at Mass assumes, it has but one main function-- to excite the internal dispositions already discussed. The Holy Father expresses this truth several times in his encyclical. He says, for instance, in one passage, that the various ways of externally partici-pating in. the. Mass "have as their principal object to nourish and foster the piety of the faithful and their close ,union with Christ and with His visible minister; also to excite that internal spirit and those dispositions by which our minds should become like to the High Priest of the New Testament." Consequently, no one manner of externally assis.ting at Mass is to be rigidly insisted upon. This point is emphasized by the Holy Father. He .,himself offers several ways, which we shall specify,, in which one may laudably 'assist at Mass. He~ even gives reasons why no one method should be urged too insistently. He mentions, for example, that many Catholics cannot read even the vernacular and cannot, therefore, follow the Mass prayers. He declares tl~at others do not have the 'ability "to comprehend religious rites and liturgical formulas." 'Again, he states that "the temperaments, characters and minds of men are so varied and diverse that not all can be stirred and directed in the sdrne wa~t by prayers, songs and other sacred actions 288 November, 1948 ASSISTING AT MASS enacted in common." Moreover, he says that "different people have different needs for their iouls and different inclinations." In fact, the needs and :inclinatiohs of the :same individual vary from day to day. Hence .no 'one inflexible manner of hearing Mass should be imposed on all. Nevertheless,ceitain, outward ways of assisting at Mass are objectively preferable.to others, It is.noteworthy that the Pontiff m~ntions, in the first place the silent following of the Mass in the Roman Missal. He pralses~ those "who strive to place the Missal in the hands of the people so that, in union with the priest, they may pray in the same words and with the same sentiments of the Church." Secondly, he lauds those who are endeavoring to interest the people in the "Dialogue Mass." By "Dialogue Mass" the Pontiff gives no indication that he approves or even allows such a Mass when it involves the oral recitation of some liturgical prayers, such as the "Gloria" and the "Credo," simultaneously with the celebrant. The "Dialogue Mass" which the Holy Father sanctions is that" in which the people as a body, instead of the server alone, answer the prayers of the priest. As he puts it: "They respond tO the words ot the priest in dueorder"; or "They utter their prayers alternately with the priest." It is safe to say, therefore, that the "Dialogue Mass," so understood, has papal approval and even commendation. Thirdly, the Pontiff praises those who at Low Mass introduce the singing of those hymns "that are fitting for the various parts of the sacrifice." Fourthly, he approves those Low Masses in which the "Dialogue Mass," as explained previously, and the community singing of appropriate hymns are combined. Finally, at High Mass, he com-mends the community singing of the responses and of the liturgical chants, such as the "Credo." Th6se who promote all such practices are commended by the Holy Father.~ But to obviate the danger of rigid uniformity, he ¯ specifies other ways 'of assisting at Mass for the poorly instructed and also for those well-instructed Catholics who by reason of circum- 'stances or natural propensity do not wish or are unable to, follow the Missal or to engage in community prayer or singing. He states that such may during Mass "piously meditate on the mysteries of Jesus Christ." If they do not wish or are unable to do this, he recom-mends that "(hey perform other exercises of piety and say other prayers which, even though they differ from the sacred rites in their outward expression, nevertheless in their internal spirit conform to 289 C. A. HERBST Reoieto for Religious these rites." ' Such a general expression certalnly seems to. include at ¯ least the private recitation of the rosary during.Mass. ~,, Hence though certain-external .ways of hssisting,at Mass ar~; generally speaking, objectively preferable; nevertheless no one way is to be unflinchingly adhered to. The Mass postulates an internal spirit. ~The outward manner in which' that spirit is tO be obtained oi manifested is secondary and accidenfal. The Catholic. who at the Holy Sacrifice refines and develops his sentiments of adoration, gratitude, reparation, petition, and total dedkatibn to God is an active participant. The external way .which will help him best to develop those sentimentsis for him, at least on this particular occa-sion, the one that he should adopt. Dis!:rad:ions in Men!:al Prayer C, A. Herbst, S.J. y]HEN one prays vocally, the se,ntences or phrases or-even words W serve as strings by which one s thoughts are drawn along. Or we ,might say that they" are like pegs that hold our thoughts where they ought to be. In mental prayer, however, these aids to attention are wanting, and one's thoughts 'wander much more easily, So mental prayer may be said not to have as great moral unity as vocal prayer. This makes it more difficult to meditate than to pratt vocally. Distractions are thoughts during prayer which do not belong to prayer. Attention is the opposite: the~centering of,our thoughts during prayer on what belongs, to prayer. Attention', evidently, is essential to haental prayer. It is its substance. ~ In mental prayer we either think of the subject of meditation or wee do not. One cannot think of a thing andnot think of it at the same time. One thinks prayerfully on something, turns to something else, then after the interruption comes'back again to prayer. So there is a succession of prayerful acts and other acts. There is, of course~ nothing wrong with interrupting mental prayer. That is what we usually do when we say ejaculatory prayers. We pray for an instant and go right back to secular thoughts. This is not only all right but highly recommended by 290 November, 1948 DISTRACTIONS IN MEN'I~AI:, PRAYER h~ost ehlightened spiritual men. we should'.do this very,often, d~y," make a ~iabit, of it, _As Stiarez rather.~beculiarly p'ut's it, "ifiter-ruption~ s ~ard~'meritorious:''- ?~The~refore, - unless ~ ther~ :is,~ a -~special oblig~ition Of givifig to-mental prayer some ceitain.,defined, dontinuous time, no sin is cbmmittdd ifi this way, whether the ~urning,of:.the mind from.prayer td other ;thoughts is volunth~y or,.inv~olunthry, unless'~the interiuption~ is made through levity, and so unreas6nably and irreverently.:' ~' (Pesch, 'Prablectiones "Doqmaticae~ IX;~ n. 3~48.) Distrac[ions in~ mental prayer~ aie very, very common. One should not "get"discouraked on this accotiAt nor lose patience"with oneself. Evei~ holy men have them. If, ','misery loves company," we shall be consoled by what St. Augustine says in his commentary on Psalm 118: "One cries' out with ofie's whole heart when~one" thinks of nothing else. Such prayers are,.rare among the majority, frequent only with few. XVhether any are such even in the case of ~one single individual, I know not." Gerson gives many exhmples from among the Ancients to show the great difficulty of a complete ~rictory in ~this matter: Great exceptions like St. Aloysius, whos~ diitra~tions in ~half a year of prayer amounted only~to the Yspace;:of a ~Hail M~ry, ~tre shining examples to,be admired, but the~ arerarely imitable. (Cf. Zimmermann, Aszetik~: 383,'.384.), " ~'~ Involuntary distractions are not ~inful: They are~,rather'some-thing to be "suffered," to be borne with,' than s~mething we pbsi~ tively~do., ~"But to wanddr in mind Unintentionally does not deprive prayer of [all] its fruit. Hence Basil says: 'If you are so, truly Weakened by sin that you are unable':to pray attenti~iely, strive as much as you~can to cu~rb"~yourself; and God. will pardon you~ seeing that you are "unable to-stand in His presence in a becoming manner not~ through negligence but thrbugh frailty.'~" Bht attention is necessary for prayer'that its end be better ~ttained, and in Order that wl~at St. "Fhoma's Calls, the third fruit, of prayer, the immediate fi:uit attained her~ and now, spiritual refection of mind, be art/tined. (S. Th. 2-2, 83, 13.)- This spiritual iefection of mind is spiritual joy, pea~e of heart, cohsolation, joy in God, satisfaction, arid espe-cially the fostering of virtuous good will¯ Thereford, involuntary distractions ought by all, means ,to,be avoided. The}, should be forestalled, p~0vided against from afar~ sd. t6' speak.; iA ~firm determination at the beginning of prayer~mot to be distracted, and" perseverance~ in this intention, are both~morally and ps~,~hologicallyn'ecessary' for'this: morall~i, otherwise~ there may be 291 C. A. HERBST Review for Religious negligence~ or sloth; psychologi~ally, so that-the wilLmay be,buoyed up by the initial determinations. The preparatory ~acts so carefully recommended-by !St." Ignatius :in~ the: Addition~ at xhe end ~of the ,First Week of the Spiritual Exercises are.a great help, in, this matter. Then, where one notices that distractions are in the, mind, one must .turn again, to, prayer. ~ ,Remote prepara~tion is very important, too". m~ch .niore important, I am afraid, than most of, us realize in practice. This consists espe~cially 'in fostering a spirit of recollectiori during the' day; avbiding wordliness, and walking in the_presence of~ God., Some valuable~hints along this line are also given in the Additions: ~ ,f ,~ It-isr the common-teaching that deliberate distra'ctions in prayer are venially sinful when there is no go.od reason for them. ~ And this holds even for prayer that is not itself obligatory. The supposition in this case,is, of course, that one wishes, to remain in prayer and at the same time deliberately and without reason does 'not attend to God. Bwdoing this one seems to make light of Goi5 and thus~offendsagainst~ theft.reverence-required ~by the virtue.of religioff.,.~As, Suarez~explains it.:~:~'On the.one hand a man has-the intention, whi~h;he~ has not 1etracted, or did,not have a good reason for retracting, 0f,coritinuifig prayer;,,an.d ~to this end: rehaains'in .the'presence of~God by~;hi§ special intention in such,,a,pl~ice; iffsuch a manner, and,,.f0r, guch or ~o~16n~ a time;;~yet, on the other 15an_d~he: is negligent in aStending, or volun-tarily~ brings in, other,th0ughts foreign to that exercise,' And this we say,does,,not- happen without, sin, thou gh ~venial:" .: (Suarez;;De ;Or., 1.2; c.- 5,m. 1.8.) -o, ~ .:." ~ St.Basil's~explanation is,somewhat, similar: ,He says:2 "Wg must not ask, lazily; our mind,wandering here:and,there. ¯ If~ ao ma_n' :acts .thus,,~he will not only fail to get what-he asks ,,for but will even ~xasperate the L6rd more: For~ wheh a. man st.ands before a~prince and speaks, he :stands with much fear,,and certainly doesonot~ permit either_ ,the ~externab or ~ the,4nternal eye~ of. his~ :mind -tg~ ow, ander:, but remains attentive, lest perhaps-he come. to grieL :Howxmuch more ought~one to,stand before God with,fear and trembling, with his mind fixed~on Him alo~ne and intent on nothing els_e.". (P.atralo~ia Graeca, 31, 1333.) Holy'~nd learned, men through the ages have thought,,,thus, ~and good people consider as sinful distractions in prayer that are willful "and-unnecessary. ~.Since after mortal sin/the greatest evil-in the world is venial sin, and since willful distractions .are venial sins, we should ,by al! means try to eliminate them. Things like walking up and.down ?r looking 292 November, 1948 DISTRACTIONS IN MENTAL PRAYER out over the fields are not distractions at all. When there is sufficient r~ason for'admltting something distracting, it is not sinful. One may have to say a few words or answer the doorbell or light, the candles for Mass. Doing such things with'decorum is~all right. In general, one may do what is necessary pr very, convenient. In preparing for mental pra}'er one should work carefull~y so as to have ready material for meditation that will really hold the atten-. tion. Such preparation is not very difficult when made in private. One can then simply take a subject that fits, one's own present state and apply it as one knows. When the points are made in common ,,there is greater difficulty. The subject may not be at all pa~latable.and personal application may be practically impossib!e. _For such occa-sions one may well have stored up some .good meditations that are congenial. Perhaps even one could take a little time afterwards and prepare one. It has,often struck me that we are quite helpless and altogether wanting in resourcefulness in making our way through a period of mental pray~er when the matter on hand seems impossible or atten-tion has flown away, I see no reason why we cannot come to a gen-eral understanding with God for such contingencies. We might take some subject that always attracts us; the Holy Eucharist, for e,x~mp!e. An extended and affective preparation for Holy. Com-munion ought to be in place any morning. Or one might apply the Second Method of Prayer to the Common or Proper of the Mass. This, too, is quit~ in place, and easy. Analogous instances