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Issue 68.4 of the Review for Religious, 2009. ; Theology and Life Religion; Life Models ,Exemplars of Faith Sharing ,Experience QUARTERLY 68.4 2009 Review for Religious fosters dialogue with God, dialogue with ourselves, and dialogue with one another about the holiness we try to live according to charisms of Catholic religious life. As Pope Paul Vl said, our way of being church is today the way of dialogue. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-633-4610 ¯ Fax: 314-633-4611 E-Maih reviewrfr@gmail.com ¯ Web site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 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. ©200~ Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribution, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. ~ gournalof Ca~hohc ~pirituah~y eview for religious Editor Associate Editor Scripture Scope Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming sJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Eugene Hensell OSB Mary Ann Foppe TracT Gramm Judy Sharp Paul Coutinho sJ Martin Erspamer OSB Margaret Guider OSF Kathleen Hughes RSCJ Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Terry Steib SVD QUARTERLY 68.4 2009 contents prisms 340 Prisms 342 353 theology and life Christian Existence and Theology's Relevance Randall S. Rosenberg sketches how the theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar challenges us to ask whether theology is not simply about understanding, but about an understand-ing that includes aesthetic-dramatic encounters. How You Eat Matters A. Paul Dominic SJ draws the implications from sacrifice, meals, and human eating in the Hindu, Jewish, and Christian traditions that all human eating is truly meant to be a religious act. Questions for Personal and Group Reflection 364 379 religious life models Opening a New Window: Fifteen Years after the FORUS Study Patricia Wittberg SC proposes that current religious , congregations consider encouraging social-movement organizations (SMOs) as viable versions for future religious life. Revisiting Religious Identity William P. Clark OMI carefully reflects on how Vatican I! presented religious life and brought a freshness once again to the special vocation offered by God to those consecrated by religious profession. " Questions for Personal and Group Reflection Review for Religious 389 exemplars of faith ~ Encounters Early and Late: John Bosco and Paul Leo J. Heriot SDB draws upon the experience of St. Paul and of St. John Bosco to show how God may communicate with us, telling us to find him in our contemplative awareness of others and ourselves. 395 On Hilda of Whitby Sister Hilda Kleiman OSB reflects on the origins and spirituality behind her new religious name, Hilda, which means "Battle Maiden." 4O4 411 sharing experience ~ World Youth Day and Religious Life William Prospero SJ describes how World Youth Day promotes consecrated vocations by providing young Catholics with a joyful experience of living the evangelical counsels. Marriage and Celibacy: Rivals or Complements? Benny Phang OCarm works from an insight from John Paul lI's Theology of the Body to see the complementarity of the vocations of marriage and celibacy rather than viewing them as rivals. 427 432 443 departments ~ ,~ ~ Scripture Scope: Praying the Psalms with an Elephant in the Room Book Reviews 2009 Index 339 68.4 2009 prisms I n early January 2009, I was told that I had less than a year to live. As I come to write these reflections in our final issue of the year 2009, I share various reac-tions that have been part of the landscape over the past months. My first response to the doctor's prognosis ff)r pancreatic cancer was that it is a gift to be told that one has so many months to live and that an end is in sight. The doctor, of course, went on to give options. I could have an operation, and it would likely add some months. I could also have the operation, followed by chemotherapy/radia-tion, and it would add some months and likely some years. The doctor wanted to give me some time to think about the options, but I immedi-ately agreed with his own stated preference that I would undergo the operation and follow up chemotherapy. It seemed that medically I was in a place where I should follow the biblical injunc-tion, "choose life." The operation seemed to be successful in removing the visible cancer, and the six-month- long chemotherapy treatment has been an experimental study program including a vaccine that eliminates radiation. I have fin-ished the program as of the publication of this issue. Now I live within a wait-and-see time of measurement and ~esting. Revie~v for Religious November remains a church time to remember the dead and remind ourselves of our own mortality. I have been feeling even more attuned to the reality of my own personal dying throughout these past months so that it is easy to celebrate November liturgy. It is nice to be put "on notice"--which is how I consider the identi-fication of my cancer. The likelihood of dying is just made more real and, as it were, within reach. It allows me time to reflect and pray how I face this kind of time, what attitude I want to take, and how I want to use the time I have. It does not seem fearsome or dark. In fact, it seems full of surprises of how God wants to meet me in unexpected ways, sometimes not initially pleasing to me. I seem to be taught a lot about powerlessness, patience, and the goodness of strangers. I also believe strongly in the efficaciousness of the prayer support of others. Advent is a church time of looking forward to new life and especially of our life forever with God. It con-eludes with Christmas, a celebration of how God, in Christ, enters into our human life, never to let it go. Throughout 2009 with all its medical focus, I have con-tinued to be blessed with finding new life and I again look forward to entering into Advent with greater ¯ appreciation. Christmas will be God's own gift to me of celebrating the gift of human life for however many more months and years God intends. With celebrating Christmas, it is good to remember that we were all born to be living a life forever with God, and that remains my hope too. David L. Fleming SJ 341 The Review for Religious Advisory Board and Editorial Staff wish all of our readers a most blessed Advent and Christmas season. 68.4 2009 RANDALL S. ROSENBERG Christian Existence and Theology's Relevance theology and life 342 "Ihe Swiss thinker Hans Urs yon Balthasar is something of an enigma. He has been called the greatest Catholic theologian of the 20th century. He is the inspiration behind many believers who understand themselves as "orthodox" or "solid" Catholics. His work has been seen as an example of greater integration of spirituality and theology. He is the author to whom Jon Sobrino SJ refers in his reflec-tions on the "faith of Christ," a controver-sial position which has been criticized by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. His ideas about gender complementarity and women's ordination have angered many. Some scholars, with strong Thomist commitments, have vigorously criticized his Christology and ¯ soteriology. Other scholars besides Sobrino are Randall S. Rosenberg is assistant professor of religion and philosophy at Fontbonne University (a school spon-sored by the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet); 6800. Wydown Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63105. Review for Religious beginning to make use of his thought to meet the con-cerns of liberation and political theology. My plan here is not to analyze all these currents. Rather, I intend to look at Balthasar's distinctive ideas about the aesthetic-dramatic constitution of Christian reality. He sees God's revelation, God's self-disclosure, as occurring first in aesthetic and dramatic forms, and he sees Christians as called to be co-actors in this "theo-drama" through liturgical ritual and a distinctive way of living. A Generational Concern Some of my attraction to Balthasar is probably gen-erational. I was born ten years after the Second Vatican Council. Although my childhood was shaped by a won-derful Catholic parish and school, my contemporaries and I still experienced what William Portier has called "the dissolution of the American Catholic subcul-ture." Not that I particularly desire a restoration of the good old days; for many, those days were apparently not so good. But it seemed to me, as I began to read Balthasar, that he was not only restoring something of the Christian vision's rich particularity and oddness, but also pointing out to people how beautifully and dra-matically that vision has enhanced all kinds of human lives, the great variety of saints most eminently. As he writes in Love Alone Is Credible, "Lovers are the ones who know most about God; the theologian must listen to them" (p. 12). It was exciting to discover a thinker who brought into his theology the witness of holy people and great texts not normally found in systematic theologians' reflection: Th~r~se of Lisieux, John.of the Cross, Gerard Manley Hopkins, and Dante, to name just a few. 68.4 2009 Rosenberg * Cbristian Existence and Tbeology's Relevance Balthasar preserved what he called a "kneeling theology," without downplaying the use of reason in Christian life. And yet this same thinker also engaged seriously the thought of Hegel, Nietzsche, and Heidegger. In other words--Rodney Howsare has shown this in his book Baltbasar and Protestantism: The Ecumenical Implications of His Theological Style--Balthasar's theological vision had room both for God's revelation in Christ and for the works of reli-gious- philosophical scholars as legitimate moments in under-standing and present-ing Christian truth. Balthasar preserved what he called a "kneeling theology," without downplaying the use of reason in Christian life. His enviable dis-play of both loving devotion and a critical engagement with modernity prompts me to see him as embodying in important ways the dual task of ressourcement and aggior-namento set by Vatican II. Christian Existence as Theo-Drama The aesthetic-dramatic nature of Christian life is shown in the Scriptures. Moses and Paul experienced, aesthetically, the beauty or glory of God in the burn-ing bush and on the road to Damascus. These aesthetic encounters were also dramatic, and they led to the rest of their lives' being high drama as well. It is a com-mon feature of the Jewish and Christian Scriptures that experiences of God are not just holy feelings; they have a vocational, missionary purpose. The first part of Balthasar's multivolume trilogy, The Glory of the Lord, describes the way we first encounter the phenomenon Review for Religious of divine revelation as beautiful. The second part of the trilogy, Theo-Drama, recognizes that God's revelation is not something we merely look at; rather, we are drawn into the drama of revelation and are called to respond. Robert Barron nicely captures Balthasar's aesthetic-dra-matic emphasis: Christianity--like painting, baseball, and philoso-phy- is a world, a form of life. And, like those other worlds, it is first approached because it is perceived as beautiful. A youngster walks onto a baseball dia-mond because he finds the game splendid, and a young artist begins to draw because she finds the artistic universe enchanting. Once the beauty of Christianity has seized a devotee, she will long to submit herself to it, entering into its rhythms, its institutions, its history, its drama, its visions and activities. And then, having practiced it, having worked it into her soul and flesh, she will know it. The movement, in short, is from the beautiful (it is splendid!) to the good (I must play it!) to the true (it is right). In my own encounter with Balthasar, I have most appreciated his dramatic emphasis. In the first volume of his breathtaking five-volume Theo-Drama, Balthasar gives attention to the drama of human existence by using writers like Shakespeare, George Bernanos, Bertolt Brecht, Eugene Ionesco, and even the American Arthur Miller in a kind of prolegomenon to his understanding of Christian existence as "theodramatic." His range of reference to Christian, non-Christian, and even anti- Christian dramatists is astonishing. He uses the theater to illuminate the risk and gravity of human life, the catastrophes and tensions that constitute our existence, and the finite time span within which we must struggle for the good, under judgment and in the face of death. The theater can offer an opening to people's encoun- 68.4 2009 Rosenberg * Christian Existence and Theology'$ Relevance 346 ter with revelation. Balthasar's theodramatic approach employs the metaphor of the world stage. As actors in history, human beings share in the Son's mission, under the Holy Spirit's direction. Just as an actor's role in a theatrical drama constitutes a limited part of the play for a particular purpose, the finite lives of persons who share in the mission of Christ, no matter their life span, dis-close meaning that is relevant for the whole of history. On a personal note, I have appreciated Balthasar's dramatic treatment of the tragic in human existence. I have made my own the following remark of Rowan Williams: "What I found in Balthasar's work was an extraordinary depth of contemplative understand-ing, along with vivid awareness of the tragic quality of human existence--the hellishness of humanity and God's involvement in it--which resonated very deeply with me." Ever since I was a child, I have been par-ticularly sensitive to this tragic dimension, a disposition that has been heightened by my wife's daily work with children who suffer from cancer. The problem of evil as it manifests itself in sickness, natural disasters, random acts of violence, war, oppression, and genocide is never far from my mind. The late British theologian Donald MacKinnon, noting that Balthasar rarely treats the horror of the Holocaust directly, adds that "the nervous ten~ion of the whole argument witnesses to the author's passion-ate concern to present the engagement of God with his world in a way that refuses to turn aside from the over-whelming, pervasive reality of evil." Balthasar does not paper over the pathos of the real world, a pathos full of darkness and ambiguity. For him, God, in the incarna-tion and passion of Jesus, "steps to his opponent's side and, from within, helps him reach justice and freedom. Review for Religious Hnitude, time, and death are not negated: they are given a new value in a way that is beyond our comprehension. Indeed, even what is hostile to God, in all its profound abysses, is not abandoned; God does not turn his back on it: it is taken over and reworked." Balthasar never taught academic theology at a uni-versity. He spent many years, however, as a university chaplain. In the Switzerland of the 1940s this kind of work was largely cultural. Balthasar the chaplain spent his time giving lectures, in the evening debating in various student societies, and giving retreats. To borrow John W. O'Malley SJ's useful catego-ries from his Four Cultures of the West, Balthasar's thought more resembles cultures three and four--"Poetry, Rhetoric, and the Common Good" and "Art and Performance"-- than it does culture two--"The Academy and the Professions." O'Malley's remarks on Erasmus could be said about Balthasar: "He felt he could criticize Scholastic theology because he had an alternative to offer: a return to the more literary and rhetorical style of the Fathers. That was the 'ancient and genuine' the-ology, quite different from the 'modern' theology. It was genuine because it was drawn directly from the sacred texts and because it had led to a 'theological life.' It touched the heart and centered on the few truths that were essential to Christianity rather than on the second-ary issues the Scholastics pursued" (p. 160). Balthasar once remarked that his study with the Jesuits, largely in Neo-Scholastic mode, was a "grim struggle with what men had made out of the glory of revelation." He Balthasar never taught academic theology ,at a university. 68.4 2009 Rosenberg * Christian Existence and Tbeology's Relevance 348 ~ "could not endure this presentation of the Word of God and wanted to lash out with the fury of Samson," tear "down the whole temple," and bury himself "beneath the rubble." It is often true that Balthasar's mode of presentation resembles a patristic sermon more than a scholastic treatise. In my recent experiences of presenting papers, giv-ing academic lectures, and doing job interviews, it has become evident that this aesthetic-dramatic emphasis genuinely excites scholars and ordinary laypeople. This emphasis could also be said to be Balthasar's greatest shortcoming as a "systematic" theologian. He is called "unsystematic" by those who argue for the indispens-ability of a more scientifically or theoretically con-structed theology in the manner of Thomas Aquinas. Let me address both sentiments. On the one hand, I am convinced that Balthasar's aesthetic-dramatic emphasis nurtures an appreciation for the inexhaustible mystery that resides at the heart of Christian revelation. He offers a richly symbolic and imaginative approach--one that fosters better Christian living, namely, the dramatic artistry needed for fulfill-ing our own unique missions. That is, his theology can give momentum to the religious feelings and beliefs that help us accomplish good in the particular circumstances of our lives. On the other hand, the aesthetic-dramatic emphasis is not always helpful when one does "system-atic theology" in order to answer the further questions that arise out of one's aesthetic-dramatic, liturgical, or devotional life. Balthasar's theology, besides being eclectic, has a contemplative emphasis that prefers to let "paradox" be the answer, rather than carefully working out a set of terms and relations and bringing a theo-logical intelligibility to the concrete conditions in which Review for Religious Christians live their lives. One is more likely to find this kind of intelligibility in Bernard Lonergan or Karl Rahner. Let me offer an example. It was my encounter with the writings of Balthasar that helped me discover the "weightiness" of the mystery of the cross. Balthasar is not content with presenting the cross as merely a consequence of Jesus' prophetic stance in the world. It is that, but it is also much more. It contains a vicarious element, which somehow involves Jesus' "taking on" the sin of the human race. Balthasar desires to do justice to a dominant theme in the Fathers, namely, the admirabile commercium, God's "wondrous exchange," with sinners. With aesthetic and dramatic power, Balthasar communi-cated to me the cross's power and centrality. And yet as questions arose--How did Jesus "take on" sin? Did he also take on our guilt? If so, did he also experience a loss of hope and the kind of darkness sinners experience?-- I became less satisfied with his systematic answers (or lack thereof). In my own research I have been more satisfied with a Thomist pattern of explanation (also not without its critics), given contemporary expression in Bernard Lonergan's writings on "Satisfaction" and the "Law of the Cross." Such writings offer terms and relations that can be used in engaging the modern sciences construc-tively. Balthasar has often prompted in me an excite-ment and concern about such theological questions Balthasar's theology, has a contemplative emphasis that prefers to let ',paradox" be the answer. 