for each individual are almost innumerable. But they must be found and kept in readiness beforehand. A tired mind is helpless even to find them. Distractions in meditation usually come from incidents in daily life. We think of our work, of some problem child, a real or imagined injury rankles within us, we think of some recent joy. When a thing of this kind affects us greatly, it will come back to our attention again and again, although put aside many times. Why put it aside? In meditation we must pray mentally, but I know of no obligation that binds me 'to remain with a subject that simply will not hold my attention. Pray over the thing that is obtruding itself, that is forcing itself on your attention. It must be very out-standing in your life here and now or it would not come back so persistently. Pray over it. Pray over the distraction. Here again an understandifig with God to this effect is in ,place. We~c~ ,~ask Him to bless our work, to help us with the problem child, to bear the 293 C, A. HERBST ~ - injury patiently, with lov.e for Him, perhaps even with joy, and share ofir happiness. Making a virtue of necessity is ~not,alien to the spiritual life. ~' It sdems t0~ind that much " difficulty arises'in regard to mental prayer because we do no[take nature's lead. Itmight be a legitimate in~terpre[ation of the term 1supernatural life to say that~it is the life of grace~ built upon the foundation Of nature. There is probably hardly a saint living or .dead who does not or did not capitalize on personal circumstances and natural 'propensities in living his life of love with God. God's Providence has not ceased, arid the Holy Spirit makes use of a man's natural ~qualities and inclinations to advance hiin in tl~e 'spiritual life. Some find that thee beauty and vastness 6f ~iature° and the universe lead them upwards. Some cherish the 15resencd of God, others a sweet, gentle sorrow for sin, still others zeal for souls, and so on. Such things as these, too, might be the~ refuge of a ~wandering and tired mind during mental prayer. Ofie last refaark. A meditation on our every-day life might be very profitably made When we find ourselves suffering fr6m con-tinual distractions. A fifi~ novice master, a man of'great e~perience and deep spiritual insight, suggested that this even be deliberately chosen as a subject often: once a week, let us~ say, 'Lovingly and reverently in the prdsence of God we go through the d~y, beginning with the first waking thought, taking each action and exercise in ~;rder. R.eally, one can hardly do better. 'After all, all we' have-to offer God is bur life, our daily life. The~ chief purpose of'the n~ornifig meditation is to direct this life to God and to sanctify.it. To live ¯ today through with intense love is certainly the finest fruit of mental prayer. OUR "CONTRIBUTORS RICH/kRD LEO HEPPLER is chaplain at the 2uniorate and the Novitiate'of the Franciscan Brothers of Btookl~rn at Saiithtown Branch, New York. C. A. HERBST, GERALD KELLY, and CLARENCE MCAULIFFE are members of the faculty of St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas: and J. E. BREUNIG is completing his theo-logical studies at the same institution. ~ 294 On St:aying in Love Richard Leo Heppler, O.F.M. ~"~N,.lUST HOW MA.NY points the modern worldly person and V, the Saint disagree it~would be almost impossible to calculate. But-surely~they would be at .variance in regard' to the meaning of at least one of our popular sayings: Andthe adage which provides the matter for difference of opinion is°the saying, °"Love ma~kes the world go 'round." Truly, it would be hard to find a ~more unscien'- tific little senterlce. It reveals a complete .disrespect: for the laws of nature: for attraction, movement, rotation, and, force. It shows a profound disregard for~ ,the. prindple of cause and effect. The man who coined that phrase might have been a~cavalier: it is imposs~ible to think of him as a devotee of the atom. Leaving this dis~u'ssioh aside for a moment, we would be quick to admit that° both the children of 'this world and. the saints.,agree that love certainly ~makes a human being go 'round. We would be hard put to explain some very strange ~onduct if we could not attribute it to love. When a, young man so far. forgets himself as to swing into the latest dance steps ,in the,pennsylvania. ,Station, the surprised bystanders, will indulgently nod their-heads and agree that he is in Iove. When the, young lady who sits next to you, ,on .the First Avenue"bus insists upon hummlng~-and .humming rather attractively--"Only Make.Believe," you excuse the distraction and gallantly conclude that she' is in love. When a tough-.looking truck driver gazes long and, ardently at, the, wedding rings in.: Findlay~- S~auss',, the, p~ss~rs-by diagnose the case immediately.:~And they do the same when they see a pair of very blue and ~¢ery feminine eyes frowningly appraise ~the pipes or belts in. Wanama.kers. But ~hen.~you,;se~ a pretty little high-school girl ?r .a bent.old man kneeling in'ardent prayer before the tabernacle, you can be quite certain that tl~e judgment of worldly ones will be far less indulgent. Instead of sayifig, "She is in love," or, "He. i.s in 10ve"~as indeed they r~ally are the,modern pagan, if such a one were present; wou.ld be more apt to remark, "She's just a kid. She'll be all right in a couple of years. We all do crazy things when we're young.'L Or, "He's in need of a good rest. Ever since, he lost his wife he's been acting odd." 295 RICHARD LEO HEPPLER Review for Religious So it starts to become obvious that the modern worldly person disagrees witl~ the saint on' the meaning of the saying "Love makes the world go 'round" because the former believes only in l~uman love, ahd he is ~interested only in ~t/~is world. Whereas the saint knows that human love is not the only, nor indeed the highest, love; .just as he believes that thi~ is not" the only, .nor indeed'th~ be~t, World, He knbws that there is a love unass~o~iated-With cupids and V'alentines which ~uni~es him not°fo~ human beings but to 'God Himself. He believes that ther~ exists a world where not television butthe ~beatific vision ~is the reward :of the:blessed. Hence the saint really ~ believes that 10ve mhk~s the world go 'round~ because God is love, and aroundHiin all things rotate: Once we understand the deeper spiritual truth behind the saying "Love m~kes 'th~ world' go 'round," we are well on our way to discovering" one c~f the great ~ecrets of tile ~saints. " Unlike the truly wordly person, the saints fell in love with God;zbut, unlike us, they resolutely insisted upon staying in love with Him. Falling in love is.not difficult for ~most of us, but staying in love calls for a stag-g~ ring amount of generosity arid sacrifice~ To fall in love with'~Jesus Christ is a very flattering experience; to stay in°love with Him is s6metimes' nothing short of martyrdom. H~ive'.you ever noticed howT, the determination to stay in love ~i~h" Jes~s" Christ is common tb all the s/tints; while calling for differeht reaction~ in each? The determination to stay in love with God mad St~ Paul'el0quenf while it caused St. Joseph to be silent: it impelled St. F~ancis to .preach ~tb the Si~Itan',of E~ypt and ~t. Peter Claver fo. minister ~o the" slaves; it inspired~St. Augu.~tine to take up hi~ ~en and' St. Dida~us t0~ take~ u13' hiss'shovel; it drove St. Fran~is"Xavier' to Indi~"aia-d it~ drove the Little iFlov>er to~.the cloister. '. ~ - ~ " . We religious conside~ OurselVes the .friends, follow_ers, ~and~lover~ ~f 6esus, Christ, and both .~h~ w6°rld and the Church,' recogniz~e us as such. Our vocation is ,.n~ot~ merely to fall in'love with Jesus Christ; it is to stay in love with Him. Andstaying inlove ~ith Jesus Christ entails much more than _saying, ".Lord, Lord." It ~meansl being faithful to'our pr.omises to :try to °become more and more Christlike; it means exerting a conscious effort to grow in holiness; it means the constant ~¢illingness to force ourselves tb do the will of God no matter how hard it may be. Staying in love with Jesus Christ means trying" to use each day November, 1948 ON STAYING IN LOVE of our spiritual lives'as if we re~illy ~were :in love. ,It includes sudh thinl~s as getting out of bed promptly: trying to make a~good, pdrsonal,"practical meditation: ~putting our hearts,and souls into our Mass and, Holy Cdmmuniofi; trying to banish distractionsfrom our prayeis; carr~;ing"out our appointed tasks well; making an~effort, to preserve thee spirit 6f-recollection by such means as ,ejacu!atory prayer: being cheerful: charitable, and "co~operative at/community recreation: observing the prescribed silence: a'nd 'so on., ,-It means that ,we sincer~l~r try to ,make 2esusrChrist the King and Centei~ of our lives by,livifig"ouk ever~y thohght, word, and deed. for Him. Staying in lo~re with°Jesus~ Christ means tr)~ingo to be ~ satisfied with our l~t whatever it alay be. A cheerful,'morik in. the/days of old used to add privately to his litan)~, "From dissatisfied brethren, deliver us O Lo~d." Only a few Of us might be,willing to spend' long dull hours studying Sanskrit,, but almost all_of us would prefer that to a half hour each day~ with ~perpetually dissatisfied religious. We expect tragic figures':t0 su!k~t.hrough our literature just.a.s we expect spoiled children to pout on our city streets, but it is a!ways disap-pbinting to find them in the convent or ~the,monastery. Perhaps~ Lhe dissatisfied religious, was once a lover 9f Jesus ~Christ and gave~ gre.at promise of. advancing in perfection. Maybe°she who now~. complains about the regular weekly appearance_s of~,the same dessert and the cheap material of her-new habit--maybe she as a novic~ once delighted .in giving~up ,her,~cake: and° ~may.be .she ~s~iled upon her mended habit as upon a regal gown.,,It is true thaLdufing.the passage of the years the glamor of the profession ceremony does wear off. The flowers and the music and the incense and the candlelight fade. But-we must not let the similarity between our profession and the Three Hours Agony fade. Of course, it is not always easy to be content with our lot. It is not always,easy to teach French when.we feel more inclined to decorate the chapel or to fill prescriptions' or to type reports. It ~s n~t easy, to be cohten.ted when ~we are placed under temperamental, suspicious, orodownright unfair;i~up~eriors. It is always easy~ to be contented when you'have to. live with ~a religious who considers himself a necessary and an it/fallible afldition .to ~our conscience. NO, it isn't always ea's~ to try ~o be.~atisfied with our lot; but staying in love with Jesus Christ requires that-,w¢ try to be satisfied for His sake. . Staying in love~with J~sus'Christ meam refusing to fall inlove with anyone or anything else.: In modern pagan Aaierica infidelity, 297 RICHARD LEO HEPPLER like co~kfails .Before diniaer~:is taken~ for granted: ,We°might be ihclined ~tb_censure rather ,segerely the~marital ad, vent,ures, of, our Holly.whorl actbrs and adtresses Without realizing that we, too can,be unfaithful.-sand we arL urifaithful-to Jesus,Christ~ to,sbme extent at least,Af we permit 0~r~'affe~tions t6 become,so strongly.-,attache~ to any ~erson or thing as to deprive ~ Him ~ of the fulldove we have promised: ~ We odce vowed that the" 0nly,tfiangles ia our lives would be~in our geometr~ classes." Hehc~:we cannbt afford to bec6me so inter~ite~ in an6~her person or in Chaucer or in the Rh factor or in a new'arrangement of Panis An~elicos or in the recipe: for baked Alaska or Charlie'McCarthy that we lose interest in' growing i~ holiness. If We seftle for~ h :divided service we are fair-weather- friends of 2esus, not lovers:~ :Then'religious life ~bddo~ds-moaotonous: then it is easy to criticize the c0~munity or the ~uperior; then fickleness and, shal-lowness tak~ theplace of faith a~d humility. Th~ ~esolhte~ religioui Who i~ determined to stay in love with 2esus,Christ,comes tff~arn that 16v~ does make the world go 'round. He Will ~a~ to' persist in tryin~ ~o live each:day of his spirithal life to thi best 0f his 'ability in'~r~of 0f"~is love for:JeSus",Christ. H~'~ill ha~e t6 try to b~' sati~fie'd :Gith his lbt sinc~ that i~wh~'deiu~,~wants. H'e: Will ende~v6r'~6 be;~ffii~hfhl to ~i~ love for 3eshs~:nd ~atter~ what S~dr~e that' dfit~ils:" Hd will not let routine ~hi11 his qove, riot sick~ ~dss enfdebl~ iL Uor~arthlg ~ttrac~ibn~ devitaliz~ it: nbi time:dimAt: Is~t any wonder t~?t---he-,can Under~tand: the~.rttue meaning :of ;fhe ~h~ih'g; '~d~ :~'~ke~the ~wbrld . Whoever. delights' ~E,gieat 'hteratu~e ~fll"~welcome" the; ne~ edition wor~; of. Jo~.-He~=tIewm~n, no~. Ieiag:~IuIlished: t~. kongmans }i~r~n, ind Company, ~e~ $otk.,~,Itti~ the purpose o~ this edmon "to. p~owde,~Ioth for the general reader and ~e stnI¢nt, the latest and Iest texts ,of those works which b~d fai~ t6 s(ind th~ otfe'stt~'me ,'"- as.'.w.e.l.l .a.s. .t.o".p.r.e.s.en.t. .a.n.ew~ ce"r"tain of'hii:W'6rks.which have primarily a,histofic~l interesti,'but which:mus~ be reador cohsu~ted_iLt~e ~ish~ to ~understand the mang~faceted mind of the author." Thiee volumes appeared in 1947 :. APOL~IA PRO VITA SUA (pp. xx~ti + 400), A GRA~R dF' Ass~' (pp. xxii' + "39~) ~ 13). ~ui" fh~ ifi ~ 1:948~ three~ vdlumes ~of' ESSAYS' AND ~SKETCHES (pp. x¢iii"+ 382; x~ + 368; xvi + 381) have been published. ~g,it~d~nt~ng ~e~eral . reader will find the introductions helpful to, a,,complete.,understanding of,the~ text. EaCh ¢olnme ~ pr6vlded with "an ifidel i:hd 'gs pri~ gt S~'.5"0. T~ do,plead set is to'~ohlist" of nineteen volumes. 298 . On the Du y: [?.ovln9 {:he , ble ghbor Especially ['N'~LA~ING'"t~ gefle~al prffep[ 'of ffatdnal chanty, "thee: [ log~ans ~sually call attentmn to the fact ,that thts duty includes = " ft :nlighb S)ff;"~'eve~ ~nemi~s; n~vertBel~is; ' b~caus~" Hi.self saw fit to voxce a sp~c,al precept regarding the love of ene-mies and because this duty has speciai g[~ulties, the m6ral theology usually.include an exphc~t t?eat~eht of ~h~.2dUty.of io¢ifig enemiesi' "~he~e~tre~fises £ontain much'that~is ~prac~icaF not only for tBe ordinary Cathohc'but also for rehg~ous. ~ge purpose f t~e present~ notes ~s" to outhne'tbe'commo~lg ac~e~ted teacBing on~ the duW of loving ones neighbor;-parucularly-one s~ enemies, and to comment more m detail-on points.that seem~ to .de of espmally prac-tical value to religious. "'~" ~.~ .:~,. ,:~,, ~ 2, !., THE ,GENE~L PRECEPT.OF CHARI~ : There ar~ many specifictd~ties of fzaternal .tharity:,, for,~example, ¯ al~sgiving,, fraternal correction, ~ the~'avoidance: eL scandal ~ ~nd :0f c0-operation~ini-another~s.sin, and t~e~love~of, enemies~': But;all these dUties~ar~ derived ,from the general .precept .of. fraternal charity, ~which ma~ be~bNeflF'st~ted as follbws: Bg~ diai~e ~receOt, ~ must 1oo~. all d~ ffei~hbori wit~ ,'t~e ;/6ve~ of cfiarif~ ; and, tfiis ~dut~, :ext~Ods~ to thougMs;, words; and deeds. 1 A .briefl explanation ofithis, genera[ law maycontain, a -number" of ~helpful, points ~and :will !eag~-;t~g gro¢~d for as,more~detiiled consideration of the-'command to.~love~9~g~ enemies;. :,~: .~;. ~ ~. ~,. : .~ " ., . ".~ ~ " ~hari~ i~ a~ spatial kind of love, a supernatural love which is d~)etted primaril7 to clod. BE 'charity we love GOd because, as ~e know H~m through faith, He is infinitely ~ort~y of love. Genuine chanty towards the neighbor is also a love for God because the neighbor, as known through faith, shares in d/sfincfi~l~ divine perfections, fo~ ex~p! , the divi~e-lffN of grace and the divine destiny of seeing God face to face. - ., ,, ,, -- Itfis important to note that fraternal .cha'ri~) rake's its ~otiv~'from .299 GERALD KELLY Review for Relioious faith; it sees the neighbor through the eyes of faith. Through faith we know ~hat ~the.'neighb0r igarticipates, Or is called to participate, in the divine life of grace; that he is destined for .the beatific vision; that Christ has identified Himsdf with the neighbor: that the exemplar of true fraternal charity is Christ Himself; that Christ has told us to love ou'r neighbor as He has loved us; that we are all united through Christ in God: and so forth. Because of the supernatural bond by which God unites men to Himself, we love one an6ther "~vith the same kind of love with which we lo~ve God--theological dharity. Fraternal ~harity, therefore, is immeasurably superioriv all merely natural love, even the noblest. I might mention here that there is no necessary conflict.between natural~love and charity. A man's good qualities can be recognized by reason, and he can be r~asonably and nobly loved for these. And such reasonabl.e love can easily be supernaturaliFed and ~ absorbed, so to speak, in the greater love of charity when we see the neighbo.r's lovable.qualities as reflections of the divin~ goodness . Who is my Neighbor? In answering the lawyei's question Witfi the parable of the Good Samaritan; Our Lord did-not wish tb say .that the priest and the levite who scorned th'e afflicted man were not really his.~neigh. bors; rather, He wished to"bring out graphically .the~fact that the orily ;one o who " really, acted:'like~ a neighbor .; was ,;the foreigner, the Samaritan', who b0i~nd up his,°wound~' ,and 'supplied his needs. Christiaxt otradi'tioti, v~hich i~" the best interpreter~of. Our.0Lord's w0ids, has~ ahbays underst6od the,word ','neighbor',': (in the'precept "Lov~ thy~neighb6r as thyself")'t0 mean' all~ men:, ~In fact,, the word includes'~ everyone" who has a. common destiny.~-with' us: ~ men on earth, the soul~ in purgatory, the blessed in heaven, and (in:some sense) even the angels. Among rational and intelligent creatures, only the damned are excluded from the notign of neighbor, because ~heirdamnation ha~ forever severdd t.h~ fie that bound' them~ to us. All others are~ bur neighbors a~nd are obje.cts for our charity.'Ho~wever, the commandment is usually:und~rsto0d to refer particularly to men on earth. ' Tho~t~fit, Word, and Deed The commandment of love includes internal and external acts, that is, "thoughts, words, and deeds. Arid like most commandments 300 November, 1948 ON LOVING THE NEIGHBOR it has its negati~,e and its affirmative 'aspects: that is.' it,forbids certain things, and ~it. commands certain things. It ~would be impossible to Live here anything approaching a complete enumeration of the~duties of charity, because .charity is a very geneial virtue.,which affects all our attitudes towards and dealings with our neighbor. I can give here,only~ a few general rules which may help individuals in estimating their own duties as regards fraternal charity.- A negatwe rule, that is, a formula expressing what we must not do, is best expid~sed in terms of the golden rule. "S~ich a formul~ would run somewhat as fdllows: Abstain from ~11 deliberate thoughts, worlds, and actions which you think you w~uld reasonabl~r resent if you were in'your, neighbor's place. -(For a more complete explanation~' of this rule with regard tb speech, see "Notes on Detrac-tion," in REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, ~V, 380-'92.) -6n the affirmative side, the'kerr word i0r"°charity o'f"i thc~ught is "well-wishing." Charity is a love of benevolence, that is, of unselfish and disinterested well-wishing; hence, an internal act of fr~iternal chari~y i~ aii act of supernfiturfiI ~ell:v)isiai~ag. Such an ac~ can expressed in many g;ays: ~or example, by praying for th~ fieighbor's sa!vaSion; by rejoicing over his good f6rtun~, ~spec!ally growth.in virtue; by °so[rowing over his misfortune, especiall3i sin, and by making internal acts of reparation for the sins of o[hers; by desiring the true happiness of our neighbor; by being, prepared to relieve his needs for the love "of God; and so forth. Even. the natural compas-sion we are apt to feel for those who suffdi td~pof~l loss and"'mi~: fortune and the spontaneous joy that we feel ovdr the temporal for'turie of a frle.ndlmay bd implicitly inclfided in and supernatural-ized by charity, pr6,~ided the propersubor"d m" "atxon t~6 eternal,galues ~s not set aside. That we are°obliged to make such internal acts o~f'charity as I have just enumerated is the unhesitating teaching of Catholi~c the-ology( The Church l~as condemned the opinion that we can fulfill all our duties of charity by merely external acts. But how often mus~t we make such~ actsh To that question the best theologian cannot, give a definite answer.~ ~.AI1 _that can be said regarding the obligatipn is that such acts must be made occasionatl~l. However, though'~the obligation itself is vague as to frequency, theo-logians generally~ agree that it.is practically impossible for~one_who~is trying to lead a good Catholic life to fail in this duty. As for what 301: GERALD KELLY is advisable, all.theologians wguld surely"agree that frequent acts of o fraterrial chaHt3 should be highly recommended. .As a-matter of fact, ~the prayers that are universally recommended for daily r~cit~l contain at least two acts of fraternal charity: namely, the act of~Iove and the Our Father. Speaking of prayer for the neighbor, the question might be asked: must we pray for individual neighbors? The general la~¢ of Yharity does not. demand" this, although certain special relationships ,such as ties of blood may do so. The general law of ~chari~y is ~l~l!ed if We include all our. neighbors in our acts of love; or, to put the mat-ter in another way, it suffices if we exclude no one from those acts which, as mentioned above, must be made occasionally. Hence, a brief rule for satisfying the general precept to make~ i~nt~ernal~ acts Of fraternal charity is this: occasionally say the act of love and mean it, or say th~ Our F~ther now and then, and~excl~de no one from its petitions. s~rhat about words~and deeds that is, when are we obiiged to manifest our love for our. neighbor by speech and action? "['lie key word here is "need"; and a brief rule epito.mizing our duties to per-form external acts of charity may be stated thus: I am obliged to help my neighbor (corporally or spiritually) when he'really needs my help and when I can give tl~e help without a proportionate incon-venience to ,myself. It should be noted that this rule expresses only the Christian minimum, namely the duty under pain of sin of performing the works, of mercy. The Christian ideal, which was Christ's glory and which has ever been the Church's glory, goes much higher and helps the needy even to the point of utter selflessness and heroism. (Noth: As re~a~rds the external manifesthtion of. charity, theo-logians usually lay great stress on the necessity of showiii~g what they call "the common signs of good will." The explanation' of this matter is best reserved for the section of these r~otes d~aling with the love of enemies~) ,~, The Diolne Command The jottings contained in, the previous paragraphs explain the meaning and the extent of th~ gei~eral law of fraternal charity. ,To complete them we might ask and answer the question; "Why must we love one another?" ,The ~nswer is derived from both reason and faith. 302" November, 19~ 8 ON LOVING THE NEIGHBOR ',h'Reason~tells u~s that, even~iiGod' h~d~n0t ~aihed.man to :~ super.; natur~l', status, we, shotild have some obligation-to love one~, ari0ther-; for even in the natural order,'men~ would be unitdd by,'a common n~ture ,and. ,a common d~stiny. :,' Moreover, being, social ~by ,n~ature, they Would'have t6 live, and work, a~nd re'create together." ~Bec~use ~f these ~facts,,° th~ n~ttiral ihw itself, which, is perceived by reason, calls for some love: an'd~ finion, esp~cially for ~the wellLbein~-of hulnah hature: th~it il, that men may ~livd ~ogether ~ith that degree of hai~= m6ny which is really helpft;1; t-o "the attainment~ of their purpos~ on earth. . - AS a matter of fact, we do not live in a purely natural order: Through faith we know that God has givd~a u,~ ~ Share'in His own life (sanctifying grace) and the destiny of sharing in His'own~ hap-piness (the beatific vision)"~ We enjoy an entirely special union witli God in Christ; and the necessary preservative of this union~is charity. Scriptural texts on fraternal charity can be multiplied .almost without end. (Cf. for example, "The 'New Commandment' of Love," by Matthew Germing, S.J., in REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, I, 327-37.) -Some of these texts are, it seems, merely counsels, but many of them evidently state a real precept to love the neighbor. Our Lord referred to fraternal Charity as the second grdat command-ment (Mt. 22:39); and St. John said, :'This commandment we have from God, that he who loves God must also love his ne.igh-~ bor" (I John 4:2I). As regards external charity in particular, the clas~sic ~exts are the account of the Last Judgment (cf. Mt. 25:42), in which Our Lord clearly indicates that the attainment of salvation will depend on helping the needy, and the strong words of St. John: "He that hath the substance of this world, and shall see his brother in need, and shall' s~ut'~up his bowel.s from him: how cloth the charity of God abide in him?" ('I. John 3: 17-18). II.