349 68.4 2009 Rosenberg * Christian Existence and Tbeology's Relevance and then failed to give me adequate answers. In his De Verbo Incarnato, Lonergan writes that, if one approaches Christ's passion and death with primarily a "symbolic mentality," where image and feeling predominate, then one is likely to express the meaning of the cross in terms of "substitution" or "satispassion," that is, in terms of Jesus' "suffering enough" for sins. These words do not do justice to the sophistication of Balthasar's approach, but they indicate something about his theological style in general and his theology of Christ's passion and death in particular. In my estimation, because of its dramatic terminology and its reliance on the mystical experiences of Adrienne von Speyr, Balthasar's theology of Christ's passion and death is often unclear and even reckless. I wonder, though, whether this theological question, sparked by the power of Balthasar's presentation, would have occurred to me at all without his help. Balthasar himself was not concerned with meeting the requirements of a technical, theoretical, systematic theologian. He once said in an interview, "My books are not the kind of theology that belongs to the aca-demic guild and therefore they are not particularly suited for dissertations." He remarked, "I have to say that for me the only truly interesting theologians are the saints: from. Irenaeus through Augustine to Anselm, to Bonaventure, or figures that allow the radiation of holiness to show forth, such as Dante or Newman; one could also mention Kierkegaard and Solovyov." A Call for Fruitful Integration My concern goes beyond the question of Balthasar's adequacy as a systematic theologian. I have accentuated his aesthetic-dramatic approach here, but I know there are many other approaches as well. My concern is the Review for Religious shape of Catholic theology in the 21st century and the place of the aesthetic-dramatic style therein. Vv'hat does theology conceived in Anselmian fashion as "faith seek-ing understanding" mean in light of the many theologi-cal styles we have inherited from the 20th century, from what Fergus Kerr has called "the Heroic Generation"? In my discussion of the cross, I have offered a "the-oretical" or "explanatory" challenge to Balthasar's theological style. Let me now say that Balthasar, too, offers a challenge. He makes us ask: Must not theol-ogy go well :beyond understanding to an understand-ing that is aesthetically and dramatically in touch with the joys and challenges of ordinary Christian existence? Shouldn't theology be more attentive to the Mystery that is encountered in aesthetic and dramatic form in our workaday world's prayer and worship? A question remains regarding what to do with the diversity of theological styles we have inherited. R.R. Reno has suggested that "we need a period of consolidation that allows us to integrate the lasting achievements of the Heroic Generation into a renewed standard theology." Let me suggest, without adequate exposition, one possible way forward, a way which has been similarly outlined by Robert Doran SJ. The chal-lenge of this generation is to integrate three 20th-cen-tury theological movements--contemporary Thomism, the ressourcement project of la nouvelle thdologie, and the various expressions of political-liberation theol-ogy. These three movements could be of help (1) in explaining theological doctrines in a theoretical man-ner that is capable of engaging with the natural and social sciences in search of a unity of knowledge; (2) in experiencing and mediating Catholic thought and culture through aesthetic-dramatic forms; and (3) in 68.4 2009 Rosenberg * Christian Existence and Tbeology's Relevance dealing with concrete human suffering of all kinds in light of the gospel mandate to transform a world in need. Such a grand vision would require sympathetic and critical conversations, the highlighting of comple-mentarities and dialectical differences, and the humil-ity to be open to revision. If such an integration were to occur, it would require doing justice in an orderly way to the richness of being human in the flow of his-tory, that is, being psychological, intellectuall rational, moral, loving, mystical, and worshipful. For this enter-prise Balthasar would certainly not have all the answers, but he would have much to contribute to it. By Beauty Tethered God of the dawn and high noon and of twilight and midnight; God of the tides and the myriad droplets of dew; God of gardenias and larkspur and tulips; by beauty, God,~ tether my being to you. Mary Anne Huddleston IHM Review for Religious A. PAUL DOMINIC How You Eat Matters I fEatthien gti,t lAe sJeoeymous sa Sbaict rpiufizczel.i"n gIn, It hper ompoatstee ra noof tehaetr-: ing, as in every other human exercise or experience, there is surely more to it than meets the eye, or indeed the tongue or any other sense organ. Perception of such impalpable reality may take no time or consume no little time. Communicating that reality, however, normally requires time, and maybe a detour. Anyway, in the present case, the process has been for me an experience of obscurum per obscurius, though at the end it was all darum (clear), bathed in light. "Hindu Prayer: A First for Congress"--that was the title of the news item from India Abroad News Service on 14 September 2000. The news was the historic event of a Hindu priest delivering the opening prayer in the United States House of Representatives.1 The prayer ran as follows: "O God, you are omnipresent, omnipo-tent, and omniscient. You are everything, and nothing A. Paul Dominic SJ wrote for us about dreams in 2008. His address is Aishalton c/o St Ignatius Mission; Lethem P.O.; Rupununi, Guyana (South America). Emaih pauldominicsj@yahoo.com 68.4 2009 Dominic ¯ How You Eat Matters is beyond you. You are our mother and father, and we are all your children." It continued: "Whatever you do is for our good. You are the ocean of mercy, and you forgive our errors. You are our teacher, and you guide us on to righteousness . Today, in this great hall, are assembled the elected representatives of the people of this nation. They are ready to perform their duties. God, please guide them in their thoughts and actions so they can achieve'the greatest good for all." The prayer ended with an invocation from the ancient scriptures of India. "May all be happy, may all be free from disease, may all realize what is good, may none be subject to misery; peace, peace, peace be unto all." The fact of the Hindu prayer in the U.S. Congress was objectionable and even threatening to some. Many others strongly counterprotested. Anyway, the words of the prayer cannot be construed really offensive to any-one, except of course an atheist. As a matter of fact, they breathe the deepest longings of harried humanity hop-ing in the Divinity. The way they are addressed to God smacks of no narrow Hinduism nor any sectarianism for that matter, but an inclusive theism. The God invoked is everybody's God.2 If the Hindu priest had his own traditional or peculiar thoughts about God, in no way does that show itself in his prayer. Even the concluding prayer, taken from the Hindu scriptures, sounds indeed more universal than particularly Hindu. It seems to show that genuine prayer cuts across ,barriers of religion. Everything connected with prayer in Hinduism can-not, of course, be explained thus. There are aspects of Hindu worship that are confined and meaningful only to adherents of Hinduism with its practices and tenets. Even here, however, it is wise to distinguish between what is exclusively Hindu and what is purely religious-- Review for Religious even though in practice the two are generally too inter-twined to detect. We should, however, exercise ourselves in this regard, for we can be surprisingly enriched as Christians and, what is more, find ourselves agree-ably bonded with other sincere believers. For example, though the ritual of sacrifice in various religions is dif-ferent in all of them and likely to distract and distance other people, the faith element in those sacrifices can be heartwarming and edifying to all those who can intuit it. Some reading I did about Hindu sacrifice proved to be quite inspiring. From it I got a sense of the homely and heavenly meaning of sacrifice beyond the altar's formal vesture, furnishings, and ceremony. I have grown to believe that eating at table has the character and odor of a true sacrifice. I was confirmed in my belief when I found a simi-lar thought in a poet with a Christian background. He shares his vision charmingly and persuasively: Since you must kill to eat, and rob the newly born of its mother's milk to quench your thirst, let it then be an act of worship, And let your board stand an altar on which the pure and the innocent of forest and plain are sacri-ficed for that which is purer and still more innocent in man.3 I have no inkling of how the poet arrived at his vision of profound truth. I can recount, however, my experience in this regard, recalling first the Hindu insight. i have grown to believe that eating at table has the character and odor of a true sacrifice. 68.4 2009 Dominic * How You Eat Matters A Hindu Adumbration The universe in the ancient Hindu vision originat-ing from the Vedic4 times of 2000 BC consisted of three worlds: the physical, the psychological, and the spiritual manitCesting themselves not as separate but congruent spheres. Fire (Affni in Sanskrit) at the physical level was obviously visible flames, like those burning a sacrificial offering to the deity. At the psychological level it was the mind exercising itself in thinking and knowing. At the spiritual level the same word was a name of God. Given the superiority of the spiritual over the physical and the psychological, the latter two were regarded and grasped as manifestations of the one supreme Spirit called Agrni, extending through the three-tiered universe. "The fire which is the sun, the fire which is the earth, that fire is in my own heart," as a Vedic verse put it pithily. One cannot miss the images of the three worlds: the sun standing for the spiritual, the earth for the material, and the human for the psychological.5 Anyone who is not at ease with this ancient under-standing needs only a moment's thought to see its con-nection with reality. For this a comparison with another religious tradition may help. In the Judaic tradition, physical fire serves the cultic needs of purification and liturgical rituals of offering. Fire that necessarily burns can signi~ blazing anger and, more importantly, the tribulation that cleanses the heart and proves the soul righteous. Fire is predicated of God's own self in theophanies of saving presence, transcendence, and benevolence. God appears as the burning bush and the pillar of fire and indeed as consuming fire (Dt 4:24, 9:3; Is 33:14). God purifies his servants and sets them afire with zeal so that the whole universe may shine in glory. Christian tradition has inherited this entire view Review for Religious and given it its own emphasis. Recall Jesus saying: "I have come to bring fire on the earth and desire that it be kindled" (Lk 12:49).6 Observing parallels in the Vedic and Biblical views of the world, one may see other ones as well. In the Vedic thought, sacrifice involves a conscious perception that the three worlds are bound together as one universe. Sacrifice involves lighting a fire and burning an obla-tion on the altar. The idea behind the ritual is that the spiritual fire that is in heaven is also buried in the earth, and so it bursts forth when stones or sticks are struck. By being burned, the gifts laid on the altar are carried to heaven. The fiery sacrifice returns all that is on the earth to its original source in heaven. The ideal of sacrifice behind this graphic picture is not absent in the Bible. Elijah's successful sacrifice when the prophets of Baal miserably failed (1 K 18:22.-38) comes to mind here. To continue still further with the inner significance of the Vedic sacrifice, as long as sacrifice is performed everything keeps returning to its origin, and human beings find themselves living in harmony with the uni-verse. When people fail in their duty of sacrifice, they interfere with the cyclic rhythm that sustains the world of which they are a part. They use the mountain of gifts without attending to their nature, thereby isolating both themselves and all things from their origin. They violate the law of the universe. But, when sacrifice is duly and gratefully done, it redounds to universal prosperity. This seems reflected in Psalm 50: "Offer to God a sacrifice of thanksgiving and pay your vows to the Most High." The last element of all sacrifice is perhaps too obvi-ous to be striking: it is eating the sacrificial offerings. What is offered in sacrifice is normally things that peo-ple eat, and so a sacrifice ends as a sacrificial meal. But 68.4 2009 Dominic ¯ How You Eat Matters In the matter of sacrifice, the universal beliefwas that, when humans ate something of the sacrifice, the deity had partaken of it first. who eats in sacrifice? Those who sacrifice, of course. But, as the sacrifice is not offered to themselves, they do not eat alone. When the sacrifice is consumed by fire, it is believed that the deity above consumes it. This understanding is highlighted in the Hindu scriptural verse: "I, the Lord, become the fire of life, and seated in the body I consume the four kinds of food." This passage is certainly obscure for many, though it is for Hindus a familiar verse (vakya in Sanskrit) of the Bhagavad Gita, perhaps the most personal of all their scriptures. Anyway, what it says links human eating with divine eat-ing. In the matter of sacrifice, the universal belief was that, when humans ate something of the sacrifice, the deity had partaken of it first. Similarly, one may well conclude that what humans eat in ordinary meals is at the same rime consumed by "the fire of life," which is none other than God dwelling in human bodies. And so a human meal itself becomes a sacrifice to God. Bede Griffiths, the English Benedictine who, along with other foreign pioneers in India, continued the Indian tradition of ashram (akin to monasticism in the Western tradition), explains the point thus: "That fire, which is in the heaven above and in the earth beneath, is in our own bodies; we offer our food in sacrifice in that inner fire and it is consumed in the fire and surrendered to God again. So a meal is a sacrifice." Here is a subtle move from a sacrificial meal eaten on occasion to daily Review for Religious meals eaten in the joyous, harmonious spirit of sacri-fice. Drawing from another stanza in the Bhagavad Gita, Griffiths concludes that "anyone taking a meal without sacrificing is a thief; this is to take the gifts of God and appropriate them to oneself instead of receiving them as gifts and returning thanks.''7 A Christian Follow-Up Such a thought can startle nominal or profane Christians who have no thought of God whatever when they satisfy their hunger and thirst or overly indulge their tastes. Normal devout Christians accustomed to their routine mealtime prayer may well find more mean-ing in their daily practice. The grace before and after meals will then become the grace of meals as sacrifice. The whole meal from start to finish becomes an exercise and experience of grace, with the grace understood in terms of sacrifice. If sacrifice involves material fire for burning the oblation, daily meals as sacrifice ought to burn with the psychospiritual fire of desire--desire not merely for food, but for the One who gives the food. The Giver of food gives not only the natural and won-derful food and drink, but also the hunger, thirst, and taste buds necessary to enjoy it. Further, through our gratefulness God raises our minds beyond the mean philosophy of eat, drink, and be merry before it is too late. Enkindled by this grate-fulness, we cannot but experience a burning hunger for God. This does not produce asceticism in us so much as refine our taste for the simple, healthy, necessary food that makes for joyous living. At the same time it enables us to find God in food itself.8 This way of eating, that is much more than munching and gulping, becomes a sacrifice by virtue of the prayer surrounding our meals. 68.4 2009 Dominic ¯ How You Eat Matters As St. Paul says, food is for the stomach and the stom-ach for food, and ultimately the body is for the Lord (1 Co 6:13). Sacrificial prayer, then, from hearts burn-ing with fervor for God, rises like incense and raises people's spirits while leaving them contented with their daily bread. It is the very opposite of making a god of one's belly (Ph 3:19)9 and sacrificing to it. This talk is not farfetched or feverishly imagined. It breathes the spirit of Jesus who, being more a mystic than an ascetic, ate with much gratitude to his Abba God and with the childlike merriment of having been blessed. When necessary he gave hungry people food, but he also chided them for not understanding their hunger aright. One may learn a lot from his controversy with them as they were looking for him the day after he had miraculously fed them with bread and fish to their hearts' content (Jn 6). He unveiled to them their own undignified thoughts regarding food and satisfaction. He warned them not to work for food that cannot give life, but for the food from God that gives eternal life. "God's bread comes down from heaven and gives life to the world." Jesus told them that people do not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from God's mouth (Mr 4:4). Jesus' conduct in eating teaches about meal as sac-rifice. He takes the bread, looks up to heaven where his Abba Father dwells, gives thanks to him, and shares the bread with those around him generously, then pre-sumably eats along with them till finally making sure that nothing that remains goes to waste (Mt 14:19-20). While this pictures partly the proper Jewish uttering of a blessing such as "Praised be thou, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who bringest forth bread from earth," Jesus portrays more faithfully and characteristi- Review for Religious cally what his Abba intended when he led his people, feeding them with manna and so training them for life. His counsel to his eager listeners on the Mount is not to worry about food and drink. His words are meant to uplift them with the realization of their blessings on any given day, making of it a sacrifice of praise and grati-tude. The same spirit suffuses the prayer Jesus taught people to pray: "Father, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come. Give us each day our daily bread" (Lk 11:2-3). Because our daily meals are ideally sacrifices filling us with gratitude and.uniting us with the bountiful Abba Father, Jesus began his unique sacrifice at an ordinary, if festive, meal, his last meal before he died. And there he bequeathed his new sacrifice in the form of a unique meal. It is with the same inspiration that he spoke of the heavenly life with God as a banquet of communion with God and all God's beloved (Mt 8:11, 22:2). What happens when, thinking of a penitential aspect of sacrifice, we lose sight of the sublime aspect of eat-ing and drinking? One answer is that then we cannot fully engage in the divine mystery of our Christian sac-rifice. We would even act contrary to the spirit of the sacrifice when we are not celebrating the Liturgy for-mally. The Corinthians did this, as Paul reminded them. When they came together for the Lord's Supper, they did not wait for the Lord. Paul says: "When you meet together, it is not the Lord's Supper that you eat. For in eating, each one goes ahead with his own meal, and one is hungry and another is drunk" (1 Co 11:20-21). To spell out an implication in Paul's words, ordinary human meals should be much like the Lord's Supper. There is or should be etiquette and the spirit of sacrifice in every ordinary meal. 361 68.4 2009 Dominic * How You Eat Matters 362 The Hindu version of what happens when we do not honor the sacrificial aspect of human eating is best illustrated by a Hindu story. A man sought to know from a Hindu priest the greatest being in the universe worthy of a sacrifice. Following the clear instruction, he began offering food to the newly acquired idol in his house. One day he found a rat eating the offering. Inferring that the rat must be greater than the idol, he began making his sacrificial offering to the rat, till one day he saw a cat threatening the rat. So he began mak-ing his sacrifice to the cat. One day the man's wife saw the cat on an eating spree in the kitchen and chased it away with a stick2 Made aware of this greater power of his wife, he began making his sacrifice to her. Then one day, finding the meal she cooked and served too salty, he shouted at her. She quivered at his anger. That encounter made him feel superior to his wife, and so he began to offer food sacrificially to himself. He ate and ate until he died. Can anyone be so foolish? Not in such an obvious way, but most of us are probably about half that foolish. The really wise, of course, would know how to enjoy food and drink while recognizing that they are also part of the grateful sacrifice due to God. There is something beautiful and divine in such sacrifice pervading daily life without formal rubrics and yet illumining the rubrics of the altar. "So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do everything for the glory of God" (1 Co 10:31). Notes ~ There was a similar first occurrence of prayer, this one in Sanskrit, spoken by a Hindu in the Nevada State Assembly on 19 March 2007 and in the Nevada State Senate on 7 May 2007, both in Carson City. See Kaumudi USA-News, March 2007 (front page). 2 Some Muslims, however, would not agree on this. Review for Religious 3 Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet (New Delhi: Allied Publishers, 1976), p. 30. 4 The word derives from the Vedas, the earliest Hindu scriptures in Sanskrit. s See Bede Griffiths, A New Vision of Reality (New Delhi: Indus, 1992), pp. 58-59. 6 See John L. McKenzie, Dictionary of the Bible (Bangalore: Asian Trading Corporation, 1998), pp. 277-278. 7 Griffiths, New Vision, p. 61. The verse itself runs thus: "Nourished by your sacrifice, the Gods will grant you your heart's desires. / What a thief is he who enjoys their gifts but gives nothing in return!" (3:12). See Raimundo Panikkar et al., The Vedic Experience (London: Darton, Longman, and Todd, 1977), p. 428. s As Jesus overturned the notion of unclean food in Jewish Pharisaism and declared all food clean (Mk 7:19), he would also declare all food good against what may be called Christian libertinism. 9 Of course, in the Pauline context the reference was to Jewish dietary laws that in Christianity were being superseded, whereas here it is the regrettable exaltation of food for food's sake. Questions for Personal and Group Reflection 1. How do you consider grace before and after meals meaningful to your Christian living? 2. Can you explain that the Last Supper exemplifies for us how our daily meals are "ideally sacrifices filling us with gratitude and uniting us with the bountiful Abba Father"? 