-THE LOVE OF ENEMIES That the love of enemies is included in the precept of chari~y and is in some sense a special sign of the true follower of Christ is indicated by Our Lord's words: "But I say to you, love your enemies: do good to them that hate you; and pray for them that persecute and calum-niate you: That you may be the children of your Father who is in heaven, who maketh his sun to rise upon the good, and bad, and raineth upon:the just and the unjust. For'~f you lord them that love 303 GERALD KELLY Revle~b for Religious you, what reward, shall you have? Do not even ~he publicans this? And if you salute your brethren only, what do" you more? Do not also the heathens this." (TvIt. 5 : 44-47.) Many other texts of Scripture have a similar.meaning; even the Old Testament has some beautiful passages on the love of enemies and some moving examples of forgiveness. That forgiveness in par-ticular is enjoined on us is apparent from the Our Eather and from Our Lord's ans@er to Peter, which He illustrated with the story of the unforgiving servant and which He concluded, with the strong words, "So also shall my heavenly Father do to you [namely, deliver over to the torturers], if you forgive not everyone his brother from your hearts" (Mr. 18:35). This divine precept is clearl.y in accord with man's social nature. We are all prone to offend; and if it were permissible to nourish hatred and a spirit of revenge and to deny pardon, progressive_ social peace would be extremely difficult, even impossible. One needs.only to glance at history to see the disastrous effects that inevitably flow from hatred and revenge. Miscellaneous Observations Who is my enemy? In its primary meaning the term refers to anyone who has offended me, whether by causing me needless sot-row, or by insulting me, or by c~ausing me some harm such a~ a bodily injury, a loss of reputation, or property damage. In a wider sense, my enemy is anyone who dislikes me, or anyone whom I dis-like- or for whom I feel an aversion, "The principles of moral the-ology which will be explained in this section refer mainly to an enemy in the primary sense: but they also apply, and with even greater force, to an enemy in the secondary,meaniong of the ,word. We are not bound to love enemies because they are enemies but in spite of the fact that they are enemies. In Other words," enemies should be loved for the same reason that other neighbors must be loved, namely, because of the common ~ties, -natural and supernatural, that bind ,us together in God. Although thereis a special precept to love enemies, this does not normally oblige us to show them a special love: the precept simpl' insists that even enemies may not be excluded from the general duty of charity. Obviously, the precept of loving one's neighbor does no~ refer to a sensible love. Since "this kind of love is not under the free 304 Nouerober, 1948 ON LOVING THE NEIGHBOR: direction of the will, it is not even of obligation with. regard to God, parents, children, and so forth. The love prescribed is the super-natural love of internal and external benevolence. It is of partic.ular importance to keep this in mind when we are speaking of the love of enemies, because in this matter more than in most others the feelings are apt to cause trouble. Another observation of practical value: To love one's enemy is not the same as approving of his unlovable qualities. If an enemy sins, we may hate his sin and wish for his correction. If he has repulsive habits, we may, within the scope of well-ordered charity, take means to,.have him correct those habits. The precept of loving our enemies imposes upon us the same duties of thought, word, and action that were explained in the. notes dealing with the general precept. However, because of the special difficulties involved, moral treatises on the love of enemies usually lay stress on these three specific duties: (a) to put aside hatred and a desire for private and ill-ordered revenge; (b) to show the common signs of good will; (c~ .and to do what is required to bring about a reconciliation. Hatred and Revenge I have read many treatises on hatred: and my candid impression is that the more lengthy they are the more confusing they become. I- will content myself, 'therefore, with saying that a good practical definition of hatred is to wish one's neighbor an evil that is not duly subordinated to some good. It is certainly hatred, therefore, to wish an enemy spiritual harm: for example, that he will remain in sin, that he will lose his soul, and so forth; for such harm cannot be. properly subordinated to any good. Theoretically, it is not hatred to wish someone a temporal evil for his own good: for example, to wish him sickness or financial misfortune as a means of reforming him. But theologians wisely caution against fostering such thoughts, as they can readily be a form of self-deception when they concern those we dislike. Revenge. is punishment for an offense committed. Ordinarily speaking, revenge belongs to one in authority, and it is wrong for private individuals to take or to plan to take revenge. However, theologians reasonably consider that this rule admits of exceptions in minor matters: for example, a boy might justly punish another boy for insulting his sister. 305, GERALD KELLY' Revieu~ for Religious ~ : :Insofar as~,,punishment /nay be justly inflicted for offenses, it is permissible-to wi~h that such punishment be visited upon.an enemy. Btit~ dweiling on" sUChothoughts is dangerous; because it can easily develo15 an, unfgr~giving spirit, and e~en lead tb unreasonable desires of punishment. ,~ ~ ~: After suffering an offense, we usually feel '(all hot inside,",and our imaginations conjure up many evils that we should like to inflict or to have inflicted on our,offenders. In themselves,~ these thoughts are spontaneous and involuntary~ and are therefore isinless.~ They become sins' 6f hatred and revenge only when they ~are deliberate and' when they include the wishing of unjustifiable, evil to our enemy. HoweveL :the protracted' bro6ding over offenses or over the bad qualities of hn,~enefiay, even when no actual evil is desired; is a danger-. 6u's pastime. ~At, the very least, it disturbs digestion and of coarse,. it makes it all the more. difficult to fu!fi11 our external duties to our enemies. The Common Signs. A second duty that calls for particular consideration when ene-mies are concerned is that of showing "the common signs of good will." By these common signs are meant the little courtesies that are ordinarily shown toall men, or at~least to all o~ a certain!' group : for example, to return a greeting, to answer a question, to buy and 'sell' in a public store; to reply to'letters, to tip the hat to ladies, to show some sign~of respect to superiors, to help one who is in'need, and so ¯ forth. The idea ,here which seems so obvious that it is difficult ,to express in words--is that such courtesies are not normally reserved to one's intimate fiiends but are extended to our neighbors because they~ are fellow-citizens, fellow-students, fellow.workmen, and 'the like. Ih a word, these common signs are different from the kindnesses and attenti6ns that are nbrmally shown only to one's friends~: for example, to invit~ them to dinner, to have them as guests over the week'-end, to confide secrets, to carry on an intimate correspondence, to visit them when'i~he~r are ill, and So forth.: Tgese latter 'a~e ~lled' special °Signs of good will: precisely becaUSe they generally indicate some, relation'ship which i~ especialiy~ int!mate. . '~The' principle t6 be,kept in mind here is this:' weare'~0tdinarily" 0blig~d ~to Show' th~ e6mmish~i~ns of g6od~vcill"e~en'to our enemies;-; th~'speciifl s~gns~may generally be reserved f6r'friends. ~ In stating the rule I designedly used the words: ,"ordinarily'" and 306 November, 1948 ON LOVING THE NEIGHBOR "generally" because exceptional circumstances may demand that even the special signs be shown to one's enemy or may, 6n the other hand, warrant at least the temporary withholdiiag of the common signs. For example, to invite one to dinner is normally taken as a special sign of benevolence: yet if dohn gives a party for "all the members of his class," ,he is not at liberty tO exclude a classmate who is his enemy. He must, in this case, invite even the enemy, unless one of the excusing causes to be mentioned later is present. And the shme is to be said for Mary if she gives a dinner for "all the,girls at the office": and for a' religious who is~{n the habit of visiting "all who are in the infirmary." In such cases the special favors (inviting to dinner, visiting the sick) become to some extent common because they are extended to a certain group. If one's enemy belongs to this group, the common courtesy must be extended to him too unless special reasons, to be indicated later, excuse one from this obligation. On some occasions, therefore, we must extend special favors even to our enemies. This is an exception to the general rule. And the general rule that common signs must be shown the enemy also admits of,exceptions. However, it is one thing to state that this rule admits of exceptions;, it is quite another to formulate a reasonable policy that Will govern the exceptional cases. I will give here some examples of cases in which the denial of these signs is considered reasonable: and after studying these examples we may be able to formulate a general principle that,can be appii~d to all cases. The examples given here are culled from various manuals of moral theology. Everyone has a right, to protect himself against mistreatment by others. Hence, in the event that a fellow-religious is constantly indulging in a disagreeable form of teasing, ridicule, or rudeness, I may certainly defend myself by denying him ordinary courtesies until he mends his ways. ,For example, I might refuse to speak to him, or refuse to do a favor that I would ordinarily do for others, if such refusals were merely to show him that his conduct is painful and disagreeable and that I wish him to desist. Superiors have the power within reasonable limits to punish their subjects. It is generally considered as within their punitive power to temporarily" deny common courtesies to subjects who ,have given offense. ~Some authors tl~ink that in minor matters even equali may resort to this method of reasonably punishing another equal who has offended them., In other words, they consider that the' hurt feelings that might be induced by temporary coldness and aloofness 307 GERALD KELLY. Ret~ietv for Religious would be a ~just i~unishr~ent.for 'the offender-~and the tyi~e; of 15un-ishm~ nt that Would.be within the,, rights .of :private~individtials. Another reasonthat,"justifi~s a ~temporary exterior, coldness towards an offender"is the, well-founded hope ~that, such treatment will bringhim,to" a better frame of mind. 1 This is different from and in :a .higtier i~rder th~n me're °Jpunishment ~ven when'ijustl~ inflicted., , There ~is~ the, problem of embarrassment. ;For a ,short¢,time after ,a qilarreF people ,usuhlly, feel ~e±tremel~i embarrassed,~in, each other's ,pres.ence. I~Avoidance*0f this mutual embarrassment would be'a sufficie.ni [eason fbr temporarily keeping away from: an en'emy,, even though that:might mean" the omissions, of one of)the,Common signs, of, gobd will. For example, suppose that ifi a (ert'ain conih munity it is c'us'tomary for the "religio.us to take turns visiting the, sick during recreati6n." In this,case,'visiting the sick is a common sign'o~ good v~ill~ in,'that~, community_-~that 'is, ' a~" kindhess shown iridis.: criminately to, all, the members of.the community who are ill;~,~)But su~pl~ose" that two of the religious have recentl~r qu~reled,,~ and one then'i is n6w in the irifirmary and it is the other's turn to ~visit him. It might~be.th~t.consideration for the, sick would e~cuse the second religious from, making the visit. "Of course, the ideal thing Would be for both to forget it arid for the visit to take place just"as if there had been no quarrel; ,ne~,~rtheless, if the second religious honestly con, ~idered that the visit would be embarrassing and a source of annoy-° ance to,the sick, person,'he would be justified in o/hitting it. Some people say that;they avoid their, enemy and do not speak to him or show him other ,signs of benevolence because they fear that this,,will-lead' to afiother"quarrel, or that the enemy will ptit~, a sinister ihterpretation on 'their actions and use these as an occasion for~ offering fukther offensev'~Granted that the fear of these evils is, a well-founded one, this is certainly a sufficient reason for omitting the customary expressions of good:will. Of'course, such fearsare'~often groundless;~ but if one has really attempted to establish amicable relations.with another and has met only with~,coldness or sharpness, theie is tainly ~nb obligation'to continue tl~e fruitless endeavor.,.In shch a'case the ,fault is all, o/~ one side. ¯ . -" Unfortunaiely, even in religion there are sour-minded indi-viduals; who~refuse'to get alohg With others, who cause great pain" too fellow-religioug~who Wish 'to be courteous~ and,,~cho, egpecially in, a small 'house~, are ;veritable thorns in the side of, the community. How they ju~tifysuch conduct is somewhat of a mystery. ~ 308 November, 1948 ON LOVING THE' NEIgHBoR °" qn the case just considered the obsta~ie to fraternal ,hi~rmony was only one party. What of the case of two religions, members of thee same ;community, who, Stbongl~ dislike" each bther an'd "either impli~itly'fi~xplicitly agree to bav~ nothing to do with ehch oth~er? Are they justified by mutual agreement .in failing to show' to'~eacl'i other the common~,:courtefies~such as speaking to each other? To answer th~s' question, I must.sel~arate the points that are clear, fron~whi~t is'uhcl~ar. The following points are cl(ar: First, both beligi6"~s:aie '~ertai'fily obliged.~o abstain from what has previously be~n d~scribed as internal hatred. Sec~)ndly, each is'obliged~o be wiHin~ t0'~ extei~d f6 the %ther any spiritfial dr temp6ral ~Ip that" might l~e,0f c~blig~itibn according to the rules of well-,orderedcharity. Thirdly " and this is, i~'seems t6 me, all-importan( in community life both a÷e 6bilged to see that the communit~y d6~s no~ suffer because of their mutual e~strarigement policy. If they are members of a:small community it'i~'pr~adtlC~H~ im'posbible for them to cairy 'out their program without catising~'much embarrassment~ and inconveni-ence to the other members of the community. Finally, both are obliged to see that their mutual coldness "gives no scandal to externs. People naturally and" justifiably expect to see religious live together in harmony and, if they-no~ice a lack of harmony, their esteem of the religious life is considerabl.y lowered. Suppose that all the evils just mentioned ~ould be avoided, would the mutual estrangement policy still' ~be sinful? The answer is not clear to me. However, even if such a situation is not sinful, it is at most "tolerable" that is, it could be tolerated .as a means of avoiding greater evils that might, result from the mutual association of two ire'mature chabacters. That "the situatioh is not ideal, and that 'it is~ at variance with the spirit of Christ, seems, quite clear. Moreover,~"th~ anomaly of the"situation becomes even more glaring mwohse'ntc ohna.er m~ionngs icdoeurrste hsyo wto othftoesne bwuhsoimne tshse m~ ednis laikned. w'Tohmis esne eemxste.n tdo tbhe~ one case in which the. children of this world are wiser than the chil-dren of light; the former can do for mere worldly gain ~hat the latter will not do for the love of Christ. ~What has bee.n, said about mutual estrangement among religious is equally ,applicable to similar situations among families or among othe_r groups living ,in common. And it should be remembered~that the smaller the group and the more closely the lives touch one 309 GERALD KELLY Review for Religious another, the more dif[icult, it is to justify the mutual es.trangement policy. We are now in a position to sum up the doctrine concerning the duty~ of showing the common signs of benevolence.~ The ordinary rule is that these courtesies must be extended even to enemies because, being common signs, they simply express externally our recognition of a bond which unites the group and all the members of the group. In other words, they are extended to others as fellow-men, fellow-citizens, fellow-religious, and so forth. To omit such courtesies without~good reason is usually a manifestation of ill will, of a lack of forgiveness, and even a sign of contempt; and because of these things, the omission of the courtesies readily wounds the feelings of the enemy and is a source og scandal to others. However, t.hey may (and occasionally should) be omitted at least for a time, for some greater good .(such as the correction of an offender and the safe-guarding of public discipline oro private rights), and also to avoid some greater evil (such as renewed quarreling). Reconciliation The duties thus far considered refer to an enemy even in the wide sense: that is, to one who has given no offense, but who is disliked. The duty of reconciliation supposes that there has been a quarrel; hence the term "enemy" is here used in its strictest sense, namely, as one who has given offense. Each party to a quarrel is obliged to do his part to bring about a ~econciliation. The offender (that is, the one who started the quarrel) mu~t take the first step. As soon as h~ tan reasonably do so, he must in some appropriate way express that he is sorry and that he is willing to make amends. A formal apology is not always neces-sary; in fadt, it is frequently a source of embarrassment to both parties. It is often best to indicate in some indirect way that one i~ sorry. The offended party is obliged to accept the apology or its reasonable equivalent and to show that he has forgiven the offense and that~ he bears no ill will towards the offender. Such are the basic duties of offender and offended. The fol-lowing annotations may help to clarify them. Some people say, "I forgive, but I cannot forget." Perhaps they mean that they have been so deeply wounded that the thoughts of the dffense keep welling up in their mind and bring with them feelings of.rancor. As I have already pointed out, such thoughts are 31.0 November, 1948 ON LOVING THE NEIGHBOR" no indication Of ~in; and therefore the}" do not indicate a"lack Of forgiveness. However, sdr~etim'es this expression "I tannot forget" really m~an~ "I ~vill not forget," and it indicates that there is still some deliberate ill will towards the offender. Others say, "I don't wish i11. to my offender, but I certainly clri't wish him wel~?' ThiL df course, is nonsense; for the well-wishifig of trde~ch~rity is deliberate sup~erna~ural well-wishing, the oobject of'which is the true supernatural good of the neighbor. Such well-wislii'i~g is not"impossible' for anyone. "And any one who is unwilling to cultivate such good will.has not really forgiven his offender: Foi~giveness of an offense does not mean the waiving of the right to rep~irati0n for harm don~.' If an o~ffen~h has harmed n~y reputa-tioia° or caused me property loss, I ah~ not ~nforgiving merely because I insist that the harm to reputation or proRerty be repaired. Al~o, forgiveness is compatible withr insistence on a just punishment for an offense; for even God inflicts 'punishments after~ having forgiven an offense. However, when human beings insist on punishment after exiaressing forgiveness, theymust remember that they are not °God and that their motives migh~t be suspect. For instance, if a fellow-religious offends me and then sincerely expresses his sorrow, and I still insist on revealing the matter to, the superior so that my offender may be ~unished, it is quite likely that my forgiveness is not whole-hearted. The foregoing observations indicate, at least in a vague sort oL way, what forgiveness is not. But what is it? Real forgiveness seems, to reduce itself to this: a sincere wil.lingness to restore the bond that existed before the quarrel, insofar as that is reasonably possible. But what if the bond was an ~ntimate friendship? Moralists usually say that there is no strigt obligation for the offended party to re-admit his offender t6 such intimacy. They say that since intimate friend-ship is s.omething to which no one has a claim, the restoration of such friendship can hardly be urged as an obligation. The strittoobliga-, tion, therefore, is usually satisfied when the offender is given those' marks of charity that have previously been described as common. The statement that forgiveness does not demand the re-establish-ment of an i~itimate friendship can be misleading. It seems to me that each case must be judged according to its own circumstances; and certainly there are occasions when the refusal to re-establish an GERALD KELLY intimate friendship after one quarrel (and perhaps a trifling one) is unreasonable, as' well as un-Christlike. However, if even a trifling quarrel is sufficient to undermine the confidence of the offended party in his offending friend, perhaps it is just as well that the friendship cease. When should .the first step towards reconciliation be taken? Moralists wisely suggest that it is generally expecting too much of an offended person to ask him to be reconciled immediately after a quarrel. He is entitled to a "cooling off" period. Normally this need riot be long; but the offender is justified in postponing his expression of sorrow until what seems to be an opportune time. In many quarrels it is difficult to determine who was the first offender; both exploded more or less simt~Itaneously. Theologians solve this one by saying that the one who committed the more serious offense has the duty of taking the first step towards recon-ciliation. However, it must be admitted that this rule is also hard to apply~becau~e, at least in the eyes of the participants of thequarrel, the Other party seems generally the more guilty. As a matter of fact, daily experience sliows us that no sit of merely mechanical rules concerning the duties of offender and offended is perfectly s.atisfactory. The only really satisfactory solu-tion to the difficulties that follow upon quarrels is that each party should be willing to take the initiative in reconciliation. After all, most of the difficulty for both parties is embarrassment. Frequently both want to make up, yet each is afraid to take the first step; and unfortunateIy this mutual embarrassment can lead to long and pain-ful estrangements that could have been settled in a moment by a Christlike attitude and a sense of humor. And I believe we can conclude this article on the same note. In the body of the article, I have outlined the duties of loving the neighbor. It is well for everyone to know these and fulfill them. But it is also well to note that the~e state a minimum. The Chris-tian ideal, which is certainly the religious ideal, is to strive each day for perfect fulfilment of Our Lord's words: "Love one another as I have loved you." 312 The-Docl:rine ot: John oJ: :he Cross J. E. Breunig, S.J. ASHORT TIME after St. Teresa met the two men who .were to found the Order of Discalced Carmelites,,,~he descriptively announced to the nuns during recreation:Ihave found a monk and a half." The half-monk was John of the Cross, just five-feet- two in his sandals. On another occasion she wrote of him in a letter: "'El cbicO is small in stature but he is great in God's ~yes." The little Carmelite lived in Spain during the last half of the sixteenth century. In spite of his physical limitations he made a success of his life. He was canonized by Benedict XIII in 172'6 ~hd"twb cen~turi~s la~er in 1926 Plus XI declared him a Doctor of the Universal Church. By conferring her doctorate on St. John, all of whose works are on mystical theology, the Church not only shows her esteem for mystical studies and puts her stamp of approval on the saint's works, but also points to the cultivation of the supernatural as a remedy against excessive naturalism. The recent, doctor's cap makes John a saint of our own day, while the title, Doctor Of the Universal Church, seems to indicate that his doctrine is not just for his Carmelite breth-ren (and sisters) but for the world. To appreciate the elevation of mystical theology w.e might com-pare it with philosophy and dogmatic theology. With reason alone man can arrived at natural wisdom. With reason and faith he can advance worlds beyond to theological wisdom. With faith and the divine operations of God within the soul, man can attain mystical wisdom, a knowledge different in kind and immeasurably higher in degree. As Aristotle is surpassed by Aquinas, St, Thomas Aquinas in his writings is, in a way, eclipsed by. St. 2ohn 6f the Cross. We might pause here to recall that the mystical life is a super-natural state above the ordinary life of faith and below the beatific vision. Since mystery is inseparable from~'~the supernatural;~ the wonder is not that the mystical life is fraught with mystery. The wonder is rather that~the genius of John of the Cross is able to pene-trate into the deep things of God and trace for us the divine action in the generous soul almost from the time of the infusion of sanctifying 313 ¯ J. E. BREUNIG Reoieto for RUi~lions grace until it reaches~ the highest state possible to man, the trans- 'forming umon,,:a ~half-step from the beattfic umon. Two qualifications-psepared John for his delicate analysis and d~cription of"th~:div'i~e~perai'ions. He was a teacher and he was a m~ ystkc. As a teacher he possessed that mark of genius that Aristotle calls' thd "~iftg6f metaphor." In other words, he knew how to explain. There is hardly a page in his ~writings that is not illumined by. an~ apt ,dlustrat~on that ~bnngs,out. the heart of the. matter. As a mysti6he practiced and experienced what he taught. Enduring trials and humdlatmns, 2ofin lieed an~,intense life of prayer, self-denial, add hard work. In return, God raised him to higher states of prayer, where after more interior suffering he attained the highest union. 'He climbed every inch of the bare rock of Mt. Carmel before he wrote. He experienced the dark night of the soul and the living flame of love before he described-them. ~t is one thing to have a taste'for great literature, quite another to undhrstand what makes it great, and still a third to write great litera-ture. According to St. Teresa, there is a similar threefold gift in mysticism. To be raised to a higher form of prayeris'~0ne gift. To understand the delicate divine movements is another, while a third and greater gift is the ability to describe these states of soul. Like Teresa, St. :John of 'the "Cross possessed all three gifts in a high de~rde.