363 68.4 2009 PATRICIA A. WITTBERG religious life models Opening a New Window: Fifteen Years after the FORUS Study More than fifteen years ago, Miriam Ukeritis csJ and David Nygren CM published their groundbreaking study, The Future of Religious Orders in the United States) In it they predicted that religious congregations had only a ten-year window of opportunity before the aging of their current members and the lack of new entrants would render them nonviable. Many resisted this prediction, refusing to believe it. Some spun visions of an alternate (and socio-logically naive) future in which religious con-gregations would expand to include married and single, vowed and nonvowed, Catholic and non-Catholic, male and female, all somehow gathered together under the aegis of a vaguely defined charism? Others, not knowing what to believe, considered religious life's future Patricia A. Wittberg SC wrote about the "recipro-cal identities" of apostolic life and consecrated life in our July-August 2002 issue. Her address remains 2141 Dugan Drive; Indianapolis, Indiana 46260. Email: pwittber@iupui.edu Review for Religious something they could do litde about and focused their diminishing energies on their ministries instead. Fifteen years later, for many religious congregations, the window of opportunity appears to have closed. Few if any of their members are under the age of sixty; no one has entered for ten or even twenty years; vocation directors are burned out or depressed. Many members coverdy believe--and some openly argue--that it is use-less and unethical to invite young people to enter. It is for these congregations, especially, that I am writing this article, but I offer it as well to communities which are in less dire straits. I. believe that both could profit from the following alternative. I would like to point out a different--and more sociologically feasible--path for the future of declining religious congregations. I do not see this as replacing traditional religious life--which is thriving on a smaller scale in some (but not all) of the CMSWR congregations in the United States, and on a larger scale in Africa and South Asia. There will always be a place in the church for the traditional model of religious life. But U.S. Catholic culture is no longer as hospitable to this model as it once was. If it were, several hundred, not a few dozen, traditional religious congregations would be springing up in this country, and they would be doubling in membership every decade. Such explosive growth was the norm for religious congregations founded in the 19th century, and it obviously is not happening today. This comparative lack of interest, however, does not indicate that present-day U.S. Catholics are unspiritual heathens. They simply are not attracted to the traditional model. I believe that American Catholicism would be bet-ter served if several other versions of religious life were also available to young Catholics. By"other versions" I 68.4 2009 tVittberg ¯ Opening a New Window A social movement is a wave of beliefs and/or actions that sweeps large numbers of persons into working toward a specific goal. 366 do not mean the lifestyles currendy being modeled by most of the non-CMSWR religious congregations. These are faring even worse than the traditionalist orders in attracting new members. Their charisms are still beau-tiful and, for the most part, still valid in today's world. But they are not being presented in a form that appeals to young Catholics today. Instead, I want to suggest a different strategy for handing on a congregation's charism to a new generation: starting one---or preferably severalmsocial-movement orga-nizations. To explain how this would work, I first need to define a few terms. Broadly considered, a social movement is a wave of beliefs and/or actions that sweeps large numbers of persons into working toward a specific goal. Examples are the civil-rights movement, the women's movement, the envi-ronmental movement, and the right-to-life movement. Each of these movements may con-tain dozens of separate social-movement organizations (SMOs) which focus on particular activities, particular groups of people, or particular issues related to the larger movement's goals. Thus, the environmental movement includes large organiza-tions like the Sierra Club, the Nature Conservancy, and Greenpeace and also many smaller groups that focus on saving the monarch butterfly, cleaning up a local river, opposing the dumping of toxic waste, and so forth.3 There have been religious social movements and, thus, religious social-movement organizations as well. In Review for Religious Protestantism, a succession of social movements called "Great Awakenings" sparked a host of religious revival groups throughout the 18th and 19th centuries, several of which developed into full-fledged denominations such as the Mormons, the Seventh-Day Adventists, and the various Pentecostal churches. In Catholicism, waves of devotionalism swept through both 17th-century France and 19th-century North America,4 spinning off pilgrim-age societies, sodalities, and prayer groups devoted to particular saints, scapulars, or novenas. These were not .religious orders at their inception, but some later did develop in that direction. Other times they simply strengthened the existing orders. I am suggesting that religious congregations con-sciously try to foster something similar today. Most still have one or more members who are passionate about meeting some particular need in today's world, be it sav-ing the environment, feeding the poor, sheltering home-less women and children, providing free medical care to the uninsured, or mentoring the spiritually searching,s Many of these members have already worked out a more or less specific theology to ground their activities and to explain how their passion fits with the congregation's charism. Some have recruited a corps of volunteers to help them in. their work. To paraphrase the famous line from MoliEre,6 they are already "forming a religious SMO without knowing it." However, these passionate members are often less connected to the rest of the con-gregation. For years, even decades, the other members may have left them alone to "do their own thing." But it is only a small step from what these indi-vidual religious are already instinctively doing, for their congregation deliberately to form and maintain several SMOs to enflesh its charism for subsequent genera- 68.4 2009 Wittberg ¯ Opening a New Window 368 tions. All that remains is to help each incipient group to articulate its identity publicly, to specify clearly its religious grounding in the congregation's charism, and to take specific steps to ensure its leadership continuity and stable membership. This might simply involve: ¯ Picking a name connected with both the charism of the congregation and the specific focus of the group: "Vincentian Servants of the Homeless," "Franciscan Brothers and Sisters of the Earth," "Centering Pray-ers," and so forth. ¯ Adopting an identifiable sign of group affiliation, for example, a common T-shirt or a medal. ¯ Maintaining a public-relations effort to inform potential volunteers, donors, other members of the con-gregation, and the church at large about the group's existence and to attract them to its mission. ¯ Spelling out the criteria for entering and exiting the group, expectations of membership, and ongoing group governance. Previous evidence indicates that, paradoxically, groups with more rigorous expectations are more likely to succeed than those which demand less of their adherents.7 The first two steps are relatively simple, and may already have been taken. But they are not enough. Unless some provision is made for the continuance of the SMO, it may not survive its founder's retirement. The founding brother or sister may be neither inter-ested in nor skilled at such bureaucratic maintenance activities. For the remaining steps, therefore, a religious congregation may be able to offer valuable help from its communications office (for the third task), and its leadership (for the fourth). The kind of social-movement organization I am advocating may or may not be represented by a con- Review for Religious gregation's associate program. A congregation's associ-ates could certainly be this kind of group--but only if they are organized around a readily articulated spiri-tual focus and/or apostolic activity that distinguishes associate membership from the larger call given to any Catholic. Simply stating that associates are devoted to "living the charism of the founder" is not enough. The more focused the associates' commitment--whether in monthly or weekly prayer/lectio according to the founder's spirituality, or in working on a regular basis with the vowed members in their ministry, or in staffing some auxiliary ministry that complements that of the vowed members--the more my SMO proposal here can be applied to them. Otherwise, an associateprogram will not be sufficiendy distinct from the lifestyle of non-associates to enflesh the order's charism on its own. Advantages of the SMO Model I am suggesting that some congregations--especially those whose members have tacitly abandoned the hope of attracting new vowed members--make a point of acknowledging this and then start to recruit people for their present members' particular SMOs. What would be the advantages of such a strategy? First of all, any given religious congregation will survive only to the extent that its members are passionately devoted to some particular version of their founding charism. The future of religious life does not rest with the tired or apathetic, but after a long period of decline many religious now are both. Most congregations have only a few members with the needed passion and enthusiasm. Moreover, these members may not all be focused on the same passion. Some may live and breathe God's call to serve the poor; others may devote their energies to preserving God's 68.4 2009 Wittberg ¯ Opening a New Window Any given religious congregation will survive only to the extent that its members are passionately ~devoted to some particular version of their founding charism. 370 creation through environmental activities; still others, with a more contemplative bent, may foster spirituality through centering prayer, pastoral counseling, or reli-gious art or music. A religious order faced with only a handful of healthy and passionate vowed members, each deeply devoted to a different passion, faces a serious dilemma. It can either focus on one of these passions to the exclu-sion of the others (which would be profoundly alien-ating to those left out), or it can try to include all of them (which dilutes the con-gregation's spe-cific identity and its ability to rally its members around a common goal). Either way, a congregation's ability to recruit to vowed membership is weakened if its remaining passion-ate members are devoted to different articulations of its charism, because its overall corporate mission identity will be weak.8 In contrast, enfleshing these articulations in several different SMOs would strengthen a congregation and improve the chances for its charism to survive. Since each SMO's participants are not necessarily vowed to the congregation, it is not only possible but desirable that several could exist under the same congregational "rOOfo''9 The more different SMOs a congregation's members "spin off," the greater the chance that one, at Review for Religious least, will catch fire. As I will argue below, this may then become the seed for the congregation's future. A second advantage of the SMO approach is that it is a sociologically feasible way of incorporating temporary members or inviting specific demographic groups into the congregation's family. The prospect of temporary membership in permanently vowed religious congrega-tions has been discussed for over thirty years without ever coming to fruition.'° This is probably a sign that the concept is unworkable. A host of decisions would need to be faced in a congregation that included both permanent and temporary members: financial expec-tations, for example, or voice and vote in chapters. Maintaining a distinction between the two groups could imply a second-class status for the temporary members; erasing the distinction would depreciate the perpetually vowed members' commitment. Also, there is not now and never has been any indi-cation that large numbers of potential entrants are clamoring for the option of temporary membership in communities with perpetual vows. If anything, the opposite is the case. In contrast, however, various lay movements that are similar to SMOs are thriving in the church--which may be a sign that the model is a more compatible and sociologically viable Way of enfleshing a religious call in today's world.'1 Lay social-movement organizations are compat-ible with temporary commitment. In fact, many actu-ally expect that their members will stay no more than three or four years. Prayer or volunteer groups specifi-cally targeting high school or college students would be examples of these. A recently begun group is the St. Joseph of Arimathea Society--groups of high school students in Cleveland and Louisville who help provide 371 68.4 2009 Wittberg ¯ Opening a New Window A final advantage of religious ¯ social-movement organizations is that it is less devastating for the members if they dissolve. dignified and reverent funeral services for homeless peo-ple, and for murder victims and deceased old and young people whose relatives are too few or too devastated to arrange a funeral themselves. The students provide sing-ers and pallbearers, tend the "potter's field" cemetery, and collect money for flowers and grave markers. More traditional examples of student organiza-tions include prayer groups (Athletes for Christ, rosary or adoration societies) or twinning arrange-ments with a school in a poor area. There is no expectation that the students will remain members of these groups after their graduation, although they may be directed to affiliated adult groups which they may or may not choose to join. A final advantage of religious social-movement orga-nizations is that it is less devastating for the members if they dissolve. While no data exist on the number of failed attempts that preceded or accompanied the suc-cessful founding of religious orders in previous centu-ries, anecdotal evidence in our histories indicates that at least as many attempts to found religious orders have failed as succeeded. This appears to be true today as well. Of the 97 new religious communities listed in the 1999 Directory of Embrging Religious Communities, 24 had dissolved by 2006, and another 21 had lost members.~2 Founding or truly refounding a religious order is a chancy business, and those who commit their lives to one of these new groups risk losing both financial security Review for Religious and mental/emotional health if they fail. Committing oneself to an SMO carries with it many fewer risks. Outcomes For those religious who are concerned for the pres-ervation of their congregation's charism, forming one or more SMOs could have several beneficial results: ¯ Social-movement organizations may be effective recruit-ment vehicles for vowed membership. With few religious teaching in Catholic schools, most young Catholics have never seen a sister or brother. And few religious inter-act with anyone younger than fifty on a deep or regu-lar basis. How can young Catholics join a lifestyle they know so little about? How can religious invite those they never see? Participating with vowed religious on an ongoing basis in a soup kitchen, a prayer group, or an ecological project will help young people get to know the religious involved--and vice versa. ¯ One particular social-movement organization may develop into the vehide that will carry a congregation's charism into the next generation, after all of the former vowed mem-bers are gone. If so, this would finally realize the inclusive ¯ scenario that the "Transformative Elements" painted for the future of religious life twenty years ago. How could anyone say that a religious charism was extinct if, instead of a small number of vowed religious, an SMO of married, single, Catholic, and non-Catholic men and women were living it out by feeding the hungry, praying a particular devotion, tutoring poor children, or in some other way were bringing the founder's original vision into the 21st century? "Life is not ended, merely changed." ¯ A truly successful social-movement organization will often, however, contain a number of members who do want to devote their entire lives to its vision. It may 373 68.4 2009 Wittberg ¯ Opening a New Window be that these members will not join the original community, but will instead begin a new one. If the first community is still around at this point, their wisdom and experi-ence would be invaluable for the new group. If not, the stories of the SMO's original founder--the sister who started a free clinic in Appalachia, the brother whose soup kitchen mobilized a city to feed the poor--will serve as a template. After all, Frederick Ozanam (the founder of the St. Vincent de Paul Society) lived sev-eral centuries after Vincent himself. St. John Bosco had never met St. Francis de Sales. Throughout the millennium and a half that Catholic religious life has existed, many new religious orders or lay groups have been formed from old templates. SMOs could provide templates of this very kind. Next Steps I believe that social-movement organizations could be useful, both for religious congregations that have given up on recruiting vowed members, and also for more-viable communities that still attract some young people. For the former, it may be the last remaining way they have of passing on their charism to a new genera-tion. For the latter, it may help them attract even more new entrants. The next steps I would suggest to con-gregations wishing to found such organizations--or to foster the ones their individual members have already begun--are as follows: ¯ Take inventory of today's society: What are its deep-est needs or desires? As I have noted previously,~3 the best way to determine these needs is to look at what larger social movements are currently growing. The most pressing social movements reveal themselves by the large number of SMOs they spawn. Are there already Review for Religious a lot of small environmental groups? Prayer groups? Adoration groups? Groups working with the poor? Women's groups? Check out the directory of associa-tions on the Internet Public Library (http://www.ipl. org/div/aon/)to find out. Is there room for another SMO, locally, in this movement? For example, is there a group that the movement currently does not reach, such as Hispanics or high school youth? Is there a new tactic or way of addressing the issue that existing SMOs do not use? Could adding your congregation's spirituality or charism deepen commitment to the social movement? ¯ Take inventory of your congregation: Who are your passionate members? What are their passions? How, if at all, do these passions relate to the charism of your founder? What larger social movements do these pas-sions relate to? Are your community's passionate mem-bers interested in leading or organizing a group to assist them in their work? Or, better, have they already done so? Are other members in your congregation interested in helping them? ¯ What does the group still need in order to succeed? Does it need to expand its pool of potential volunteers? Secure more stable funding? Plan for the founder's retirement? What is the optimum size for the group? Would expansion be good for it--or dilute its unique character? If the latter, can the group's model be "fran-chised" in some way, with separate independent chap-ters in various cities?14 ¯ What assistance can the congregation render? Can your communications office help to publicize the group? Can your vocation personnel and/or associates help locate new volunteers? Does the group need a place to meet? Need mentoring in finances or grant writing? What about retreats or prayer days on the charism? And 68.4 2009 Wittberg ¯ Opening a New Window 376 who in the congregation could provide these services? A weakness in any new religious organization is its "liabil-ity of newness," which may lead to mistakes that imperil its very survival. A more experienced mentor could be a tremendous help. It is obvious by now that religious life is at the end of one of the cyclic downturns which have recurred over the centuries. Rather than resign ourselves to our "inev-itable" extinction--and thereby create a self-fulfilling prophecy--I think we should notice that the SMO model offers a way to midwife the new forms of religious life that will thrive and grow in the years ahead. The many permutations of this model already appearing--associ-ate programs, lay ecclesial movements, mixed emerg-ing communities--are foreshadowings, I believe, of an absorbing future. This is true even if most of them fail, as new ventures often do. More will continue to spring up until some "get it right." With their centuries-long experience and the passions of at least some of their vowed members, today's religious congregations could help in this rebirth. Notes ~ David Nygren and Miriam D. Ukeritis, The Future of Religious Orders in the United States: Transformation and Commitment (Westport, Conn.: Praeger, 1993). 2 A good example would be the third and fourth of the so-called "Transformative Elements" developed by the joint CMSM/LCWR meet-ing in Louisville in 1989--and cited on pp. 255 and following of Nygren and Ukeritis's book. Supposedly, this is what religious life would look like in the year 2010. In hindsight, it reflects more wishful thinking than any real-world trends for vowed religious life. 3 Fora fuller discussion of social movements and social-movement organizations, see my Pathways to Re-Creating Religious Communities (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1996), chap. 4. 4 See Elizabeth Rapley, The D~votes: Women and Church in Seventeenth Review for Religious Century France (Montreal: McGill-Queens University Press, 1990), and Anne Taves, The Household of Faith: Roman Catholic Devotions in Nineteenth Century America (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1986), for these waves of devotionalism. s My own congregation has individual sisters--of whom I am extremely proud--deeply involved in all of these activities. 6 Or maybe not so famous--the citation refers to a line from Moli~re's comedy Le bourgeois gentilhomme, in which a nouveau riche man is being tutored in literature and discovers that he has been speak-ing prose all of his life without knowing it. 7 See, e.g., Rodney Stark and Roger Finke, Acts of Faith: Explaining the Human Side of Religion (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000), chap. 7. 8 According to the Nygren and Ukeritis study, mission identity is the principal variable influencing a congregation's success (see pp. 97-98). 