~ Besides, he was able:to express his thought~ ,in'language tha~ does not blush when placed among the masterpieces of Spgin's Golden Age. " "John ~6f th~ Cros~ ~trace§~ the "cou~e of the' divin~-~3i~erations Within the soul, describing the growth of the marvelous friendship between the soul and God. He does this in four books which together equal less than a thousand pages. Briefly, the books treat of the summits of love and of, the' path that leads there. Two books, The Ascent of Mount Carmel and The Dark Nigl~t oF the Soul; point out the path. The other two, The Spiritual Canticle and The Livin9 Flame o~ Love, describe the summit. In reality, all four bobkd develop a single theme. The books that tell of the via ad, such as The ,Ascent, briefly but explicitly describe the summit, the terminus. On the other hand, The Livin~j Flame, while speaking, primarily of ¯ the~ terminus,-repeats the lessons of the via ad. John has ~/ single theme: complete union with God ,is the fruit of absolute renunciation of self. ~ "He that loses his life shall save it." In his own words: "I(i's irripossible, if the soul does as much as in it 314 November° 1948 THE DOCTRINE OF ST. JOHN OF THE CROSS . lies, that,God should fail to.perform His o~n part by communicating Himself to the soul. It is more impossible than that'the sun should fail to shine in a serene and uncloudeff sky: for as the sun when it rises in th~ morning will enteroyour house if you open the shutter, even so ;~ill God~ Who sleeps n6vin keeping Islael, still less slumbers, enter the soul that is empty and fill it with Divine blessings. God, like the sun, is above our souls and.ready to dommunicate Himsel~ to thdm." (E. A. Pee~s, The'Works of St. John of, the Cross, III, 185.7 'Generally; th~ highest point-in a region willq~ive the best view of the'.surroundings. Similarly, perhaps, we can obtain "the best view of the doctrine of St, John.if.we:see the summit of Mount Carmel before w'e look at the rocky road that' leads there. In other words, we will first look where 2ohn is leading before-0~ve see how he leads~ The final:goal which the Mys[ical Doctor bf the Church ~roposes is nothing less th~an ~ transforming uhion°of,the soul'with~God. As he himself salts:. '~if the soul. attain to ~he'~last~ ~tegree,"the 16ve of God~ will succeed in wounding the sdul even in its: remotest "and deepest centre that~is, in transfor'ming and enlightening'it as regards all its being and power affd virtue, such as it is capable' of receiving, until .it be brought into such a state that it appears to be God:" (Works, III, 124.) In a ~passage~ where we seem to catch the heart,beat of God John describes the same union more at length: "As each living crea- , ~ ture lives by its operation, the soul, having its operations ~n God, through the union'it has with God, lives the life of God, and thus ¯ its death has been changed into life. For.the understanding, which bdfore this union°understood in a fiatural way with the stren.gth and vigour of its natural~light, by means of the bodily senses, is now .movedand informed-by another and. a higher principle, that of the supernatu.ral light og God, and, the senses having l~een set aside, it has thus'been changed into the Divine, for through union~its under-standing and that 6f God are now both one. And the will which' b~fore loved with its natural affection, has now been Changed in~tb "the life of Divine love; for it loves after a lofty manner with~Divihe aff~ction~-~hd is moved b,y 'the powers'and str.ength of the Holy Spirit: in whom it now li~,es the life o~ love, since, through this union, its will and His will ~ire now only one." (Works, III, 1~5.7~8:) In this high state the soul becomes aware of it~'sharing in the divine nature, the shaii~ag that it first received at the infusion of sanctifying grace. -"The flame of love is the Spirit of 'its Spouse--~' that is; the Holy Spirit. And this flame the souI.feels within it, not only as a fire that has consumed and transformed it in sweet Io,ie, but also as a fire which burns within it and sends out flame, ,:i'nd ,that flame, eacbxime that it breaks into flame, bathes ,the soul: in glory-and refreshes it with tile temper of Divine life.". (Works,~III, 1190 It seems that mystics, in some way, experience, and verify the truths we learn,in dogma, and hold by faith. In the transforming union the soul sees" in God~ all the divine attributes. "WhenHe is united to ,the soul and He is then pleased to reveal knowledge to i~, it is able to see in Him all these' virtues and grandeurs distinctly---~namely, omnipotence; wisdom and goodness, mercy and soforth., each of these attributes is a"lamp~,which gives lightxo the soul and gives it also,the heat of 10re." (Ibid., 163.) Fur-ther, 7The soul is able to see how all creatures above and below, have their life and strength and,duration in Him. And this,is, thergreat delight.of xhis awakening: to know: creatures through,Godsend riot° God through creatures.'; (Ibid., 209.) St. John sumsul5 this state: '~The_unders~tanding of the soul is now: the .understanding~of God: and its will is the will of God; and its memory is the memory of God; and its delight is the delight of God; and the Substance °of the soul, although it is not the Substance of God is nevertheless united 'and "absorbed in Him and is thus God by. participation in God, which cq.m. e,s to, pass in this perfect state of the spiritual life, .although not so perfectly as in the next life." (Ibid., 159.) - , The union in.this sublime state is~ twofol~d:~ moral and, psycho-l? gical. The~oral union is the almost pe.rfect c~onformioty ofthe human will to the divine. The psycholgg!c~al ,Enion means that the ppwers of the soul, the mind and will, ~act.in.a specific.a!ly different, s.uperhuman manner. According to St. John~ they a~ct divinely. In spite of the closeness of the union:, the Carme[ite Doctor. is always, careful to note tha~ the human and, div~ine:art distinct. He tries to s.how this in tl~e following comp, atisp~:; "He. that.: ~s:" joined" " the Lord is made one spirit with Him;.even~.,asowh'en the light of.the star,or of th~ ~n~dle is joined an.~ united with, that~of:he sun, sootha_t that which shines is not the star or the candle but th_e sun: ~which, has absorbed the other lights in itsel'~" (Work~, .II., 308):~ We would expect the road to such a loftyheight to be steep and rocky. And it i~.We sav~ that in the very highest union there were still two separate principle.s, God and the soul. The same is true for tile journey to the oheigh~s. As on the summit, so in theoascent God's . 3~16 November, 1948 THE DOCTRINE OF ST. JOHN OF THE CROSS action predominates; but the soul must co-bperat¢ at every step. Pre-supposing this, we can say that John of the Cro~s proposes two means togrow, inGod: absolute mortification and the contemplation of the dark night of the soul. Doctor o/: Nothing The Carmelite Doctor insists on absolute mortification, a total war on self. "The soul must be stripped of all things created, and of its own actions and abilities namely, of its understariding, liking and feeling so that, when all that is unlike God and unconformed to Him is cast out, the soul may receive the likeness of God: and nothing will then remain in it that is not the will of God and it will be transformed in God" (Works, I, 80). The classic expression of John's extreme stand is contained in the following maxims from The Ascent of Moun.t Carmel in a passage which has com~ to be called "The Canticle of the Absolute." Strive always to choose, no'~ that which is easiest, but th,at.~hich is:most difficult; ~,~ . . Not that which gives mo~t pleasure, but rather that which gives least;, .,~ ~ N~t that, which is restful, but that which is wearisome; In "order, to, arrive at having pleasure in everything, Desire to have pleasure in nothing." In,order to arrive ~t possessing everything, Desire to possess nothing. In order to arrive at,knowing ,everything,- , Desire to,knowj nothing . There are three pages of insttuctiorts s~mil~t to these (Worlts~ I, 60-63). Is it surprising that many of his .fellow Spaniards called him Doctor de, la Nada, Docf0r of Nothing? Doctor o: the Dark Night John of the Cross is also called the Doctor iof the Dar~ Night. Unfqr.tgnat.ely,.this title gives the impression~ that his dQc~tti.ne is negative. Darkness and night are not attractive words.' On the other hand, the. title, is appropriate if we take it as representing,~is most distinctive contribution to my:stical theology, There have been other doctors of.nothing. In fact, weighty tomes on mortification .are stacked high. On the other side, volumes which relate the glories of the transforming union fill the cases. 317 J. E., BREUNIG . .7 t~eoieuJ, for R~ligious However,, the. shelf devoted to the'bi[ter affd painful, side df.themys-tical life is practically empty. " ' -~ ,~ :":°.~ ~: " ;~Jbhn Ventured into this ~'~icharted 'sea, this nwman s land: ~(Per~ haps, "No God's Land" might be a bett&'.description ofothis 15eri6d.) In this particular work are revealed in a .special manner the saint's rare talents: "the precisi0n'6f hi~ psycho10gical analysis, the revealing ¯ nature" of his" cdmp~irisons, the penetration Whdr'ewi~h Be can" recog-raze t'he, w~rk of ,divine .grace developing beneath, th'( mahtler0f. :th~ m6st ~v~ned experiences ~(Fath~f~Gabri~l',bf Saint Mary M.agd.afe~', St~"Jdl~onf. th"e C~ ro"~ss , 4 ",4).- '" °' ,~ '~' best~ treatment '6f~-the dar~ nig.h{'is 4i3und"in~hi~ bool{ 6~ th{:s~fne name. Tl% darl~ night" of the s6fil is" a'sta~ o~ irifus&l' templation, aohn calls it a da~k 'nig.tjt l~'ecause, 7~aiad6xit~lly,?th{' {~hscer~d~nee'of the' idfuse~dF light blinds the unde~standi'rig.~" :'The s6"ul is lik an oivl' ih sunlight.' 'Further, this state 'is painful' the understanding ,s msufficlently~&spo{ed to re&ire Such is the general idea. John distinguishes t~6~':0~i6ds~ 'th~ night ~f" the S~n~es~ followed by a. period of ¢on~ol~tidn', an~basis;~an~ the night of t~e spirit. According to the Mystical Doctor, the nigh~ of the senses-is commonly reached by most ~souls ~who~ g~Te, themselves generously to a life of-prayer. The n~ght of the which precedes the transforming, union, is reached by fe~.~ ~. ;~ The night of the senses is"primaiily a period ~faridit~'ind~ced, not by any carelessness, but by the direct, a~fion of God.~ ~hd~ the soul gives itself generously, to prayer, it ;frequenfly~experlences sen-sible consolation. Even after this consolation ceases,Athe soul~con-tinues .t6:meditate witfi a certain,success, : Then gradunlly theFsoul ho' lon(er finds any~sa~isfactionin meditatio~-but,~ on'the contrary, finds it strangely impossible ,t6 meditate, T~e soul iscpu~zled, anxious. Through no fault of its own, it seems abandoned by God. The soul might well ~dhsider ~tself m No G3~'s Land. St. John's ge~i~ r&ognized ~hi~ state '~and~ gave all ~future spiri~ffaP dire&3~ and theol3~iafis three s"~gn~s b'y which t~eyc"o u'l d r e'c o"gmze~ thd samd: '" Th~ fir~ sign-isgh (ertaifl ,~istast~, f~f G6d arid' for'creatures~as wd112: ~The a6ul find~ it~ di$cu1~to~ugyqtself:'~bdfit G~di~t~a~ th( same time .it has ~& t~ste "f6~'&reature~ d6~f6~s~' This si~n~d~stin'~ guisbe~ "divihe~ aridity''~ from aridit~ause~ bf-Unfaithfulhdis~ for the sdul d&S no~ desire to seek itl consolation in ordinary p1~asut~s. This is ~ cl~r sigfi;~for God does not ~rmit the s0ul'he is ieadihg tb 318 Noverabe~o 1948 THE DOCTRINE OF ST. JOHN OF'THE CROSS higher' prayer fo;be .drawn.-aside'by,any.thing l~ss than~Himself:. Its. The second sign~,Tthe anxiet~r about servifig God,,di~tin~uishes thi~ state from -liiKewarmness; ffor;, by thd very definition, the 16kewarm are not. particulfirlW concerned about affer¢en t service of God: Inability to meditate, th~ 'third sign, tends to increase; anff, it can be distinguished b~. that fa(t from an~ inability that mighf ~bd caused by ill health and the like. St. 2ohn accounts for this:strange inability, to meditate. ~ In this'~tate og "divine aridity" God no longe/ c6mmunicates Himself through 'the.channels of sense or in consecu-tive reflectiohs but in pure spirit;.ahd pure spirif by its very nature has~ nbthing to~do ~it~ the~c6m~ar~tively gross actiohs' of "the imagination,ahd r~asdn.~ 2ohn thfis,shows,us fhat God is very mucfi present iff What ~as considered a,]and without Grid. ¢ In his book, The ~pirit~al ~L[~ (6~4),~ Ta~q~erey gives an'~ comments 6n'St['~J~hn's'ad~i~e"f6i'~ ~6ul qfi th~ dark hight: . ~or if a ma~ while sit'tifnogr~,,'h "~'s "p'o~rt'r"ai t. .c.a.:n' n~ot ~be s,till but: mov~ about, ~he [painte~ will.never de~i~ his face; 'and "eveff the. work already doh'e';wiil'b~spoiled)~ 'Ifi the sam~ way when "the i~(eriorly'fests, ~very actioh and, ~ssion~'~o~ ~.xious c6nsid~ration at .that~time will distract and .~is~u~b it;'~ ~so who,'God ~ntg fO i~p~int H~s li~ness uthpeotrn s o¯u ~ls ;' a -ffd s~us~p .e.n.d.s. the acnwty of [heir¯ f~ulti~s, tfiey have b~t ¢t6~ ab~de '.i~d~d,.~nd~ ~thf6d~h'~.~hi~ peat~"the gpifit 0f lo~(~ will flare~,up "arid "burn more brightly ~thm them. :~Tfiis'sf~te~of~ repose ~is by ~a~ m~ns 6he of ina~ti0n: if.is rat~e~'~ different":~kind','of.occupanon," ":"" ~. .W.hi~fi excludes: ' "sloth"~ '" l~nguor~" ,T~e~ mus~ therefd~e:~l';flistractibns, ~hd i~'in'ofder't~ o so they mffst:r~turn tb cofi~deranofis, let t~em not hemtate; pro~ ~ided~ th~ ~cah acc6~plis~, this "Withofit violeft ffOrts." : ' . A~otding, t~ John/6~ ~fi~" Ct6~g.:ihe:~ight o~ th~ ~eh~e~ ~e~e~ail~ lasts'a long'ti~.'" It varies wit~eadH ~dul. ~'St~ T~r~sa i~ Sai~f6 beeh in the d~rk'night, of t~,soM 'e~h~h yiars:St-),Fr~hc~s fff Asiiii/ -two ~yefirs~:T ' h.~.s. .num- .b.e.r. .s.eemst ,t.o ,-include fi~tht~e .