9 Several religious families have known this instinctively. For exam-ple, my own Vincentian tradition includes, not only the Congregation of the Mission, the Daughters of Charity, and the various Sister of Charity Federation congregations, but also the St. Vincent de Paul Society, the Ladies of Charity, Vincentian Marian Youth, the Association of the Miraculous Medal, and the Missionary Cenacle, all of which are move-ment organizations of nonvowed laypersons. Similarly the Salesian family includes, not only the Salesian priests and Visitation nuns, but other vowed religious such as the Sisters of Mary Help of Christians, the Missionaries of St. Francis, the Salesian Missionaries of Mary Immaculate, and the Oblate Sisters of St. Francis de Sales, plus lay groups such as the Association of St. Francis de Sales and the Oblates of St. Francis de Sales. to I am not referring here to societies of apostolic life like the Daughters of Charity, who make annual vows, but rather to including an option for temporary membership in congregations whose members are now expected to make perpetual vows. Moreover, even among the Daughters of Charity, there is the assumption that one's annual vows are really for life. ~' According to the Center for Applied Research in the Apostolate (CARA), Emerging Communities of Consecrated Life in the United States (Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press, 2006, p. 16), ten of the twelve most rapidly growing new indigenous emerging communities in the U.S. are mixed communities with some, or all, lay members. t2 CAP, A, Emerging Communities, p. 16. 377 68.4 2009 Wittberg ¯ Opening a New V~ndow ,3 Wittberg, Pathways, pp. 80-85. ,4 The above-mentioned St. Joseph of Arimithea Society seems to operate through "franchises"--the Cleveland and Louisville chapters appear to be separate from each other. Many.other groups enlisting high school or college students operate similarly. A Sampler of Potential (and Actual) Religious SMOs 1. "Franchised" Youth Groups (local school chapters, perhaps with a national headquarters supplying materials or training) a. Volunteers supporting a local soup kitchen b. A high school or college centering-prayer group c. Group spiritual direction, big brother/sister spiritual mentoring d. Adoration societies, sodalities 2. Ministry Groups (non-age-specific, perhaps linked nationally in a network or association) a. Supporting crisis pregnancies b. Companioning the dying c. Running a women's shelter d. Strengthening marriages 3. Spirituality Groups (may have a centralized head-quarters and/or a youth branch - see #1, above) a. Devotion to a particular saint b. Performance of a particular spiritual practice (Eucharistic adoration, centering prayer, pilgrimages) c. Spiritual mentoring, group spiritual direction 4. Lifestyle Groups a, Simple living b. Intentional communities c. Peace and reconciliation Review for Retigious WILLIAM P. CLARK Revisiting Religious Identity mnthe years following the Second Vatican Council, uch attention was focused on changes in religious life. Much writing and much effort have been directed toward rethinking or reimaging religious life. In light of all that, one might be tempted to say "Enough already!" An old saying has it that familiarity breeds contempt. Familiarity can also breed complacency and neglect. It might be good, then, to look once again at what it means to be a religious, to reflect on our religious iden-tity. Besides the decree on the renewal of religious life, Perfectae caritatis, Vatican Council II also spoke of the role of religious in Lumen gentium, the dogmatic con-stitution on the church. In chapter 6, §44, we read that the religious state "manifests in a special way that the kingdom of God and its high requirements transcend all earthly considerations, bringing home to all people William P. Clark OMI, longtime teacher and administrator, lives at St, Henry's Oblate Residence; 200 North 60th Street; Belleville, Illinois 62223. 379 68.4 2009 Clark ¯ Revisiting Religious Identity the immeasurable greatness of the power of Christ in his sovereignty and the infinite might of the Holy Spirit marvelously working in the church.'" The council is simply saying religious life gives special witness that, above and beyond earthly values, there is something we call the kingdom of God. While religious life's characteristic witness is spe-cial, it is not exclusive. It is the duty of all Christians to give witness to the kingdom of God. All Christians, be they lay or religious, are committed to living out their baptismal consecration. Emphasis on the common voca-tion of all Christians highlights what is of fundamental importance, the fullness of Christian life informed by charity. That emphasis also counteracts any tendency to draw unfavorable comparisons between the lay and religious states, as though laypersons are somehow sec-ond- class citizens or "children of a lesser God." That broad emphasis on all Christian life is rooted in the most ancient tradition of monasticism. In his masterful study The Spirituality of the New Testament and the Fathers, Louis Bouyer finds certain constants in the literature of monasticism. He affirms them because they were some-what obscured by later developments. One such insight is that the primitive monk did not appear special. Whether by himself or others, his vocation was not considered par-ticular or exceptional. The monk was simply a Christian, a devout layperson who took the most radical means to live the Christian life to the fullest. The monk proposed no other end than to be saved. All his life, the monk asked for no other teaching from his elders than the means of attaining that goal. His fundamental and persistent ques-tion was: "Tell me. How can I be saved?" Two points need emphasis. First, holiness, the fullness of Christian life, is not something reserved Review for Religious to religious, while laypersons are called to something less. Second, religious are to focus on the essential, on the search for union with God, and not see holi-ness as something incidental or distinctive which sets them apart from "ordinary" Christians. Fundamental to religious identity is one's identity as a Christian. It is the fullness of the Christian experience that constitutes Christian identity. There are three major elements in the Christian expe-rience. The first is not distinctively Christian. It is the human preamble. It consists in discovering that human happiness and fulfillment are not brought about by tak-ing. We all start out that way, looking for that certain something or combination of things which, if we could only latch on to it and make it our own, would provide fulfillment. The Christian experience becomes possible once we realize that what we really seek is something or someone to give ourselves to, something or someone greater and nobler than ourself. It is a search for some-thing or someone that will endow our life with meaning and purpose. Finding that something or someone is the beginning of faith as a lived reality. It becomes the basis of all commitment worthy of the name. The second element makes the experience specifi-cally Christian. It consists in finding that greater-than-self reality in the person of Jesus Christ. It is finding in his words meaning for our life. It is finding in his life the pattern and model for our own. The third element is the desire to share what we have found. We want others to find the meaning and purpose that have become our own. We want to live out this meaning and purpose in love for one another. The full Christian experience, then, is apostolic and missionary. 381 68.4 2009 Clark * Revisiting Reli#ous Identity 382 If this Christian experience is not real in our lives, no amount of theorizing about what it is or should be will ever make it so. Furthermore, theorizing will not help much in our lives as religious. If the Christian experience is real, it can be progressively liberating, freeing from all those attitudes of mind and spirit that limit us to operating within the narrow confines of self-ish interests. Like all Christians, religious are to give witness by their lives to the possibilities open to everyone for liber-ation from enslaving attitudes like inordinate ambition, defensiveness, possessiveness, self-pity, and cynicism. The life of religious should also be an active witness to joy, to hope, and to love. The call to the fullness of Christian life and to the perfection of charity seems so daunting that peo-ple often try to evade its challenge. In doing so, lay-persons sometimes say that holiness is something for religious and priests, not for "ordinary" persons like themselves. Likewise, religious sometimes find a type of escape through dependence on the system. Religious life involves a kind of system that includes public vows, constitutions and rules, and a goodly number of prac-tices found in the traditions of various religious insti-tutes. We might think just plugging into the system will make us as holy as we need to be. It is easy to just coast along. All too easily we can come to rate as virtue whatever is conformable to our religious surroundings. Custom and routine can so enslave us as to dispense us from personal decision. Of course, custom and routine, as well as the regular practices and exercises of religious life, are also great helps--if we understand and use them righdy. They do not, however, carry us all the way. They reflect the fact Review for Religious that in choosing to be religious we have set the direction of our lives. But they do not guarantee we never lose that direction. The need for ongoing renewal is simply the need to reaffirm, to reset our direction. The human condition is such that nothing can be taken for granted except the constancy of God's grace, of his invitation. Another point on which the council spoke explic-itly is religious consecration. Everyone of the faithful is consecrated to the divine service by baptism. Clearly, in various contexts the word "consecration" has various meanings, causing difficulties to be raised about how this idea applies to religious. In address-ing those difficulties, the council begins by relating religious con-secration to baptism. Religious consecra-tion adds nothing to the baptism's sacramental character. It is, however, in the line of baptismal grace. That grace can be lived in varying degrees of intimacy. The coun-cil speaks of religious as being "more intimately conse-crated to the divine service." That phrase is significant. It does not say "more strictly" or anything that might seem to emphasize some form of legal obligation. What the council points out by those words is that baptismal consecration can be interiorized to a greater or lesser extent by grace and by love. Ultimately, the truth of every Christian life consists in one's baptismal consecration. But God calls people to live out that consecration in different ways. For religious The call to the fullness of Christian life and to the perfection of charity seems so daunting that people often try to evade its challenge. 68.4 2009 Clark ¯ Revisiting Religious Identity the call to God's service is more explicitly determined. It takes on a particular form or style. To put that a bit differently, for religious the vital response called for by God's loving initiative is made concrete in a specific and distinctive way. By making a certain explicit profession of the evan-gelical counsels, persons technically become religious. The purpose of such profession is to commit ourselves more explicitly and more profoundly to living our bap-tismal consecration. At one time religious profession was commonly called "a new baptism" in homilies at profession ceremonies. In those days it was not always adequately explained. The council statements revitalized and clarified that idea. In reflecting on religious consecration, it is important to realize that such consecration is the work of God. Virtually every page of Scripture speaks of God's initiative in regard to creatures. Jesus told his disciples: "You have not chosen me. I have chosen you." Passages like that have a particular resonance for religious. It is God who calls religious and consecrates them through the church's ministry. Because it is God's work, religious consecration is permanent. God's choice and God's fidelity are unchanging. God is constant in the grace he offers, in his call. Our challenge is to keep trying to respond generously to that call. Religious consecration represents a special instance of the mysterious interaction between grace and human freedom. Obviously it is essential that those consecrat-ing themselves to God's service be free. At the same time we must recognize that the consecration is ulti-mately God's work. Religious profession has never been considered a sacrament by the church. In recent years many things have been referred to as "sacraments," in a broad sense Review for Religiot~s of the word. In the strict sense, religious profession is not a sacrament. That does not mean, however, that religious profession has no reality beyond the disposi-tion and conduct of the subject. Religious consecration is something accorded to free persons precisely as free. To be received, the consecra-tion requires a personal response to God's call. That response includes certain characteristics. It must be sufficiently enlightened, conscious, and free. A person's intention and the vows which formulate that intention are eminently free acts. Conversely, when the church dispenses from vows, she judges that in reality there was some impediment to freedom in the original profes-sion, something lacking in what was offered for divine consecration. The fact that religious consecra-tion is not a sacrament does not mean nothing more is involved than the liberty of the one making vows. On God's part the engagement is indefectible. A vocation consists in a person's being called to a cer-tain manner of life. Each vocation has its own structure and laws. Those laws are not to be understood as some-thing imposed from the outside. They derive from the very nature of the life in question. To ignore structure and laws proper to religious life would be to think of reli-gious life as funny putty which can take on any shape one gives it. History shows significant variations in the forms of religious life. But, in the last analysis, that life must always be directly related to what is most fundamental in Christianity, the search for God and growth in charity. A vocation consists in a person's being called to a certain manner of life. 68.4 2009 Clark * Revisiting Religious Identity In the Christian understanding of life, the goal is progress in charity. Jesus made it clear that love of God and love of neighbor sum up the whole law. Love gives ultimate value to what we do. That is why religious con-secration is wholly directed towards love of God and neighbor. It is precisely that love which gives the value of consecration to the activity of the religious. The idea that one's activities must continuously be animated by charity is certainly not new. We have heard it countless times in one form or another. Nor is it distinctive. It is true for everyone. By religious profession we are committed to that goal more explicitly, more officially, as it were. On the part of religious, the consecration of one's life consists in using distinctive means for achieving the common Christian goal of progress in charity. My cir-cumstances, my state of life, determine the means that are most appropriate for me. Jacques Maritain offered an excellent definition of means. He said means are the end in the process of coming to be. Thus, at each moment of our journey toward the perfection of love, we make that end real by employing the appropriate means, Perhaps we should emphasize the word "journey." While we hope we are on the right road and we try to keep moving in the right direction, we never reach the end, the perfection of love, in this life. Another way to put that is to say that holiness is not so much a place we arrive as it is the way we travel. Consciousness of our shortcomings and failures makes us reluctant to think of ourselves as holy. A num-ber of years ago Archbishop John Roach of St. Paul, in a pastoral letter on spirituality titled A Friendship Unlimited, offered a valuable insight in this regard. He wrote: "It's a funny thing, but for years I couldn't imag- Review for Religious ine thinking of myself as holy. I was equating holiness with perfection, and I knew I simply didn't have that. It is clear to me now that holiness is the desire to be a friend of Jesus Christ and to surrender my will to God. I may stumble along with that. I have so far--but, so long as I continue a sincere effort toward that goal, I am holy." It might help also to remind ourselves of one charac-teristic of holiness that is often overlooked. It is compat-ible with human frailty. Many stories and most statues of saints give a wrong impression, an impression of otherworldliness that obscures the fact that those saints were real human beings with human faults and weak-nesses. Examples are plentiful. St. Augustine was given to rages. St. Thtr~se of Lisieux had bouts of depression. St. Vincent de Paul, the great saint of charity, was said to be bilious and subject to fits of anger. St. Jerome was aggressive and insulting to persons who disagreed with him. In fact, one of his contemporaries said of Jerome that his malice was such that no saint could live within miles of him. The secret of all of those people is that they never gave up struggling and working to overcome their human weaknesses. They knew what counts is not the triumphant victory of total perfection, but persevering effort. Teresa of Avila said we should strive and strive and strive, for we were made for nothing else. She was right, of course, but the way she said it makes it sound hard. And it is a constant challenge. We cannot gloss over that. But I like the way T.S. Eliot put it when he said: "We are only undefeated because we keep 6n trying." In question 186 of the Secunda Secundae of his Summa Theologiae, St. Thomas treats of things that per-tain to the religious state. He speaks at length of the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience and argues their ,387 68.4 2009 Clark ¯ Revisiting Religious Identity necessity for religious perfection. He points out that "a person cannot offer his whole life to God directly because that life is not lived all at once, but only suc-cessively. Hence, a person can only offer his whole life to God through the obligation imposed by vows" (my translation). Thus, our real challenge is not the perfor-mance of heroic acts, however beautiful, however noble, for every human act is by nature transitory. Our real challenge is the heroism of a whole life, offered to God without measure, without reservation, without regret. This is done through religious consecration, through the vows. And in this the entire person, mind and heart, must be involved and permanently involved. Note ' The Vatican translation and the revised Flannery translation, melded. See Lumen gentium, chapter 6, §44: "Regni Dei denique super omnia terrestria elevationem eiusque summas necessitudines peculiari modo patefacit [status religiosus]; supereminentem quoque magnitudi-nem virtutis Christi regnantis atque infinitam Spiritus Sancti potentiam in Ecclesia mirabiliter operantem, cunctis hominibus demonstrat." Ed. 388 Questions for Personal and Group Reflection If religious sisters and brothers are identified with the laity, how do you claim their special religious identity? 2. Has Clark been helpful in underlining aspects of religious identity that distinguish religious life for priests, sisters, and brothers? Would you want to add or subtract anything? Review for Religious LEO J. HERIOT Encounters Early and Late: John Bosco and Paul Saul was present at the stoning of the lov-able Stephen, and perhaps this increased the Pharisee's desire for Christian blood. Fernand Prat says, "Not content with being present at the torture of the victims, he entered into houses and dragged out the inmates, both men and women, to hale them to the dungeons."' Saul set out on the trail of Christians not to evangelize them but in pursuit of them to bring them to what he thought was justice. He had asked the priests to give him the offi-cial mission to seek out Jesus' disciples in the synagogue of Damascus and drag them before the Sanhedrin. In the Acts of the Apostles we have three accounts of the vision on the way to Damascus (9:1-19; 22:3-21; 26:12-20). It is Luke who makes the first announcement of Leo J. Heriot SDB wrote for us about Margaret Bosco in 2007. His address is now Don Bosco House; PMB Government Buildings; Suva, Fiji-Islands. exemplars of faith 389 68.4 2009 Heriot ¯ Encounters Early and Late this event; later we hear Paul giving his own account. The accounts agree on the important points: the occa-sion, the place, the time of day, the dazzling light, Saul's fall to the ground, his dialogue with the mysterious voice, his blindness, the return of his sight, and the total change in his life. From being a firebrand of a persecutor, he became a sower of the Good News of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. The whole change of his behavior, his heeding of the strong voice's words, and his subsequent dedica-tion to a new cause make us aware that he was not led by fanaticism or goaded on by personal ambition. Jesus Christ seized him, pulled him close to himself. From the accounts of this conversion, nothing presaged it, noth-ing hinted that the fierce Pharisee would change regard-ing this person Jesus Christ, changing and becoming a disciple of Jesus and a preeminent apostle. Looking at this conversion, one gets the impression that it is beyond human explanation. It would be folly to try to find some simple plausible human causality. Pauline theology gives pride of place to the empow-erment of grace, and Saul was certainly under the influence of grace. It is not possible to explain this con-version apart from divine grace. Paul helps us with these assertions from his writings: "Have I not seen Jesus, our Lord?" (1 Co 9:1). "Last of all, as one untimely born, he appeared also to me" (1 Co 15:8). Grace found in this man fertile soil that would produce a great extension of the stoW of Jesus, a stoW that would make people aware of the immense, unfolding gift God gave to Saul and to the world on Saul's way to Damascus. Saul's encounter with the risen Lord as he sought to obliterate that Lord's message had a huge influence on him. One of the Apostle's boldest and most profound Review for Religious teachings was that of Christians' being incorporated into Christ's mystical body. For this Pharisee, Paul, Christ becomes all in all; Christ becomes everything. This idea is contained in seminal form in the question Jesus puts to the blinded Saul: "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?" (Ac 9:4). Paul was not attacking Jesus directly; he was defending his Pharisaism by trying to prevent Jews from falling into the ways of this crucified "reformer" of Judaism. In Saul's conversion God's grace is evident, work-ing a transformation immediately. It is like the blinding flash of light. The extraordinary illumination appar-ently brought about Saul's immediate com-pliance with Jesus' words and his swift transformation into a disciple and apostle. The stunned Saul changed his course once and for all. He found himself in a new world, a world almost alien to the life he had lived until then. Paul was overwhelmed by a new faith, a belief in the person of Jesus Christ as his Lord and master. He began a new and demanding life that only a strong and deep faith and love could sustain. He expresses that faith in his Letters to the Galatians and the Romans, an active faith that revolutionizes the whole person and alters the direction of people's lives. From the moment of his conversion the gaze of Saul is riveted on the person of Jesus Christ. We would go too far, however, if we reduced Paul's life to the moment One of the Apostle's boldest and most profound teachings was that of Christians" being incorporated into Christ's mystical body. 391 68.4 2009 Heriot ¯ Encounters Early and Late of his conversion. His continuing deep reflection on the mystery of God's love strengthened him as he went about his apostolic life. Our beliefs, too, are not simply the result of our reading or reflection, but come from God's communication with us, often in the quiet con-templation of a Divine Master stretching out his hand to us and telling us to find him in our contemplative awareness of others and ourselves. 392f The Boy from Becchi, Another Man of Zeal In an audience on 21 March 1858, Pope Pius IX, now Blessed, told the priest from Turin: "When you get back to Turin, Don Bosco, you write down these dreams and everything else you have told me, minutely, and in their natural sense. Save all this as a legacy for your Congregation so that it may serve as an encouragement and norm for your Sons.''2 After nine years this same pope questioned him once again. Don Bosco's reply was "I truthfully lacked the time. I was so taken with [any number of things]." The pope said, "Well then, I not only advise you, but order you to do it." Don Bosco promised to write down his early experiences, and he kept his word.3 In his poor handwriting Don Bosco scrawled out his first dream. "At the age of nine I had a dream that really changed my life and influenced me throughout my life. I dreamed I was near my house at Becchi, and a crowd of young boys had gathered there to have fun and play games. Some were playing, some were laughing, and not a few were cursing. Shocked by their expres-sions, I jumped in among the boys, swinging wildly and shouting at them to stop saying those things. At that moment a Person appeared among us. He was dressed in a long white robe, and his face radiated such light Review for Religious that I could not look at it. Suddenly he called me by name. 'Giovanni, you have to win these boys not by blows but with gendeness and kindness (bont~). So begin right now to show them that evil is ugly and virtue is beautiful.'" Although these words confused him, this little boy, nine years old in 1824, was being commissioned for God's work. He said, "I am so small and these are young men. What you are asking me to do seems to be impos-sible." But he was told: "What seems so impossible, you must achieve by being obedient and acquiring knowledge." The boy shouted, "You ask me to do the impossible!" The voice said, "I will give you a teacher under whose guid-ance you will learn and without whose help all knowl-edge becomes foolishness." Beside this Person stood the Lady to whom young Bosco's mother had taught him to pray regularly. The Lady, taking his hand, said, "Giovanni, look carefully. What do you see?" The crowd of boys was changed into goats, dogs, cats, bears, and various other animals. The Lady of his dream said to him, startlingly: "This is your field of labor." Then she gave him a one-word recipe for getting these boys to improve: "amorevolezza" (loving concern). The wild animals disappeared, having been turned into sheep. The Lady then told him, "In due time you will understand," and with that she put her hand on his head. At table for morning coffee he told his family about his dream. Each one said something different. His "At the age of nine I had a dream that really changed my life and influenced me throughout my life." 393 68.4 2009 Heriot * Encounters Early and Late brother Joseph said, "Oh, Giovanni, you are going to become a farmer looking after sheep and goats, caring for them." His brother Anthony said, "Oh, Giovanni, you are going to become the leader of a gang of ban-dits!" After other such remarks, their wise old grand-mother said in an authoritarian tone: "Giovanni, take no notice of dreams." And Mama Margaret said con-vincingly, "Prepare yourself, Giovanni, for your future apostolate." This, then, is what Pope Pius IX referred to in 1858 when he told Don Bosco: "This is the begin-ning and the foundation of your work. Give this dream to your Congregation and make it a part of their life." On the road to Damascus, Paul was astonished by the voice that changed his life. It had the power to change his life and send him on a new mission. While any comparison of nine-year-old John Bosco's dream to Paul's experience near Damascus would be lopsided, we may remind ourselves that both of them were impelled into a new life, a new apostolate, by mysterious expe-riences beyond usual explanation. Are there not many other divinely wondrous experiences as well? Why not keep them in mind? Notes ~ Fernand Prat, The Theology of St. Paul (London: Burns and Oates, 1964), p. 25. 2 The Biographical Memoirs ofSaintJohn Bosco, ed. Eugene Ceria SDB (New Rochelle, New York: Salesiana Publishers, 1980), vol. 5, p. 577. 3 Ceria, Biographical Memoirs, vol. 1. pp. 95-96. Review for Religious HILDA KLEIMAN On Hilda of Whitby ~ah~na tIr oennt eorre da tfheea msto dnaayst.e Ir yw, Ia hs ando nt orta cisheodse an Catholic, and I was not named after a saint, though I had a lovely name. After I entered, the prioress asked me to choose a patron, and I chose St. Hilda of Whitby. Initially I hesitated to choose her because, generally speaking, we do not know much about her. We know when she was born and died, where she lived, and some of the activities she pursued, activities for which she was well known and respected. But we know little about her character, her spirit, or her inner life. How did the tone of a gathering change when she walked into a room? How did she regard those whose lives and souls were entrusted to her care? Was her glance warm or cool? Did she have a glint in her eye? Answers to these ques-tions seemed permanently unavailable. A few months after I entered my community, I attended a concert given by Festival Chorale Oregon, Hilda Kleiman OSB writes from Queen of Angels Monastery; 840 S. Main Street; Mt. Angel, Oregon 97362. Email: ajkjune@juno.com 68.4 2009 Kleiman ¯ On Hilda of Wbitby a local, award-winning choir directed by Dr. Solveig Holmquist. I had been a student in her college choir for three years at Western Oregon University. I was excited to see her again, even from a distance, even from the back as she conducted the choir. When she entered the concert hall, she was as I had remembered--not tall or physically imposing, yet filled with a presence that shot through her spiky hair, her sharp eyes, and her earrings and many bracelets. I saw a woman in full possession of herself and the situation at hand. She stood before the choir and the orchestra, and they knew what to do sim-ply by the movements of her hands and a thin baton. I remembered standing before her with my eyes on every move she made. In every gesture, every expression, she embodied musician and conductor. She made the vocalists and musicians one as we let her lead us--as, with our minds but also our hearts, we let her be our breath to the very last note. When Dr. Holmquist arrived at Western, she had clearly learned how to draw people together. Shortly after being hired, she was told there were no students at Western who could really sing. Given that this was untrue, and even uncharitable, Dr. Holmquist did not listen. She simply set up a table at the activities fair at the beginning of the school year and started signing students up for auditions. By the end of the year, she had set the choral music program on its feet, doubling the size of the choir, planning tours, and establishing a student-led choir council. I began to see that music was Dr. Holmquist's life, and part of that life was invit-ing the rest of us into the music in whatever way was appropriate for each of us. I loved her for it, and I still do. Though I do not think I would have used the word at the time, I see now Review for Religious that what I received from Dr. Holmquist was a deep and vigorous image of vocation. I have no doubt that through the music she is doing what God created her to do. Shortly before I graduated, I tried to say as much to her. In her office one morning, I described what I saw in her. I said I was not a born musician like her, but rather a writer and a reader, and I was looking for my own purpose in life. The day I attended the Festival Chorale concert was November 17th, the feast day of St. Hilda, and the first time I observed her feast day as my own. As I watched and remembered Dr. Holmquist, some of the reasons why I choose Hilda began to emerge. It was not about wanting to be an abbess as Hilda was, any more than it was about wanting to be a cho- , ral conductor. It was not about imitation in such a specific sense, but about living in the presence of someone who could play a part in calling me to be who I am supposed to be and to do what I am meant to do. It was about the profound effect just one person who is living her vocation may have on those around her. If I imagined myself as a member of Hilda's monastery, much as I had been a member of Dr. Holmquist's choir, what could I learn about who I am supposed to be here and now? It was about the profound effect just one person who is living her vocation may have on those around her. 397 The Venerable Bede, an English monk and writer of the 8th century, is our sole source of historical infor- 68.4 2009 Kleiman ¯ On Hilda of Wbitby marion on Hilda. After serving as the abbess of several monasteries, she established at Whitby a double monas-tery, a community of monks and nuns. In his history of the English church, Bede tells us she taught those within her community to study the Scriptures thoroughly, to observe good works, and to foster many virtues, "but especially peace and charity." In part, the influence of her goodness was seen in the five outstanding men from her monastery who became bishops. In addition to her own monks and nuns, others from all walks of society sought her direction. In this way Hilda, "whom all her acquaintances called Mother because of her wonderful devotion and grace," guided many people to God along the path of their particular gifts and circumstances. Bede also gives us the story of Caedmon, a shy sheep-herder whom "God's grace made remarkable." One night Caedmon received a vision from God in which a man asked him to compose and sing him a song. Caedmon answered that he could not sing, and the man replied "But you shall sing to me," and he did, thus becom-ing the first poet of the English language. When Hilda learned of Caedmon's gift, she invited him to become a monk and be instructed in sacred history, which he then rendered into beautiful music and poetry. Caedmon soon became not just a poet but a disciplined and beloved member of the community as well. At his death he asked if there were any who held any ill will against him, and he was assured that there was not. When then asked if he was at peace with those attending him, he replied, "I am at peace with all the servants of God." Among well-known events of church history, Whitby is known as the site of the synod in 664 at which the controversy between the Celtic and Roman dates for observing Easter was resolved. The problem disturbed Review for Religious many people, Bede tells us, even to the point that they feared "that they might have received the name Christian in vain." Those arguing for the Roman date were victo-rious, yet Bede describes Hilda and her community as favoring the Celtic practice. While he tells us the results of the synod, Bede does not describe Hilda's response to the decision. We do not know if in the end she was saddened, relieved, or pleased. From what we do know about her leadership, however, we can perhaps assume that many looked to Hilda for guidance as to how they should respond to this decision. We can see the great respect she had for the Scriptures and the wisdom of the church. We can see that she taught those around her to be of service in all peace and charity. Even as she neared her death, she urged those in her monastery to "maintain the gospel peace among themselves and with others." I imagine that Hilda had a profound sense of perspective, of knowing, in the end, which beliefs and practices held priority. Unity within the church mat-tered more than any particular date, and gracious accep-tance of the decision of the synod mattered more than the content of the arguments. I was aware of St. Hilda before I was a Catholic because I attended St. Hilda's Episcopal Church for sev-eral years during high school and college. St. Hilda's is a small community; the church holds perhaps fifty peo-ple on a Sunday. I met the vicar, Noel Knelange, when I first arrived, and about a year later Noel's husband Bill was ordained a deacon. I attended the ordination and sang in the choir, helping to lead the congregation out of the church singing "The King's Highway" for the recessional. During the service I was taken aback 399 68.4 2009 Kleiman ¯ On Hilda of Whitby Bill's ordination gave me the image of dedicating one's life to God alone, and Noel, bluntly and without~ pretense; connected ~that image, to me, 400] by the beauty of the liturgy and the fact that Bill was grounding his life and identity in his faith. Somehow God wanted him. God wanted exactly who Bill was, a middle-aged man, a deaf man deeply involved with the deaf community of the diocese, a man who loved to fish so much that during the homily the bishop gave him a new fishing pole, now that he would be a fisher of men. Afterwards, during the reception in the parish hall, I was standing near Bill and Noel, probably eating a cookie, when Noel turned to me and said, "Well, you could do this too you know!" What? I did not want to be a deacon or a priest. I did not understand why she said that, and we never talked about it later. I forgot about Noel's words until after I had become a Catholic and been a member of the Benedictine Sisters of Mt. Angel, Oregon, for several years--even though I had often wondered when the thought of becoming a nun first came to me. Bill's ordination gave me the image of dedicating one's life to God alone, and Noel, bluntly and without pretense, connected that image to me. The seed of the idea of staking everything on "the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen," as we read in the Letter to the Hebrews, was planted and would take root in ways I never suspected. Just a few years Review for Religious later, I was led to the Catholic Church, to a Benedictine monastery, and to a surprising new relationship with St. Hilda, a relationship reflected in women like Solveig Holmquist and Noel Knelange. Regardless of whether they were aware of all the details, they could and would change the course of a life in a single breath, with a single word. The name Hilda comes from the Old English and means "Battle Maiden," a fact I learned only after I received the official word from .the prioress that I could take Hilda as my new name at my final profession. I took to the image of the Battle Maiden immediately--the tension between toughness and gentleness, knowledge and innocence, between what we think we know and what we in fact do not, a tension not to be resolved but used as ingeniously as possible until the day of death. Other people have taken to my choice of the name Hilda, to the "Batde Maiden" too. "Battle on, maiden!" says my mom before she hangs up the phone. After ask-ing me to explain the meaning of Hilda to my class-mates, one of my seminary professors warns that "from now on, you gendemen better look out!" The best, how-ever, is my friend Ania. With her I have established The Society of Honorary Battle Maidens. We have taken as our charter the words of St. Paul to the Corinthians: "But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, to show that the transcendent power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed, perplexed, but not driven to despair, persecuted, but not forsaken, struck down, but not destroyed, always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies." To bet- 401 68.4 2009 Kleiman ¯ On Hilda of Wbitby ter understand our society, I have listed qualities of the Battle Maiden, which include the following and will surely be added to as I ponder this further: ¯ A persistent love, grounded in the love of God that pursues us without end. She can keep extending her love for other people, regardless of how they respond, if at all. If she feels hurt by this, she takes it to mean that her efforts were not the most gracious way to love this particular person, and it is time to try something else. She is intelligent, so her persistence does not suggest beating her head against a wall, but rather keeping her wits about her and being willing, always willing, to try again. ¯ The beginning of an understanding of the fourth step of humility in the Rule of St. Benedict: "The fourth step of humility is that, in this obedience under diffi-cult, unfavorable, or even unjust conditions, his [or her] heart quietly embraces suffering and endures it without weakening or seeking escape." She does not, in the end, resent that this step asks her to endure injustice, even contradiction, for the sake of the God she loves. She accepts that sometimes such endurance will require her to speak her mind, to name what is difficult, recognizing that endurance can be more than just waiting for the bad to run its course. Bravery of heart becomes part of her core. She understands that false sisters and broth-ers (and are not we all false and contradictory at one time or another) are part of reality; to deny this is of no use to anyone. She uses their words and actions to strengthen her reliance on the Lord so that it remains possible for her to pray for her enemies. ¯ An enduring kindness that she tries to exercise in any situation, par.ticularly in her words. At times, she may manifest her kindness in ways that are more tra- Review for Religious ditionally recognized as kindness--offering to lend a hand in household tasks, greeting guests with courtesy and assisting them in their needs, acknowledging the accomplishments of others with a sincere compliment. Kindness, however, is also needed in more challenging situations. It is a kindness to try to change the sub-ject when she hears murmuring or gossip about some-one who is not present. It is a kindness to walk away and not participate even by listening when this tactic fails, perhaps biting back the words rising in her throat that she would like to put everyone in their place with. Kindness calls her to address only in private any embar-rassing situations that involve another person, so as not to worsen the pain her words would likely cause if spo-ken publicly. To enjoy membership in The Society of Honorary Battle Maidens, you and I do not need to be in full possession of these qualities. We do need, however, to recognize their worth and strive to live with their inher-ent tensions, tensions that in the end are simply the tensions of the cross. Image Bearer One of a kind, Here for a reason, Plucked from the mire, Now wearing white, Bearing His likeness, I am immortal, A soul crafted By the Holy. Teresa Burleson 403 68.4 2009 Vv'ILLIAM PROSPERO World Youth Day and Religious Life sharing experience 40_4] Many vocation directors will confirm that a substantial number of candidates for seminar-ies and institutes of consecrated life consider a World Youth Day (WYD) experience to have been an important part of their discernment. Many candidates say they first thought seri-ously about religious life or the priesthood while on a WYD pilgrimage. What is it about WYD that promotes consecrated life? Sister Joseph Andrew, of the Dominican Sisters of Mary, Mother of the Eucharist, asked me to speak about this very topic at a recent discernment retreat at the motherhouse in Ann Arbor. No less than a hundred 'thirty young women attended. When I asked how many had been to WYD, about one third raised their hands. The main reason for "only" a third, I William Prospero SJ is pastor of St. Mary's University Parish (on the campus of Central Michigan University); 1405 South Washington; Mount Pleasant, Michigan 48858. Emaih will.prospero@stmarycmu.org Review for Religious believe, is that most of them were too young to have attended any other WYD than the one in 2008 in Sydney, Australia. Sydney did not draw huge numbers from the United States because of the travel cost. Nonetheless, many of the young women present had managed to attend that WYD. I believe there are several reasons why WYD pro-motes consecrated life and priesthood. Though I do not have any statistical analysis to prove my points, I have a wealth of experience assisting young WYD pil-grims in their discernment about consecrated life or priesthood. I have attended four WYDs: Denver (1993), Toronto (2002), Cologne (2005), and Sydney (2008). I have served as a priest on the last three. I have wit-nessed more than ten pilgrims enter religious life or the seminary. The main reason, I believe, for the wealth of WYD vocations is that WYD gives a taste of life as a conse-crated person. Pilgrims experience about two weeks of consecrated living. WYD provides a veritable "trial run" of living the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. In. living the vows on WYD, pilgrims experience the intense joy of the universal church gathered around the pope. They make the connection that living as a religious could be enjoyable and meaningful. The possibility of consecrated vocation becomes real for the first time in many pilgrims' lives. Pilgrims experience poverty the first day of com-mitting to go on WYD. They realize that the costs can be high. As I began recruiting for Sydney, I recall sev-eral students resisting, sa.ying $2,850 was too costly. My response was: "Do you want to go? Has God put this desire in your heart? If so, then commit and the money will come. I promise. And, if not, I will personally cover 405 68.4 2OO9 Prospero ¯ World Youth Day and Religious Life Trusting God for material needs is a tangible experience of religious poverty. 