~ m "g"'ht'of t~e senses'and o~,the s itif~¢ ~"-.' ~"~; ' ~ " '~r~.The ~hi~ht~ of t~ Spirit 'ii a pfir~atory on earth. ~Agam~"there s~emsto b~'n6Gdd fdr th~ a~icted's0fil. ,Much ~f ~he pain ~esfilts from ~he ver~ li~t bf contemplation. The soul" becomes aware~of how absolutely traHscend~t God" i~. ~ ':Sdzed by a profouffd zation of qts e~tieme '~iritual~ b6v~ity, the' souF is aw~r~ '0f' impression of ~nsurmounta~le sadness, or even of a temptation ~to despair. How could' G6~ lov~ a creature so vile, so abject] Th'~ J. E. BREUNIG " : soul suffers indescribable, torture:-there are moments When its laments become~ real cries of.angu sh. (Gabriel;.op: ¯ - God'~ action ~it~ this time is~compared to fire." ~",Tl~e purgative and loving knowledge or Divine light acts' upon the soul, in the same way as fire acts upon a log of wood in order to transform° it into itself: for m~ter.iaF fire, first of all begins to dry it, ,by driving out the moisture and causing it to shed th~ whter it co'ntains. Then it 10egins to make it black, dark and-unsightly, and, astir dries it little by little, it brings out and drives aw~r all~the dark and, unsightly accidents~which are c6ntrary to the nature of fire; 'Finall)~, it begins to kiiadle it.externally afido'give~it heat ~ind" at last~transforins it into itself and makes it as beautiful as fire." (~Works, I, 429:) "Ought not Christ to have suffered?" St. 5ohn~explains that this intense suffering results entir.ely from love. God purifies the soul in order tot raise it to the closest union with' Himself . A glo-rious Easter morning follows the dark night of Good Friday., We see St. 2ohn is a ,Doctor of Nothing and a Doctor of. the Dark Night only because he isfundamentally the Doctor,of Divine Love. Again, we are.on the lofty sgmmit~,gf Carmel, for the state c~ the transformi~ng union follows on the dark night. As we .look back, we see that the road has been rugged. In fact, the sheer cliff 9f Car-me1 is humanly unassailable. However, we saw that when the soul strips itself of self, when the soul drags itself up by means 0f ordinary p.ray~er an~ selg-deniaI, the Divine :.Guide~ takes its hand and with. i.nfused prayer leads the~ soul throug.h the arid land of the night'of the senses, then through the pur~i,fying fires of the night 9f the spirit until .together the peaks of pe~rfect~0n and love are reached. We conclude with a passage~.of sunshine from the little Doctor of the Universal Church. "The Father of" Lights, whose arm is not shortene~dl.but stretched out.~idely, without res, pect of persons, where-e~ cer it finds rogm, likd~th,e r~ay of the s,u.n . . . is greatly pleased to share His delights with the children of ~e.n on earth~ - No, ,it is not to be held a thing incredible that in a soul already cleansed, tried in the ,fur~nace of tribulations, of labors, and of divers temptations, and ~ound faithful in love, there will be fulfilled here below those .words wher.eby the Son of God promised that if,any man love Him the Most Hgly Trinity would come and abide in him,: ~that is to say, divinely~.enlightening ~is .understanding in the .wisdom of the Son, ddighting.~his will in the Holy Spirit whilst the Father absorbs him mightil¢ in the abyss of His sweetness." (Gabriel, op. cit, 19.) 320 May a super,oress use fh~ int~rest~ 6f dowries-and-legacies belofig;~ng to the Sisters for commumty purposes o'r for educational projects? After the first profession, the d~wry is to be invested in a man-ner that is safe, lawful, and prqductive according to canon 549. The revenue coming from the invested dowry can be devoted to the sup-pbff of the community or to the education of the Sisters. The.Code does not liinit the use of the revenue. Strictly speaking, the dowry can be invested even before the profession of a Sister, but on!~l°with her consent. In this case the institute could also use the, r~venue for. the good of the community. T'hi~ Subject is treated thor0ughly bs; Schaefer, De Religiosis, n6: 229. F~ther Ellis has also treated the Canons on the dowry in Vol. III, pp, 224 ff. of this REVIEW. Legacies usually ~i~hei" cofistitute a Si, ster'soproperty or are added to it. The disposition of the revenu~ of-l~acies therefore, will be regulatedb~" canon' 569,~,§ § ,1 aiad 2.- The beneficiary of the revenue is-freely indicated'~by fla~,religious @ho makes the cession of her property, the appointment of an administrator, arid the'~assignment of ,the revenue. If" the' Sister l~efore her first profession, m~ke~ the institute~the beneficiary of the revenue, then. of course, ~uperiors may use,it for the good of the-institfite. Educational prbjects~would undoubtedly be included. Is the following case ;n conform;h/with common life? Sister J. ;s g;gen permisson to travel for recreational purposes~be~ause her relafive~ are supplying her the necessary funds. If in a given community lawful custom permits travel as a form of relaxation, permission for such trips should not be contingent upon the economic status of the relfitives of the religious wh6' ~sks for such a permission. Common life calls for equality in these iiaat-ters. While such a partial way of acting may contributd to the balancing of the budget, it also makes a mockery of common life. The Code ;n canon 504 prescribes the age of forty'for superiors gen- 32[ eral and the age of thirty for other major superiors. Is there an age at which su, per!ors mustretire from office? The Code makes no provision for a retirement age for superiors. The ills attendant upon age come to some sooner, to others later. Infirmity due to age willdoubt]es~ l~ompt~the true religious to resign fron~ airy office w'hicl~: J~e considers l~yond~,~his physic~ or'menta! capacity. Would you kindly enlighten us on the following polnt~s 'concerning ~h~ ~'~cltafibn if fh~ rosary? I.'To" gain the in_dulgences attached to the recitation of .the rosary, i-~ it~necessary to recite the Creed. the Our'lFather, and the fhr~ee Hail Ma~rys before'begignlng the five decades? 2~ Must the mystery be mentioned-before the recitation of each decade? " 3. If the rosary is recited twice (i.e. I0 decades) 9n agiven day, what mysteries are~to be meditated upon? ¯ . 4. Where can I find some information 9n~he~recitatlon of the rosary? ° 1. Th~ rosary in its strlct~st sense cbnsists of the Our Fatl~er and ten Hail Marys recited fifteen times, or five times if one is reciting only a third part of the rosary. The, Glory be to the Father etc., were added some, time after the rosary,had been in usal~e among the faith-ful. Hence, the recitation.of the Creed, the Our Father, and'the three Hail Mar~s are not necessary to gain the indulgences attached fo the recitation of the rosary. 2. There is no necessity to-. mention the mystery before each decade;" -~:. 3; If, for,,example, on a Sunday after Pentecost, two-thirds 6f the entire rosary (or ten decades) were recited, the sequence of the mysteries should be .followed so that the.glorious mysteries, should be recited last: The other five decades, whether commemorating the jo,yful or the sorrowful mysSeri.es, should precede"the glorious mys-te, rjes~ . 4. Among other sources of information on'the rosary, we recommend an article by Father Ellis, "Our Lady's Rosary,~' REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, V, 324. A Rosary Project, published by the Queen's Work, .likewise gives much valuable information concerning the recitatioa of~the rosary. 322 ommun ¢a ons Reveren'd Fathers." In the September REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, there is a communica~ t~on~ from "Old-fashioned'i' '~hat' should give us all 'thought ~r meditation. The only' s~tatement in the communication with which I take issue is the one that states that "worldliness is 'creeping~ .into the religious life." It ib not merely "creeping" in; it is already there, and there with a bang. Are. we goingl to treat it as we do, the weather? Every6ne talking about it; no one doing anything abouf it. Are there no courageous leaders in any of our communities? A good strong ~religious govern-ment could work wonders; one that is not afraid to act according to' its convictions. What will it profit to have a large progressive com-munity~ to have leaders in every field of activity, if the members are not attaining the purpose for which they 'entered religion--the glory of God, the salvation of their own souls. ' ~ Would it not be far better, regardless:of the nee~ for Sisters in our schools and hosl~it'~Is~" if we ~had still fewer but bette~r religious? What will it avail to have a' million worldly nuns, if by their very worldliness they are defeating the purpose for which the rel~igious life was established? ' If we can do nothing else, let us ~ray to the:Holy Spirit, that He may raise up some modern Teresas of Avila, who will have the courage to say to those who oppose them, as our Divine Lord said long ago to some of His followers, those who found His saying hard, "Will you also go away?" And we know that some did .go away and walked no more with Him. Would it not be better ~o have the faithful few really walking with Chroist, and working and .fighting for Him, than to have a million or more walking on the broad road that leads to dkstruction ?---A PROVINCIAL. Reverend Fathers: From my own ~ad experience, I know something about worldli-ness. It is a spirit opposed to the spirit of Christ. A religious "may become infected in various ways: by too great absorption in external occupations; by wasting time with seculars; by unnecessary corre-spondence; by uncalled for exemptions from Holy Rule; by morbid interest in secular reading and programs; by inordinate attachments 323 BOOK REVIEWS Review [or Religious to persons, places, and things. A worldly religious who loves and uses the world inordinately will find prete*l~S for shortening or missing her prayers and spiritual. exercises, and that without regret. She will find satisfactibn in the .company of seculars, seeking their applause and delighting in their flatteries. She may even sacrifice principles or points of. Holy Rule in order to curry the favor of the rich and influential for purposes of ~mbiti0n or worldly pleasures.She will find little or no time for spiritual reading, but claims she must read secular matter in order to keep abreast of the times. After listening to a conversation of a certain religious, an elderl7 gentleman remarked, "I didn't think that Sisters were so well-informed on such matters." A worldly religious does not enjoy the peace and contentment of convent life. The warnings of well-meaning companion ~ Sisters are ignored, and the corrections of kind and vigilant superiors are resented. She becomes disgusted and dissatisfied, and blames others for her" unhappiness. Can worldliness be cured? In my case, I was removed from the place to which I was so much attached. At the new mission, a reli-gious priest came to help out for some time. In confession he set me right in prayer. After a short but intensive prayer-fife, I fell in love witl'J God again; and then worldly attractions gave Way to the soul-satisfying joys of the spirit.TEACHING SISTER. Book Revie ,s EXILE ENDS IN ~LORY: The I.~e of ~ Tr~ppisfine. By Thomas Medon. Pp. '~i~ q-~'31 ~. The Bruce Publ~sh~ncj Company, Milw~aukee,:' 1948. $3.75. During her lifetime complete obscurity cloaked the activities of Mother Berchmans; and, but for her biographer, she would still be unkflowri save to the few Trappistine nuns~ who visit her grave in Hakodate, Japan, Put in a convent orphanage at three and a half years of age, she lived entirely apart from the world save for a year or two as a young woman after her graduation from. the orphanage school. Even within the convent her life was one without incident. 324 November, 1948 BOOK,REvIEWS Her entrance into the Trappistine convent at Laval, and ~her subse-quent journey to help the~st~ruggling foundation in Japan are_ the s01e "events" in her short life. 'She died"in 19,15 at 38.-years of age.° But lack of outward incident does nov leave her life story de~ioid of interest. From the record of her interior life drawn from her let~ ters and ~oersbnal papers,,and from the testimony of ~her, confessor- and religious acquaintances,~ it is clea~ that hers was~a life Of exalted sanc-tity:~ of sanctity, however, with nothing ~singular about it exter-nally. ,No ektraor'dinary phenomena nor dramatic suffering singled her out from her sisters in the convent. Her cross was her voluntary exile-from,her native Franceand the beloved convent at Laval. "She was to suffer," writes~,her biographer, "the ordinary, obscure, puri-fying trials of work and desolation and sickness which are the, com-mon lot of alFrelig~ous, more or less: but'~she was to suffer them with an extraordinary degree, of trust and loire and abandonment." ~ Thomas Merton, recognized poe~t hnd student of English litera-ture, brin~Os to the writing:of this biography no mean background no~ meager'talents. Himself~a,,~Trappist monk since 1941, he is prepared to "deal understandingly and sympathetically with his .subject. SOULS AT STAKE: "By Frar~cis J. Ripley and F. S. Mitchell. Pp. xl -k 198. Joseph F. Wagner, Inc., New York, 1948. Though written by a~i~t~fidh, layman whose paramount interest is the Legion of Ma~y, this bpgk~i.s not limited in its scope to that laudable form of the l~iy~postolate. It is a book about Catholic Action in general, ,~and the authors explicjtly:s~ate their, belief .tha.t the success ~ofiCatholic Action depends on a multiplic.ity of lay.organ_iza.