406 whatever you can't. But you must promise you will com-mit to this and try your best to raise the funds. I prom-ise you, God will provide." Every pilgrim had enough funds. On four WYDs I have never met a pilgrim who fell short of funds. For the 2008 WYD in Sydney, we took seventy pilgrims from the Diocese of Saginaw, each paying $2,850. There are stories of pilgrims finding funds flow-ing in from fund-raisers and from the most unexpected sources. Trusting God for material needs is a tangible experience of reli-gious poverty: God provides. Pilgrims trust him, and all works out. From the beginning, they learn that those who commit to a reli-gious pilgrimage are cared for by God. They learn this throughout WYD, beginning with their first moment of commitment. Poverty finds many manifestations, usually very inconvenient ones. As the pilgrimage officially begins, I speak of the "great ball of suffering" that one endures on WYD. For some reason, chaos and inconvenience reign. This makes trusting God mandatory, not optional. For example, because of delayed flights, our travel time from our departure to our host parish in Kiama, south of Sydney, was thirty-eight hours. And the last two hours were in a bus with a broken heater (it was winter there) while rain and forty Fahrenheit degrees of damp cold were welcoming us. These horrendous situations created the proper spirit in which to celebrate Mass, Revie;v for Religious namely, our sense of spiritual and actual poverty: "We are not in control!" Having celebrated Mass at a crowded boarding gate in the Los Angeles airport (LAX), we found special meaning in celebrating Mass again, hungry and cold, at the very end of our trip. I was reminded of the four thousand hungry and tired people in Mark 6:1-8 who were worn out from their journey, so Jesus fed them. It was as if Jesus intentionally brought the people out to a deserted place to experience their poverty and to see and taste the goodness of God. Poverty makes pilgrims hungry for Jesus. Another example of poverty happened at the Papal Welcome at Sydney's harbor. Afterwards we were hun-gry and cold. Several pilgrims collected our chits or tickets and got our meals, bags of hot stew (option: beef or pork). After getting the same victuals several days in a row, pilgrims were cheerfully dubbing them "barf bags." Our meals were being eaten on the ground or on cement blocks or wherever we could prop ourselves up. One night, however, several alert pilgrims found some plastic chairs and brought enough over for the group of seventy to sit. We could sit and eat! We were so grate-ful. I cannot recall ever feeling so grateful for having a chair to sit on. This is what WYD does: it makes the ordinary into a gift from God. Once one begins to see that everything, everything, is a gift, then one can start living a radical Christian life. So the gift of sitting, eat-ing, enjoying each other's company, and basking in the reality that we just saw in person the Vicar of Christ, all add up to an explosive experience of the joys of the kingdom. Poverty makes human experience more real, and opens us to the true value of community. How sim-ple and uncomplicated it all is. 407 68.4 2009 Prospero ¯ Worm Youth Day and Religious Life Over and over one witnesses pilgrims making sacrifices for the sake of the group. 4081 If pilgrims are properly prepared and guided, they have a wonderful experience of interacting positively with the opposite sex. Even sleeping conditions, oth-erwise inappropriate, become an experience of intense respect and honor of boundaries. One sees the "other" as sacred and as a fellow pilgrim on the way, some-one to be honored and respected. I have never known of any of our pil-grims engaging in actions that are meant for mar-ried couples. Sleeping shoulder to shoulder with two thousand other pilgrims may seem cause for temptation and raised eyebrows, but never have I seen anything but excellent moral behavior among our pilgrims. Even where there are dating couples, they hardly ever "pair off" from the group. The whole atmosphere is one of intense commu-nal living. People are attentive to the needs of everyone, sharing and caring for one another. The pilgrim learns that one does not need to pursue or engage in roman-tic relationships to be happy. Celibacy for the kingdom becomes tangible, livable, and enjoyable. At WYD the intense communal activities, which sometimes involve distressing conditions and both-ersome inconveniences that must be endured, build a joyful esprit de corps. Over and over one witnesses pilgrims making sacrifices for the sake of the group. Opportunities for minor sacrifices abound, such as shar-ing personal items to assist another in need and collect-ing meal tickets and standing in line to retrieve meals for a group. These and other sacrifices reveal acom- Review for Religious mon care for one another. Moreover, the group lead-ers have the ultimate say in all major decisions about travel, gatherings, agendas, and special needs that arise. Individual wills give way to the group, or to the lead-ers' decisions. Through these experiences one finds joy in sacrificing one's own will for the good of the group, opening up to the gift of religious obedience. Consecrated persons make a sacrifice of their lives for the good of the church and the world. Pilgrims experience the power of loving sacrifice firsthand, and its power to build up the Body of Christ. Eddie Dwyer, a Saginaw seminarian, said: "Three things I hate are lines, sitting on the floor, and crowded spaces, but the love at WYD made sacrifice easy." All these experiences find rich meaning in the cel-ebration of the sacraments, namely, confession and Eucharist. The intensity of confessions, celebrations of Holy Mass, and Eucharistic adoration affirms God's real presence among his people. All the sufferings and joys of pilgrimage are offered up to the Father in the won-derful exchange of gifts that the Eucharist makes real. All is gift. As a priest I am overwhelmed by the power and joy of the priesthood, by the sacramental fruitful-ness on WYD. What power can be manifested in such weakness! The Papal Mass at the conclusion of WYD provides the perfect environment for the overflowing gratitude of the pilgrimage to express itself. Pilgrims, freshly and deeply aware of God's goodness, gratefully share their belongings with others. Jackets, caps, and an assortment of other personal items are offered and received in a wonderful exchange of gifts. God's kingdom becomes visible in everyone giving their things away to bring joy to both receiver and giver. In his Spiritual Exercises 409 68.4 2009 Prospero ¯ Worm Youth Day and Religious Life St. Ignatius Loyola speaks of the free exchange of gifts between those who love each other (§231). This is the Christian life. As church and bride of Christ, we receive every good thing from God and make an offering of our very selves back to him in gratitude. This joyous exchange finds particular power at the Papal Mass. The accumulation and possession of .things no longer has appeal. The giving and receiving of love becomes the reason for existing. Consecrated life witnesses to the joy of the kingdom of heaven through the. gift of self to God. The Papal Mass provides a taste of the joy offered to those who radically take up the call to follow Christ the Bridegroom wherever he goes. As I lead pilgrims to WYD, I make a point of having several priests, seminarians, and religious sisters accom-pany us. When lay pilgrims rub shoulders with conse-crated persons, consecrated life now has a face, and that face is familiar and human. No longer is the question of consecrated life somewhere off in the distance, but it is real and lived by real people. The possibility of consecrated vocation opens up as the joys of serving the kingdom find witness. I count WYD the single most important vocation promotion ministry that I do. 410 Review for Religious BENNY PHANG Marriage and Celibacy: Rivals or Complements? MMarriage and celibacy are often seen as contraries. isunderstanding about these two vocations still exists among many people who do not fully under-stand celibacy for the sake of the kingdom of heaven or the meaning of marriage. They see marriage as con-trary to celibacy, totally separated from it, and unable to contribute anything to it. And they understand celibacy as merely a pessimistic, negative rejection of married life and love. They even think celibacy is responsible for many sexual problems. About these matters people raise critical questions such as: Is marriage contrary to celibacy or even a rival? Is marriage a higher and better state than celibacy, or is it the other way around? Does marriage confirm celibacy or devalue it? If marriage confirms celibacy, how does it do so? Benny Phang OCarm, an Indonesian priest studying at the Angelicum for a doctorate in moral theology, can be addressed at Centro Internazionale Sant'Alberto; Via Sforza Pallavicini, 10; 00193 Roma, Italy. Blog: theouiosoter.blogspot.com 411 68.4 2009 Pbang ¯ Marriage and Celibacy On this topic I want to draw some reflections from the messages of Pope John Paul II (collected in Theology of the Body), from the critical reflection on celibacy in the Catholic Church written by Aloysius Pieris sJ, and from the experience of St. Th~r~se of Lisieux of her vocation to religious life. Marriage and celibacy, are interrelated. To hurt either one by being unfaithful in it also hurts the other. 412- Rival Vocations? In the Gospel according to Matthew, Jesus places the counsel of celibacy in the discussion of the impor-tance of marriage, when he argues against divorce (Mt 19:3-12). Pope John Paul confirms this, saying, "[From Matthew's Gospel, Mt 19:10-12], it can be seen sufficiently clearly that here it is not a question of diminishing the value of matrimony in favor of continence, nor of less-ening the value of one in comparison with the other.''1 "Christ's words on this point are quite clear. He proposes to his disciples the ideal of continence and the call to it, not by reason of the inferiority of, or of prejudice against, conjugal union in the body, but only for the sake of the kingdom of heaven.''2 One can, however, argue for St. Paul's position when he writes, "So then, he who marries his fiancee does well; and he who refrains from marriage will do better" (1 Co 7:38). Does this Pauline text not mean that mat-rimony is good, but celibacy for the kingdom of heaven is better?3 Review for Religious We need to comprehend the reason for celibacy in the evangelical counsel. Jesus says, "There are eunuchs who have made themselves eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. Let anyone accept this who can" (Mt 19:12). This is the only reason for the evangelical counsel of celibacy. The reason is not to devalue marriage, but for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. To understand the "difference" between Jesus and Paul as regards celibacy and marriage, John Paul gives us an insight: In his pronouncement, did Christ perhaps suggest the superiority of continence for the kingdom of heaven to matrimony? Certainly he said that this is an excep-tional vocation, not a common one. In addition he affirmed that it is especially important and necessary to the kingdom of heaven. If we understand superiority to matrimony in this sense, we must admit that Christ set it out implicitly. However, he did not express it direcdy. Only Paul will say of those who choose matri-mony that they do "well." About those who are willing to live in voluntary continence, he will say that they do "better" (! Co 7:38). (Theology, p. 275) The conscious and voluntary renunciation of the conjugal love of marriage and family life by celibate per-sons is not a devaluation of marriage, but it is a form of self-sacrifice. John Paul explains: "Christ understood the importance of such a sacrifice . He understood the

Issue 67.3 of the Review for Religious, 2008. ; LiVing Spiritually Being Mentored Praying Revisiti:ng Religious Life QUARTERLY 67 3 2008 Review for Religious fosters dialogue with God, dialogue with ourselves, and dialogue with one another about the holiness we try to live according ~ to Charisms of Catholic religious life, As Pope Paul Vl said, our way.of being church is today the way of dialogue. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-633-4610 ¯ Fax: 314-633-4611 E-Maih review@slu.edu ¯ \Veh 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 Josephinu,n 7625 North High Street ¯ Columbus, Ohio 43235 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religiou~ ¯ RO. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2008 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific libraryI clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All l copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the ~ first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribution, advertising,, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collectivd works or anthologies. Such permission ~ will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. Editor Associate Editor Canonical Counsel Scripture Scope Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer sJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Eugene Hensell OSB Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp Paul Coutinho SJ Martin Erspamer OSB Margaret Guider OSF Kathleen Hughes RSCJ Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Terry Steib SVD QUARTERLY 67.3 2008 contents prisms 228 Prisms 230 240 living spiritually Holy Spirit Spirituality James W. Kinn draws upon the Gospel and Acts of St. Luke and the Gospel of St. John to show how these might lead to an effective spirituality of the Spirit in our lives, A Charity Spirituality for Educators Judith Metz SC explores ways in which the special virtues of the Charity family (humility, simplicity, charity) offer educators guidelines to greater personal spiritual depth and an enriching way of being present in an educational environment. 226 255 266 being mentored St. Th6r~se's Contribution to the Catechism Joseph E Schmidt FSC reflects on the citations of St. Th~r~se of Lisieux found in the Catechism 6f the Catholic Church, particularly emphasizing her contribution to the understanding of prayer. DeSales' ~sion of Ecclesial and Consecrated Life Alexander T. Pocetto OSFS presents Francis de Sales' understanding of consecrated life, especially modeled in the Visitation, to give us a deeper appreciation of its relevance to the life and work of the church today. Re'view for Religious 281 286 praying Christian Prayer's Trinitarian Shape John Carroll Futrell SJ weaves together many scripture passages to demonstrate how, consciously or not, Christian prayer has a Trinitarian shape to it. Personal Reflection / Group Discussion Midnight Prayer in the Ignatian Exercises Philip Shano SJ proposes that we take a fresh look at what benefits a "midnight meditation" can have for a person in retreat. 290 3O4 revisiting religious life ~ The Social Matrix of Religious Obedience Bernard J. Lee SM presents the importance of relational power, the power of the weak, and a meticulous discernment in forming the social matrix of religious obedience. Of Tabernacles and Televisions Patricia McCarthy CND challenges religious to reflect on the importance of the presence of the Blessed Sacrament in their home lives today. Group Reflection / Discussion departments 317 Scripture Scope: St. Paul's Corinthian Correspondence 322 Canonical Counsel: The Lacuna Canon: Equity and Practice 327 Book Reviews 227 67.3 2008 prisms 228 T feast of the Visitation of the Blessed Virgin Mary is celebrated on the last day of the month of May. It may seem to be just a timely liturgical setting between the feast of the Annunciation and the feast of the Birth of John the Baptist. But on closer examination, the content of the feast seems to set a direction for our Christian living throughout these middle months of the church's liturgical year. What we celebrate is the simple event nar-rated in Luke's Gospel about Mary's hastening to help her cousin Elizabeth in the latter months of her pregnancy--a fact which Mary had learned about through the message of the angel Gabriel. It is more than a pleasant visit of relatives. We signify something more by our use of the word visitation. Visitation has a purpose. There is a certain expectation that a visitation is meant to accomplish something. The meeting between par-ties at the time of a visitation has a significance. A meaning of some import is attributed to this encounter. For Elizabeth the very greeting of Mary upon her arrival causes a special stirring in her womb. Elizabeth is inspired by the Spirit to recognize the early pregnancy of Mary, hardly visible to the human, eye. Moreover her faith professes the specialness of Mary, her cousin, by proclaiming that she is "blessed among women." Somehow the leap of the baby within her womb led Elizabeth Review for Religious to proclaim that this baby in its first formation in Mary's womb is truly the blessed One. For Elizabeth, the simple appearance of Mary saying "Here I am" produces such an explosion of faith--an extraordinary moment of spiritual consolation. For Mary, Elizabeth's profusion of faith is like a warm-ing confirmation of all that the angel had told her. She truly is highly favored by God. Her fiat allowed God to find a human home within her. Mary's own faith was so strength-ened by Elizabeth's words that she could only break forth in her own prayer of praise of God. Mary was the first to realize what it really means to bring God to another. Why do we recall this event with our special celebra-tion? What appears to be just a simple helpful visit between two cousins--mothers-to-be--sets a tone and direction for each one of us in our Christian vocation. For us it is meant to be more than just a celebration of an event, however special this event is for Mary and for Elizabeth. We are led to reflect on all the "visits" in our life--how we are being called to make each one of them a visitation. Like Elizabeth, do we find ourselves "blessed" by all the people who appear, unexpectedly or not, in the doorways of our lives? Do we allow ourselves to find God actively working in their lives and ours? Does the ordinary everyday interaction call forth in us a leap of faith that consoles us deeply? Like Mary, do we find that we truly are the "bearers of God" in the simple everyday give-and-take of human conversation? Are we continually in amazement that God desires to work through us in so many effective ways? Looking back on each day's incidents, do we experience a quiet gratitude, a desire to praise the God who chooses to shine out through the limitations of our all-too-human words and actions? David L. Fleming SJ 229 67.3 2008 JAMES W. KINN Holy Spirit Spirituality living spiritually 230 "Perhaps the most neglected area of theology in the West is that of the Holy Spirit," says George Montague.1 He sees an urgent need for such a theology. In 1983 Raymond Brown, the great scripture scholar, noted "an almost total absence of comprehensive books on the Spirit in the New Testament.''2 Pope John Paul urged: "The ecclesiology of the [Second Vatican] Council must be succeeded by a new study of and devotion to the Holy Spirit, precisely as the indispensable complement of the teaching of the council.''3 Recently some efforts have been made to fill this vacuum.4 The present article offers a description of the two dominant pneumatologies found in the New Testament and hopes to show how these might lead to an effective spirituality of the Spirit in our lives. Let us begin with the way the New Testament speaks about Jesus. The synoptic James W. Kitm, an actively retired diocesan priest, wrote about John of the Cross in our 66.2 (2007) issue. His address is 6318 243rd Court; Salem, Wisconsin 53168. Review for Religious Gospels all depict Jesus as imbued with the Holy Spirit, who is the divine influence in his life and ministry. Luke, especially, presents a consistent Spirit Christology in narrative form.5 That is, when he speaks of Jesus as the unique Son of God, as the long-awaited Messiah, and as Savior of the world, he generally refers to the Holy Spirit's influence on him. He describes God's presence and power in Jesus' life in terms of the Spirit. God as Spirit is dynamically active in Jesus in a unique way. We are familiar with the way John's Gospel speaks about Jesus as the revelation of God. The prologue describes Jesus as God's Word (Jn 1:1-14). God as Word "comes down" and is embodied in the person and min-istry of Jesus. This Word is the manifestation of God in history. The rest of John's Gospel does not speak of this "Word," but it presents Jesus as the definitive wisdom and revelation of God. The Wisdom of God, prominent in the wisdom books of the Old Testament, is repre-sented and even personified in Jesus and his teaching.6 John's Gospel presents Jesus as the light of the world, as the whole truth to be believed, and as the visual image of God: "Whoever has seen me has seen the Father" (Jn 14:9). These two ways of describing Jesus in the Gospels are paralleled by the two ways of understanding the Holy Spirit. The New Testament teaches that God is present and active in his Holy Spirit, so that all Christians may know God, love God, and be inspired to follow Jesus. Again we will follow Luke and John. Luke's Theology of the Spirit Just as Luke's Gospel presents the Spirit as the energy present and active in Jesus, so in the Acts of the Aposdes, beginning with Pentecost, Luke shows the Spirit as pres- 231 67.3 2008 Kinn ¯ Holy Spirit Spirituality ent in and empowering the early church. At the end of his Gospel, Luke relates the promise of Jesus to his apos-des: "I am sending the promise of my Father upon you; but stay in the city until you are clothed with the power from on high" (Lk 24:49). At the beginning of Acts, Jesus says: "Wait for the promise of the Father about which you have heard me speak; for., in a few days you will be bap-tized with the Holy Spirit" (Ac 1:4-5). Thus Jesus teaches that the Spirit is the power to be given to the apostles and the dynamic principle of their role as wit-nesses of "the way" of salvation through faith in him. Then Jesus summarizes the whole mission of the apostles and the work of the Spirit in them: "You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth" (Ac 1:8). The Spirit will inspire them to be witnesses to Jesus, starting in Jerusalem and continuing all over the world. Luke follows this paradigm throughout Acts, mention-ing the Spirit fifty-seven times. Because of that frequent reference to the Spirit, some would like to characterize this book as the Acts of the Spirit. Consider how effectively Luke describes the Spirit's work in Acts. First, the Holy Spirit empowers the dis- Just as Luke's Gospel presents the Spirit as the energy present, and active in Jesus, so in the Acts of the Apostles Luke shows the Spirit as present in and empowering the early church. 232 Review for Religious ciples to witness to Jesus: "We are witnesses of these things, as is the Holy Spirit who is given to [us]" (Ac 5:32). The Spirit inspires the early believers to speak in tongues and to prophesy: "They were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in different tongues, as the Spirit enabled them to proclaim" (Ac 2:4). Then the Spirit comes upon the new believers in Jerusalem: "They were all filled with the Holy Spirit and contin-ued to speak the word of God with boldness" (Ac 4:31). Next Peter and John are sent to Samaria to lay hands on the newly baptized: "Then they laid hands on them and they received the Holy Spirit" (Ac 8:17). The Spirit also marks out the first new assistants (deacons) as those "filled with the Holy Spirit" (Ac 6:3). The Spirit directs individual missionaries: Philip (Ac 8:29-39), Peter (Ac 10:19-20), and Paul (Ac 20:22). In Paul's case the Spirit directs him again and again (Ac 20:23). Also the Gentile converts are specifically seen as inspired by the Spirit: "The Holy Spirit fell upon all who were listening to the word. [The Jews] were astounded that the gift of the Holy Spirit should have been poured out on the Gentiles also" (Ac 10:44-45). Later the Spirit selects Barnabas and Paul for the mission to Cyprus: "The Holy Spirit said, 'Set apart for me Barnabas and Saul for the work to which I have called them'" (Ac 13:2- 4). Then, in the Council of Jerusalem, the Spirit inspires their decisions: "It is the decision of the Holy Spirit and of us." ( Ac 15:28). Finally, the Spirit continues to aid the "overseers" in tending the flock: "Keep watch over. ¯ the whole flock of which the Holy Spirit has appointed you as overseers" (Ac 20:28). Let me draw some conclusions. The constant inspi-ration and guidance of the Holy Spirit is the distinguish-ing feature of Lukan ecclesiology. Luke's pneumatology 233 67.3 2008 Kinn ¯ Holy Spirit Spirituality flows from his Spirit Christology. This pneumatology can be most effective for our Christian life and spiritu-ality. It can easily be understood by modern Catholics, because it begins with the historical person of Jesus as seen in the synoptics; what we naturally see there is an integral human being, Jesus, who is empowered by God's Spirit to accomplish our redemption. This pneu-matology can be very appealing to us because it shows the continuity between the Spirit's empowering Jesus and the Spirit of Jesus empowering us. Finally, with this Spirit theology, we can easily see a parallel in our Christian lives. God's Spirit dwells in us by grace in such a way as to empower us to live after the model of the Spirit-driven Jesus (Mk 1:12). 234 John's Theology of the Spirit Let us begin with John's Christology. The prologue of John's Gospel presents Jesus as the Word, the Logos, the Verbum. After this, chapters 1-13 present Jesus as "the truth," the "light of the world," the wisdom of God. To know him is to know the Father (Jn 8:20); to see him is to see the Father (In 14:9). John's Christology might be summarized by saying that Jesus is the revela-tion of God, the human expression of God. Then in chapters 14 to 16 John's Jesus promises the disciples a "new Advocate" (Jn 14:16). Jesus himself is their original Advocate: "We have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ (1 Jn 2:1), and now he promises the Spirit as an Advocate who will take his place and "be with [them] always" (Jn 14:16). Jesus even makes this assertion: "I tell you the truth, it is better for you that I go. For, if I do.not go, the Advocate will not come to you. But if I go I will send him to you" On 16:7). The disciples will somehow be better off after he has left Review for Religious them and sent them the Holy Spirit as their permanent Advocate. We can understand Jesus' amazing assertion here by considering the five Paraclete sayings in chap-ters 14 to 16. 1. "I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate to be with you always, the Spirit of truth, [who] remains with you and will be in you" (Jn 14:16-17). Here Jesus sets out the entire work of the Paraclete in his followers. He says that the Paraclete will dwell with them permanently as a new presence of Jesus in all of them. The meaning of this immanence is that there is a permanent spiritual status for all who believe in Jesus, and he assigns this divine immanence to the Spirit/Paraclete. 2. "The Advocate, the holy Spirit, that the Father will send in my name--he will teach you everything and remind you of all that I told you" (Jn 14:25-26). To "teach" in John is practically a verb of revelation, but the Spirit will not bring a new revelation: "He will not speak on his own, but he will speak what he hears . He will take from what is mine and declare it to you" (Jn 16:13-14). In John the teaching 0f Jesus contains all that the disciples need to know, all the revelation of God. The proper function of the Spirit of Jesus, then, is to make them understand Jesus' teaching clearly. Jesus promises that the Advocate "will remind you of all that I told you." Often, in John's Gospel, Jesus promises that later--after the resurrection--the disciples will remem- In John the teaching of Jesus contains all that the disciples need to know, all the revelation of God. 67.3 2008 Kinn ¯ Holy Spirit Spirituality ber what he told them and come to understand it (see Jn 2:22; 12:16; 13:7, 19; 14:19-20, 29; 15:20-21, 26; 16:4, 12- 13). He means that they will understand the deep mystery of redemption (through suffering and death) only after they have known his passion. These functions of the Spirit of Jesus, teaching and reminding, are also meant for us. Pope John Paul affirmed this: "The promise is not limited to the aposdes and their immediate companions . It extends to the future generations of disciples . of Christ.''7 3. "When the Advocate comes., the Spirit of truth that proceeds from the Father, he will testify about me. And you also will testify" (Jn 15:26-27). This will not be two sources of testimony, but only one; the Spirit will encourage the disciples internally to witness to Christ. When they experience opposition from the world, the Spirit of truth will work within their hearts to strengthen them in their own faith and provide them with unshakable confidence. 4. "[When the Advocate] comes, he will convict the world in regard to sin and righteousness and condemna-tion; sin, because they do not believe in me; righteous-ness, because I am going to the Father and you will no longer see me; condemnation, because the ruler of this world has been condemned" (Jn 16:8-11). In John's Gospel, there is no mention of formal public trials and judges (as are mentioned in Mt 10:17-18 and Mk 13:9). Rather Jesus' concern here seems to be for the same theological conflict that characterized his public life, namely, the great opposition between him and the world, the struggle for and against Jesus. Specifically here the Paraclete will prove to the disciples that the world is guilty of sin, the basic sin that consists in refus-ing to believe in Jesus. This sin is described often in John's Gospel (Jn 3:19; 9:41; 12:37; 15:22-24). Review for Religious The disciples will continue this contest against the unbelieving world, and the Paraclete will be their "coun-sel for the defense" to prove the world guilty of disbe-lief in God and his Word. The Spirit will also witness against the world to prove the world wrong about righ-teousness or justice, by showing that Jesus, whom it judged guilty, was really innocent and just. The final element in the Paraclete's witness against the world is condemnation, that is, proof that in condemning Jesus the world itself was judged. For, in the person of the Paraclete, Jesus is still present after his death; so, if Jesus' passion repre-sented the confrontation of Jesus and the prince of this world (Jn 12:31; 14:30), then Jesus' victory over death is also his victory over the prince of this world (see 1 Jn 4:3-4; 5:4-5). 5. "The Spirit of truth., will guide you to all truth; ¯. he will speak what he hears, and will declare to you the things that are coming" (Jn 16:12-13). The func-tions of the Paraclete here are similar to those in John 14:26, that is, to teach and to call to mind, but they are further developed here, especially by the addition of two phrases. The phrase "guide you to all truth" (or "guide you along the way of all truth," as in the Anchor Bible) seems to include more than a deeper intellectual under-standing by teaching a way of life that follows Jesus. The Johannine understanding of "way of truth" is not an abstract system of faith but a sphere of action, similar to the Hebrew Scriptures' way of life in conformity with the Mosaic law, and also similar to "the way" in the Acts of the Apostles.8 The phrase "declare to you the things that are com-ing" does not involve any new revelation, for Jesus also says the Spirit "will speak what he hears." Raymond Brown says that this "consists in interpreting in relation 237 67.3 2008 Kinn ¯ Holy Spirit Spirituality 238 to each coming generation the contemporary signifi-cance of what Jesus has said and done.''9 The Paraclete will help each generation to uncover the deep meaning of the person and mission of Jesus for their particular time and place. Parallels and Some Points John's pneumatology is quite parallel to his Christology. The Spirit of Jesus will perform many of the same functions as Jesus did for his disciples: teach them, be their advocate in trials, intercede for them with God, encourage them, lead them to all truth, and guide them into the future. The Spirit of Jesus will be both a permanent presence and an active teacher and guide. The Spirit will dwell in all Jesus' disciples. Once Jesus has departed, the Spirit of Jesus becomes the "new Advocate." Just as John presents Jesus in his public life as the God's Word, the complete revelation of God, so he presents the Spirit of truth as Jesus' mirror image present to all Christians to the end of time. Such a theology of the Spirit can assist us in our spiritual lives. We live in the age of the Spirit; we are to be guided by the Spirit of Jesus. Jesus himself intends that the Paraclete be his new persona dwelling within us. What Jesus was for his disciples, the Paraclete is meant to be for us. Jesus said, "I will not leave you orphans; I will come back to you" (Jn 14:18). More than that, the Father and the Son will dwell with us: "My Father will love [you], and we will come to [you] and make our dwelling with [you]" (Jn 14:23). This means that the Spirit of Jesus is the personal presence of God dwelling within us. The Father, Son, and Spirit are within us, but Jesus assigns this presence particularly to the Holy Spirit. This Spirit of Jesus is intimior intimo meo ("deeper Review for Religious in me than I am"), in Augustine's words.1° As Raymond Brown has observed, "the Old Testament theme of 'God with us' (the Immanuel of Is 7:14) is now to be realized in the Paraclete/Spirit who remains with the disciples forever." I 1 Notes ~ George Montague SM in the foreword to The Spirit, Giver of Life and Love by John Paul II (Boston: Pauline Books and Media 1996), p. 12. 2 Raymond Brown, "Diverse Views of the Spirit in the New Testament," Worship 57 (May 1983): 227. 3 John Paul II, Dominum et vivificantem, in L'Osservatore Romano, 9 June 1986. 4 See, for example, the bibliography in James W. Kinn, The Spirit of Jesus in Scripture and Prayer (Lanham, Maryland: Rowman and Littlefield [a Sheed & Ward Book], 2004), pp. 213-217. s See Luke 1:35, 41, 67; 2:10-11, 25-32; 3:22; 4:1, 14. 6 See John 1:33-34; 3:16-19; 4:26; 5:24; 6:29, 40, 47-48; 11:25-26; 14:6-1 I. 7John Paul II, Spirit, Giver of Life, p. 22. s Raymond Brown, The Gospel according to John, 13-21, Anchor Bible, vol. 29A (New York: Doubleday, 1966), pp. 628-629. 9 Brown, Gospel, p. 716. ~0 Garry Wills's translation, shortened. Ed. *' Brown, Gospel, p. 644. 239 67.3 2008 JUDITH METZ A Charity Spirituality for Educators 240 ~. harity spirituality" is modeled on the lives of ~ the 17th-century Saints Vincent de Paul and Louise de Marillac and our 19th-century American Saint Elizabeth Seton. Vincent and Louise were founders and collaborators in organized works of charity in France: the Confraternities of Charity, the Congregation of the Mission, and the Daughters of Charity; and Elizabeth Seton modeled her .founding of the American Sisters of Charity on their inspiration. The Charity charism of these three saints stresses seeing Jesus present in every-one we meet, especially the poor, and believing that Jesus lives and acts through us. Two scriptural passages that were guiding principles for them are St. Paul's "I live, now not I, but Christ lives in me" (Ga 2:20) and Jesus' "Whatever you do to the least of my brothers and sisters, you do to me" (Mt 25:40). Judith Metz SC is the archivist and historian for the Sisters of Charity of Cincinnati. Her address is 5900 Delhi Road; Mount St. Joseph, Ohio 45051. Email: judith.metz@srcharitycinti.org Review for Religious Charity spirituality includes response to many types of societal needs, preference for the poor, self-sacrific-ing service, hospitality, practicality, and down-to-earth common sense. The lives of our Charity saints, though filled with activity, were motivated interiorly by their relationship with God. The community motto of the Sisters of Charity is "The Charity of Christ Urges Us" (2 Co 5:14). St. Paul's hymn of charity gives us one description of what the charity of Christ looks like: "Love is always patient and kind, it is never jealous; love is never boastful or conceited; it is never rude or selfish; it does not take offense, and is not resentful. Love takes no pleasure in other people's sins but delights in the truth; it is always ready to excuse, to trust, to hope, and to endure whatever comes" (1 Co 13:1&4-7). The Charity approach to education asks us to love and accept with openness and sincerity all persons as they are, embracing them and empowering them, nur-turing their abilities, while at the same time challenging them to grow in every aspect of their lives. Elizabeth Seton articulated this to one of her friends when she wrote: "You know I am as a Mother encompassed by many children of different dispositions--not all equally amiable or congenial, but bound to love, instruct, and provide for the happiness of all, to give the example of cheerfulness, peace, l~esignation, and consider indi-viduals more as proceeding from the same Origin and tending to the same end than in the different shades of merit or demerit.''1 In a Charity approach to education, emphasis is placed on character development, teaching sound moral principles, integrity, faith formation, and Catholic val-ues principally through the modeling of the teacher. We work to create an environment (in our personhood 241 67.3 2008 Metz ¯ A Charity Spirituality for Educators 242 and in the place itself) that nurtures those we serve in this ministry. In addition to the charity and zeal of our motto, Charity spirituality stresses certain other virtues: remembering the presence of God in our lives, humil-ity, simplicity. My reflection is on these virtues and how they may come into play in our lives as educators. The Presence of God and the Grace of the Moment The practice of the presence of God means open-ness to the "now" because God is present in it. It means believing that there is a blessing, a grace, in focusing on the person or task at hand because that is what God is asking of us now. Elizabeth Seton wrote to a friend: "I am going to meet everybody in the grace of the moment, which we never can know till we find the humour and temper of the one we are to meet with--the many mis-takes all swallowed and comforted by intention inten-tion intention.''2 We never know what the moment is going to bring, but we trust that God will be present in it--and that God is present through us to others. An important principle of the spiritual life is "Be where you are, do what you are doing." You might say, "Isn't that a kind of truism? Aren't we always doing whatever it is that we are doing?" But, if we reflect for a moment, we admit that the answer is often no. Many times we perform our work in a distracted manner as we think about our busy schedules or look out the corner of our eye at a pile on our desk. Teachers constandy experience the time crunch of preparing lesson plans, correcting papers, attending meetings, and coordinat-ing extracurricular activities, all in addition to the time spent in the classroom. The challenge is: How do we remain centered on God and on one thing at a time as we juggle these many demands? How do we bring Review for Religious ourselves to the point where we can give ourselves to what we are doing--with full attention, watchfulness, and consciousness? Why do we find it so difficult to live in the present moment? We each probably have some personality traits that make focusing a challenge, but our culture works against us as well. Technological advances can prove overwhelming to both teachers and students. Who of us does not feel besieged at times with e-mail, voice-mail messages, text-messaging, and who knows what else? We are pulled in many directions, with people clamor-ing for instant responses. Our fast-paced soci-ety also makes our students want instant oral answers. They say, "Just tell us now. We don't have time to waste looking it up or thinking about it." How do we respond to their desire for quick answers when they need to go through the sometimes tedious process of learning? How do we help them become aware of the value and joy in doing the learning, and even in waiting patiendy as it slowly matures and ripens within us? Another deterrent to awareness or mindfulness is our production-oriented culture that urges us to always be doing something "useful." Thomas Merton once observed, "We are so obsessed with doing that we have no time and no imagination left for being.''3 Only through slowing down and being more reflective can we hope to live in the now attentively. Perhaps a step The practice of the presence of God means openness to the "now" because God is present in it. 243 67.3 2008 Metz ¯ A Charity Spirituality for Educators 2441 or two outside for a deep breath of flesh air, stopping to take a series of deep breaths, or finding a quiet cor-ner during a break would help us calm our spirits and refocus our efforts. Elizabeth Seton told her sisters: "Keep well to what you believe to be the grace of the moment. You will often be at a stand for what is best in a situation so new, but only do your best as you have always done, and leave the rest for our dear God.''4 I invite you to reflect for a moment on how a quietly graced focus on the present moment might make a difference in your relationships with your students, with your colleagues, with administrators, parents, and all whom you meet. Humility Humility