~ tions,~ even though.the purposes ofs0me of these m.ay overlap. no space is devoted specifically to an exposition of the Legion of.Mar~y The first chapterqs a vivid portrayal of a 16art o~ the. meditation on the T.wo Standards. The devil~is surrounded by his represerita~- rives fr'om various mOdern~ countries, and he*tells.each °on~ what must be done in his country to further the satanic aims. 'The authors then give ~.a brief account of the political, social, educational, cultural;._and religious collapse of the present age. Part of the blame for these 'lamentable-modern conditions must be placed onthe apath~ of~ lay Th~ basic principl~s for any l~y organizatiofi of Cattiolic.Action 325~ BOOK N~TIeES Revieu3 [or Religious are °presented, and then expanded ,i~ siabsequent parts of the: book. The" ~uthots insist' 6n~ th( need~Of personal tontac~-to w~n They:issfie,~dive~se cautio~s. ~O~n~of these .has ~tO dd wit~, bver-idsistence ~n knowledge and orbed'purely natural endowments m the Ia¢, apostle.~ Another~ecti~s"themo~etn tendency to overemphasize " the sodaF apostolate. '~" YeUanotBer~caIis:; attention ~o, the failure~ of out Ca~h01ic schools to p~o'duce zealous,,gtaduates. These ate "presented objectively a~d charitably so that they elicit self-examinati6n, not resentment. The authors believe in ~he direct teligious~appto~.ch to non,Catholics, the ~a~e method that-~as used by the apostles themselves; ahd it is di~cult to.s~e how their argu-ments for such a direct approach can be refuted. In sucha book one wsuld expect marly exaggerations. Yet the 6ook in general is well-balanded. It is most regrettable, however, that the" ~titers ma~e t~e following assertion: "The universities founded by the Religious of the Catholic Church and supposed to be the centers of culture, are soaked t~roug~ a~d through with the false ~rindples of the new materialism . " The authors would be hard put to substantiate that statemenk. Aside from this and a few other exaggerations of lesser importance, the book stays on an even keel. Priests, Brothers, Sisters, and laymen will~pro~t from it. C. R. ~CA~L~S, S.3. BOOK NOTICES RELIGIbUS,'LIFE IN. CHRIST, by. Father° Theodosius Fdley, O.F.M.Cap.~ former provincial of his order and p~sent-~uperior Of the" Mt. Alverno Retreat House in Appleton, Wisconsin, contaifis thirteen coffferences for religious. These deal with some'of the funda-mentals of religious life, such as humility, worldliness,' suffering, tepidity, spiritual-childhood, simplicity,-and~ the obligatiori of striving for i~erfection. A chapter on self-deceit reveals the author's penetrating insight into the various ways that religious can fool them-selves. ~The 150ok is pradtical rather than inspirational. It makes frequent appeals t6Our Lord's own v~0rds and example. Itsstyle is simple, clear,-concise. Few ~ords are wasted. It is a book that can be used profitably "by? religious both ~for spiritual reading and.for points for meditation. (Milwaukee: The Bruce Publishing Com-pahy/. 1948. Pp. vii.+ 163. $2.50:)~ " ¯'326 November, 1948 BOOK NOTI¢~ ~Margaret, princess of Hungary, THE KING'S HOSTAGE, is offered to God before her birth-] She remains true to her dedication, though her parents, the king and queen, try to change her mind. The sweet enchantment of GOd's calling St. Margaret to His service is told for children by E. Virginia Newell in simple storybook fashion with I~he winning interest of a fairy tale. The illustrations are by Pauline Eppink. (St, Meinrad, Indiana: The Grail, 1948. Pp. 68. $1.50.) ABOUT JESUS, a child's life of Our. Lord by C, J. Woolen, relates the story of Christ's life and .gives explanations of Catholic doctrine and moral lessons as well. Though the style is simple enough for a child to understand, the book appears repelling to read --only six black and white illustrations help brighten up the solid print. (Westminster, Maryland: The Newman Bookshop, 1947. Pp. 221. $2.25.) O'Brien Atkinson, in WHAT DO You TELL THEM? develops a sixty-four-word answer to the' questi0n: Whji are 9ou a Catholic? He also treats such timely and isolasteudbj e c "ts 'as the existence of God, mixed marriages, religious tolerance, good will, ~he school question. The talks, used in actual street preaching, show how non-Catholics can be answered respectfully, briefly, and somewhat satisfact.orily. (New York: Joseph F. Wagner, Inc., 1948." Pp. 168.) THE WAY TO GOD, by Father Winfrid Herbst, S,D,S., is intended to serve for practical meditations during retreat, for daily. meditations, or for spiritua! reading. In a general way the first half of the book follows the "first' week" of the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius; the remainder treats of various subjects, for example, The Holy Eucharist, the Passion, Our Lady. The s, tyle is designedly simple, even colloquial~ There is often a lack of orderly development of the individual chapters, but each contains good material for reflec~ tion and meditation. The author makes liberal, use of stories to drive home his point, (St. Nazianz, Wisconsin: Salvatorian Seminar% Publishing Department, 1947. Pp. iv + 299. $2.75.) ART AND FAITH contains an exchange of letters between J~cques Maritain and Jean Cocteau. The letters deal with the nattire and meaning of poetry arid with the sociological and politic~il, significance of art itself. The book contains brilliant thoughts on poetry, friend-ship, and philosophy, and shrewd estimates of contemporary French artists and writers.to interest the student of modern French litefa- ,327 BOOK NOTICES ture. (New York: The~ Philosophical Library, $2.75.) Ret~ieto /'or Religious 1948. Pp. 138., A revised and corrected edition of the well-known book, IN CHRIST JESUS, by Raoul Plus, S.$., is now available. The book explains .,the doctrine of our incorporation in Christ and its practical bearing on everyday life. (Westminster, Maryland: The Newman Bookshop, 1948. Pp. xiii -k 207. $2.50.) Father William L. Doty in CATECHETICAL STORIES FOR CHIL-DREN follows the characteristic division of the Catechism into creed, code, and cult. Through the medium of the story, of dialogue, and of daily down-to-earth incidents he breathes life into the dry skele-ton of the Catechism. Certainly here is a book that will appeal to the mind and heart of a child. Religion like a soul is put into the body of a child's day, naturally, as if it belonged there. Guides of the young t~achers, parents, preachers will find this sprightly book the magic key to the wonder-world of a child. (New York: ,loseph F. Wagner, Inc., 1948. Pp. xii q- 176.) T6 the average Catholic, David is the boy who slew the giant Goliath with his sling. Of David, shepherd and ruler, poet and musician, warrior and statesman, sinner and man of God, he knows very little. Mary Fabyan Windeatt in DAVID AND HIS SONGS high- . lights for us the f~scinating story of this second king of the Jews and ancestor of Christ. Cleverly she shows how the Psalms were born of incidents that arose in David's colorful life. They were the spon-taneous cry of his soul touched by life's sweetest joys and sharpest tragedies. In these lyrical songs, evoked by God's hand from the noblest chords of David's soul, we find reflected thedifferent moods that play upon the human soul. That is why the Psalms are such favorites in the Church's liturgy. For the uninitiated, youngsters particularly, ~he book will prove an open sesame to a rich new won-derland of personal, prayerful song. (St. Meinrad, Indiana: The Grail, 1948. Pp. 153. $2.00.) A hundred years ago a small group, pledged to the Thibd Order of St. Fr~incis, accompanied their pastor from Germany to Milwau-kee for the purpose of helping Bishop Martin J. Henni in his new diocese of Wisconsin. They located on land south of Milwaukee where the St. Francis seminary now stands. From this humble 328 November, i948 BOOK NOTICES beginning the Sisters of St. Francis of Assisl of Milwaukee devel-oped. A NEW AssIsI, by Sister M. Eunice Hanousek, is the story of a century's labors by these Sisters, and of their expansion into an important order of religious. Highly commendable is the fact that the author has incorporated the citation of her sources in her work, thus making it more valuable than the run of the mill jubilee publi-cations. 'If the good example set J is followed by other sisterhoods when they write similar histories, another step toward compiling an adequate Catholic history of the United States will have been accomplished. (Milwaukee: The Bruce Publishing Company, 1948. Pp. xiv + 231. $5.00.) WITH DYED GARMENTS, by a Sister of the Precious Blood, sketches the life of Mother Catherine Aurelie (Caouette). The book is a translation from the French A Canadian Mystic. The first part gives the story of the life of the~ Mother Foundress: the second part, an account of her virtues and of her reputation for sanctity. (Brook-lyn: The Sisters Adorers of the Most Precious'Blood, 1945. Pp. xif + 190. $2.50.) LIGHT OVER FATIMA, by Charles C. O'Connell, 'is a fictionalized account of the apparitions of Our Lady to the three children in 1917. A simple narrative of the events is itself so absorbing, that one won-ders why any fiction should be added. However, the book may help to introduce the message of Fatima to those people who never read anything more serious than.a novel, (Cork: The Mercier :Pres.s, 1947; and Westminster, Maryland: The Newman Press, 1948. Pp. 163. $2.50.) BROTHER TO BROTHER, by Henry Brenner, O.S.B., is an exhor-tation to fraternal charity. The book is directed especially to the laity and contains practical applications to everyday life~ (St. Mein-rad,. Indiana: The Grail, 1947. Pp. 92. $1.25.) THE COMMON PRIESTHOOD OF THE MEMBERS OF THE MYS~ TICAL BODY, by James Edward Rea, explains the Catholic doctrine of the common priesthood of the faithful. The book is divided into two parts: the first describes heretical concepts of the doctrine; the second traces the development of the true doctrine. As the author explains, he does not intend to throw new light on the ~ubject but hopes"to 329 BOOK NOTICES p'rep~re tile w~i'y for a mor~ frutiful cc~ntemplation of' the nature hnd ~ignificancd of the p~riestly dignity" of ali the' inert/bets ~6f the'one Priest:" The book was~originally published as a, docto/al dissertation by'~the Catholic University of Ain~ric~. '~ (Westminster, Maryland: The:NewmawBooksh0p, 1947. Pp. ~iii ~,~ The biography of ANNE DU RouSIER~translated from the French by L. Ke~ppe!,,,gives ftbrief but full vie~v of fhe ~_work accomplished and the successes achieved by one of the ear

Issue 2.6 of the Review for Religious, 1943. ; ~ A.M.D.G. Revi ew forReligious NOVEMBER 15, 1 ~ ',.Singing With_÷he Church ¯ Mystic and Man'of Affairs 43 Clement J. McNaspy I~aw of integral Confession . .,' . Geral~d Kelly Mer~:y of the Sacred Heart .if,, . .John P. Lahey Checking- ~ our Spiritual Armor . .~. William F. Kelley Book Reviews Andrew H. Bachhuber Commuhications. QueStions Answered Decisions of the Holy See Index ÷o VolUme Two NUMBER 6 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS VOLUME II NOVEMBER 15, 1943 NUMBER CONTENTS SINGING WITH THE CHURCH--Clement 'j. McNaspy, S.,I .3.45 SOCIAL sERVICE STUDIES . ' . '. .~ . 353 ,JEROME JAEGEN, MYSTIC fi, ND MAN OF AFFAIRS-- Andrew H. Bachhuber, S.2 . 354 SUGGESTIONS FOR SUPERIORS ., . 362 THE LAW OF INTEGRAL CONFESSION--Gerald Kelly, S.,L 363 ON THE CO, MMANDMENTS . 3i72 THE MERCY OF THE SACRED HEART--,John P. Lahey~ S.,L 373 CHECKING OUR SPIRITUAL ARMOR--William F. Kelley, S.2. 379 FOLLOW ME . 385 COMMUNICATIONS '(On ,Vocation) . 386 PAMPHLETS . 394 BOOK REVIEWS (Edited by Clement DeMuth, S.J.)-- S't. ,lohn Capistran; St. Teresa of Avila; Prayer; Catechism of the Religious Profession; "Lest They Assist Passively"; The Dialogue of the Seraphic Virgin, Catherine of Siena: Children under Fire: The Eternal Purpose: Apostles of. the Front Lines: "Companion of the Crucl-fled: The Abiding Presence of the Holy Ghost in the Soul . 395 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS-- 40. Obligation to use Communion Cloth . 406 41, Recitation of Little Office in Choir . 406 42. Novices serving table in boarding school . ' . . . 407 43. Indulgenchs on Plastic Medals and Beads . 407 44. Prayers for~ Pope to be said during visit ~ 408 45. Various ind~ulgences on Rosaries . 409 46. Insurance in Mutual Company not forbidden . 409. DECISIONS OF THE HOLY SEE OF INTEI~EST TO RELIGIOUS411 INDEX TO VOLUME II . 413 ~REVIEW [:OR RELIGIOUS, November, 1943. Vol. II, No. 6. Publishe~l bi-monthly : 3anuary, March, May, 2uly, September, and November at the C~lege Press, 606 Harrison Street, Topeka, Kansas, by St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas, with ecclesiastical approbation. Entered as second class matter January 15, 1942. at the Post Office, Topeka, Kansas, under the act' of March 3, 1879. Editorial Board: Adam C. Ellis,S.J., G. Augustine Ellard. S.J., Gerald Kelly, S.3. Copyright, 1943, by Adam C. Ellis. Permission is'hereby granted fo~ quotations of reasonable length~ prbvided due credit be given this review and the author. Subscription price: 2 dollars a year. Printed in U. S. A.