entails the recognition that all we have comes from our loving God, and so one of the basic stances of a humble person is gratitude. St. Vincent taught: "Be wary about crediting anything to your-self. In claiming this, you in effect steal from God and do God injury. God alone is the author of every good thing.''s Humble persons acknowledge the gifts they have received. Reflect for a moment on your own gifts: intelligence, creativity, insight, generosity--things people have pointed out to you or you recognize within yourself. As we reflect, we realize that all of these quali-fies are things we in one way or another have received and have a responsibility to cultivate. We also realize that others have different gifts. St. Paul tells us: "There is a variety of gifts, but always the same Spirit; there are all sorts of services to be done, but always the same Lord; working in all sorts of different ways in differ-ent people, it is the same God who is working in all of them. The particular way in which the Spirit is given to Review for Religious each person is for a good purpose" (1 Co 12:4-7). How do I value my gifts, the gifts of others? Recognizing that all is gift, humble people are open to the multiplicity of gifts around them--open to all the richness and diversity in the world. We can be infinitely enriched if we maintain an openness of spirit. Teaching demands humility. It is about being receptive even when it is difficult. Elizabeth Seton told her early sisters, "The [person] who is truly humble, accepts willingly, without resentment, all that [he or she] receives, though these be corrections, reprimands, slights, or anything else that may disturb her peace or hurt her feelings . This [humble] person is not demanding, domineering, dictatorial, but goes about with that quiet power which finds its source in selflessness.''6 From another perspective, at a commencement address an educator-friend of mine recently noted: Teaching is mostly about listening [which is another way of receiving]. Listen to the rhythms of life puls-ing through your bodies and in the environment all around you, both natural and cultural. Listen to the music of the spheres, as the ancients described in the rhythms of the cosmos. Most important, listen to each other, your friends and neighbors, of course, but your adversaries too. Because if you do I know that you will find they share the same aspirations as you, even though the path they choose to attain them is different from yo~ars.7 What are some manifestations of this virtue as applied to the ministry of education? One characteristic of Charity education has always been a holistic/integra-tire approach to learning, an emphasis on seeing and appreciating interrelationships, seeing the larger picture. Educators have always faced the challenge of preparing students to function successfully in their society--not 245 67.3 2008 Metz ¯ .4 Charity Spirituality for Educators just in a narrow sense but as fully developed, mature persons. Back in the early 1800s, Elizabeth Seton told her students, "I do not come to teach you how to be good nuns or Sisters of Charity; but rather I would wish to fit you for the world in which you are destined to live."8 How do we go about guiding students to become fully developed, mature persons--fitting them for the world in which they are destined to live? First, we assist them in their moral and social development. Some say today that years ago schools were "nothing but finish-ing schools." But perhaps today we have gone to the other extreme by attending only to academics and ignoring other aspects of our students' development. Today we hear stories about the problems employers have with issues like integrity and responsibility among their workers, and social development as well--leading businesses to offer sessions on matters like deportment, proper manners, and appropriate codes of conduct. Charity education stresses not only academic sub-jects but social skills and values such as respect and equality, such as shunning the prejudices of the day not because it is "politically correct" but because it is moral. Charity education stresses forming compassionate rela-tionships and assuming responsibility toward the larger community, rather than placing self at the center of the universe. It includes education in social-justice issues, with a special concern for the most needy, achieved not only through instruction but through experience. The early sisters always made it a priority to visit the sick and poor in their area, frequendy taking students with them, thereby modeling the Charity spirit of service. Charity education approaches the spiritual, cultural, and academic as a unified whole. It teaches self-disci- R~vie~v.for Religious pline, how to make good choices, and the need of look-ing beyond ourselves. It offers principles for making moral choices, for instance, in the use of new technolo-gies or in responding to the issues of the day. A second way that humility can be expressed in an educational environment is in adaptability or flexibil-ity. Adaptation to the needs of the times has been a hallmark of the American Sisters of Charity ever since they adopted their first Rule, which stated that "modi-fications [would be made to the French Daughters of Charity Rule] as. the difference of country, habit, and culture required." When Elizabeth Seton began, she had every inten-tion of focusing her efforts on the education of poor children. Soon she was involved in a boarding academy and caring for orphans as well. From these beginnings Charity schools pioneered in the education of women. They included all types of schools--elementary, board-ing academies, Latin schools, special education, nursing schools. They offered broad curriculums, meeting and often exceeding contemporary standards. Music and the fine arts always flourished alongside standard academic subjects. Meeting these demands of continual change and constant readjustment can be difficult and challenging. It requires a degree of humility to go back and reassess, to change your approach and redo your lesson plans. When I was taking education classes in college, one of our education professors often commented: "Some teachers have twenty years of experience, and some have the same experience twenty times." At the time I did not fully understand her meaning, but it did not take me long after I began teaching to realize exacdy what she meant. 247 67.3 2008 h/letz ¯ A Charity Spi~tualfty for Educators Educational flexibility includes the willingness to take risks without being defensive if your idea or project does not work. It requires making choices in the best interest of the students even when they resist and are critical-- even though it is so much easier to be popular. Vincent de Paul was so convinced of the importance of simplicity that he called it "my gospel," 248 Simplicity Vincent de Paul was so convinced of the impor-tance of simplicity that he called it "my gospel" and "the virtue I love most." "Do you know where our Lord dwells?" he asked; "it is among the simple.''9 There are many contemporary ways of describing simplicity: authentic-ity, integrity, genu-ineness, passion for the truth, sincerity, purity of intention, wholeheartedness. These words con-tain the essence of what Vincent was talking about. They include an openness to the rich-ness and diversity of worldviews, cultures, people, and ideas--a searching for the larger picture, a willingness to communicate, to always be in a stance of readiness to embrace more. Looking at several aspects of this virtue, we see how it can be part of our everyday approach to our educa-tional ministry. First is seeking the truth with sincer-ity and speaking the truth with courage. Jesus told us, "Let your 'yes' mean 'yes' and your 'no' mean 'no'" (Mt 5:37). St. Vincent often spoke of the importance of our actions matching our words, of the necessity of always Review for Religious being authentic: "Our heart must not think one thing while our mouth says another.''~° People spontaneously admire and trust those who live out what they believe and say. Trust is essential to our relationships, to true communication, which is what education is all about. Our challenge is to not get caught up in the conven-tions of our society, that is, for instance, to be "clever," to gain a laugh at another's expense; to act one way around some people and another way around others; to have hidden motives for saying and doing things, such as to ingratiate ourselves or be noticed, to gain some advantage for ourselves or be regarded as acceptable. Instead, we are called to authenticity, accepting the con-sequences whatever they may be. Elizabeth Seton advised her daughter: "Oh do try to be quite independent in virtue. Take its true dignity, and never let impious custom, or the shame of being laughed at, or even the contempt of unreasonable minds, tempt you to treat anyone with the least slight.''11 For our part, how often do we act in inauthentic ways with those in authority, with our peers, with our students? How can we hope to influence students to be models of honesty and integrity if we are not? I invite you to reflect on how seeking the truth with sincerity and speaking the truth with courage are opera-tive in your educational ministry. Are there times when you hide or gloss over the truth, when you are threat-ened by another's approach, closed to his or her point of view? Do you cloak the truth with ambiguity or have hidden agendas? Do you change your story according to whom you are speaking with--administrators, col-leagues, students, parents? How do you model and teach straightforwardness, integrity? One of the beatitudes is "Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God" 249 67.3 2008 Metz ¯ A Charity Spirituality for Educators (Mt 5:8). This is sometimes rendered, "Blessed are the utterly sincere." For St. Vincent, purity of heart or purity of inten-tion meant seeking God in all things, and willing what God wills. It means making God the center of our lives, being wholehearted, orienting our lives so that our sen-timents, our thoughts, our words, and our actions are working together. It means being without guile, with-out cynicism, living with a vision that leads and inspires others. How might this look in an educational setting? One way might be an undaunted quest for excellence despite obstacles--the indifference of students, frustra-tion at lack of resources, disparagement of our enthu-siasm for projects or even for learning itself. Elizabeth Seton spoke of her pleasure in study, her interest in the "works of imagination" and the "wonderful production of science." She was avid about learning, and instilled in her pupils a love of it. She never tired of teaching and always found new joy in engaging with her students. Are there times when I am tempted to act or speak with less than true simplicity? Have I ever curtailed my enthusiasm for fear of others' response? "Remember," Elizabeth Seton told her teachers, "the whole of our spirit is to be Humble and Simple.''12 When on~ of our sisters died recently, one of her former students wrote: "Sister taught me in 1931 and 1932. She had an enthusiastic interest in the subjects she taught, in my case trigonometry and chemistry, and I believe that interest eventually led me to obtain an engi-neering degree in 1939 from Ohio State University." How do we ever know the impact on our students of our enthusiasm and quest for excellence in the class- ¯ room? Review for Religious As early as 1810, Elizabeth Seton felt the need for teachers at her school to be better prepared. She established standards of excellence, insisted the sisters have time to study, and arranged that the more expe-rienced teachers mentor the newer ones. To improve instruction she established a normal school and hired additional help so that the sisters had time to study.13 Throughout the history of the Sisters of Charity, these practices have prevailed. In the late 19th century, for instance, the Sisters of Charity of Cincinnati appointed a congregational board of education and a superinten-dent of schools. They developed curriculums, organized summer school for the sisters, and required them to pass exams before they were allowed in the classroom. Mentors checked lesson plans of beginning teachers and offered suggestions about teaching methods and class-room management. The Charity approach to education, as to any minis-try, means being wholehearted in what we do, doing our best and striving for improvement. Whatever our success or failure, as long as we can say we did our best, we will have acted with authenticity and integrity, that is, with simplicity. In an expression of her simple trust, Elizabeth Seton told a friend, "If I succeed I bless God, if I do not succeed I bless God, for then it will be right that I do not succeed.''14 Charity Vincent de Paul and Elizabeth Seton were people of action. They were unable to speak of loving God wholeheartedly without immediately including relation-ships with and service to others. In one of her jour-nals, Elizabeth Seton noted: "The charity of our blessed Lord in the course of his ministry had three distinct 67.3 2008 IYletz ¯ .4 Charity Spirituality for Educators qualities which should be the model for our conduct. It was gentle, benevolent, and universal.''15 The impor-tance of these qualities in educational ministry is clear. Among the hallmarks of Christ;s gendeness, Elizabeth lists patience, vulnerability, accepting everyone equally, bearing with others' weaknesses, and quietly giving ser-vice. How many times a day do we feel called upon to practice patience or to bear with others' weaknesses? As educators standing in front of a classroom, we are cer-tainly vulnerable. Louise de Marillac said: "True charity loves and forbears in all things, even contradictions and repugnance.''16 Can we find in ourselves the resources to imitate Christ's gentleness when we are contradicted or shown disrespect? The second quality of Christ's ministry that Elizabeth Seton identifies is benevolence, the gratu-itous gift of self over the long haul, freely given with-out expecting any return. St. Vincent said: "Love finds a way: it is inventive even to infinity.''~7 Love is dedi-cated and steadfast under any circumstances; it is open to everyone in warmhearted hospitality. It requires hard and sometimes unpleasant work; it requires rising above our own likes and dislikes in order to give our attention and concern to others, valuing each person we encounter as a precious gift deserving our gift in return. It requires moving outside of ourselves for the sake of others. Elizabeth highlights universality as the third char-acteristic of Christ's ministry. Charity spirituality has a special concern for the poor. How can we reach out and care for those whom society has left behind or left out-side? Vincent de Paul says: "Love God, make no excep-tion of persons, be indifferent to all places.''~8 We are called upon to do this every day in our ministry--with Re'view for Religious the student who cannot get it, the student who does not care, the student who does not respect us. Elizabeth Seton welcomed pupils from diverse back-grounds against the wishes of her advisors. She accepted Protestant students and provided catechetical instruc-tion for the black children of the area. She said: "All apply to the Sisters of Charity who are night and day devoted to the sick and ignorant.''~9 How universal is our attitude toward all with whom we come in contact? How open are we to caring about and caring for all of creation? In commenting on the ministry of the Sisters of Charity, someone recently remarked on the qualities she noted: "They were never afraid to address the need and often the impossible; worked untiringly and with such zeal--quiet and unrecognized--to make life better for others. They embraced all the challenges lovingly and with such commitment--and selflessly served others." Her words remind me of St. Paul's admonition: "You should be clothed in sincere compassion, in kindness and humility, gentleness and patience. Over all these clothes, to keep them together and complete, put on love" (Col 3:12&14). "Humility, simplicity, charity, and remember God is ever present." Each one of us probably takes notice of a different aspect of this statement, and may be struck differently another time. I return to St. Paul's words: "Love is always patient and kind, it is never jealous; love is never boastful or conceited; it is never rude or selfish; it does not take offense, and it is not resentful." These words challenge us in every area that we have reflected upon. Along with love's priority, we strive for simplicity, expressed in kindness and patience, and for humility to overcome jealousy and conceit. Reflecting on these vir- 67.3 2008 Metz ¯ .4 Charity Spirituality for Educators rues and living them is a lifelong pursuit. May we make progress in doing so a little bit more each day. Notes 1 Regina Bechde SC and Judith Metz SC, eds., Elizabeth Barley Seton: Collected Writings, 3 vols. (New York: New City Press, 2000, 2002, 2006), 2:154. z Seton: Collected Writings, 2:402. 3 William Shannon, Silence on Fire: Prayer of Awareness (New York: Crossroad, 1991), p. 73. 4 Seton: Collected Writings, 2:702. s Pierre Coste, ed., Correspondance, entretiens, documents (Paris: Gabalda, 1920-1925), vii, 289. 6 1809 Instructions, leaflet. 7 Jeremy Curtoys, Commencement Address, Tarleton State University, 16 December 2006. s Charles I. White, Life of Mrs. Eliza A. Seton (New York: Dunigan, 1853), p. 362. 9 Coste, IX, 606, and I, 284. 10 Coste, IX, 81. 1, Seton: Collected Writings, 3a:490. 12 Seton: Collected Writings, 3a:252. 13 First Council Book, 20 July 1818,.Sisters of Charity of St. Joseph (Emmitsburg, Maryland: St. Joseph Provincial House Archives). 14 Seton: Collected Writings, 1:362. is Seton: Collected Writings, 3 a: 193. 16 Louise Sullivan DC, ed., Spiritual Writings of Louise de Marillac (New York: New City Press, 1991). ,7 Coste, IX, 146. 18 Coste, Ix, 146. 19 Seton: C~llected Writings, 2:127. Review for Religious JOSEPH F. SCHMIDT St. Th r se's Contribution to the Catechism The Catechism of the Catholic Church was first published in the United States in 1994. It is the authoritative text for the catecheti-cal renewal called for by the Second Vatican Council. Surprisingly perhaps, St. Th4r~se of Lisieux (1873 - 1897), popularly known, as the Little Flower, is quoted six times in the text, more often than any other woman and more often than many theological and spiritual giants, including St. Teresa of Avila (quoted five times), St. John of the Cross and Cardinal Newman (quoted four times each); Saints Jerome, Benedict, Francis of Assisi, Catherine of Siena, and Ignatius Loyola (three times); Saints Bernard and Bonaventure (twice); being mentored Joseph E Schmidt FSC has written for this journal as far back as 1988. The author of three books, he is a staff mem-ber of the Sangre de Cristo Center (for international sab-baticals); 410 State Road 592; Santa Fe, New Mexico 87506. joeschmid t@newmexico.com 67.2 2008 Schmidt * St. Thdr~se's Contribution to the Catechism Saints John Cassian, Dominic, Alphonsus, and Francis de Sales (once). She is probably also the youngest per-son cited. Th~r~se's published works, from which the quo-tations in the Catechism are cited, are not extensive, although they exceed those of John of the Cross. Her writings, mostly letters, poems, and autobiographi-cal material, are not organized into any scholarly or thematic theological presentation, yet her teachings, including the cited quotations, are profound in their insights and accessible in their simplicity, and they offer a new and challenging look at the truth of the gospel. As Pope John Paul II said when he made her a doctor of the church in 1997, "One can say with conviction about Thdr~se of Lisieux that the Spirit of God allowed her heart to reveal directly to the people of our time the fundamental mystery, the reality of the gospel." "Her 'little way,' the pope continued, "is nothing other than the gospel way of holiness for all." In the Catechism, as is her "little way," Th~r~se has made a contribution to the church's understanding of the renewal envisioned by the council. Her citations in the Catechism pertain to the church's teaching on the contribution of human effort to our merit and sanctification (none), on the role of love in our sanctification (e~erything), on the power of the saints as intercessors in our sanctification (a lot), on the confidence that the faithful can have of dying into eternal life (complete), on the place that the four Gospels hold in the church (unique), and on her explanation of prayer in the Christian life (remarkable). Each citation is significant; we will consider in detail only Th~r~se's contribution on prayer. Review for Religdous Merit and Love In the article "Grace and Justification," which deals with the doctrine of merit in the Christian life, the Catechism quotes from Thgr~se's prayer, her "Act of Oblation to Merciful Love." Flowing from her spiritual maturity at the age of twenty-two, just two years before she died, this prayer expresses her understanding of the role of her weak human response to grace as well as God's gracious mercy in her sanctification and salvation. It has been called an expression, in prayer form, of her "little way." Understanding grace not as a God-given commod-ity, but as God's loving presence at the core of her I~eing, Thgr~se, in the time before her death, had come to the point of abandoning herself completely into the hands of God, her loving parent, aware of her weakness and placing no emphasis whatsoever on her own merits. She would, as she said, appear before God "with empty hands." This is the part of Thgr~se's "Act of Oblation to Merciful Love" quoted in the Catechism: After earth's exile, I hope to go and enjoy you in the fatherland, but I do not want to lay up merits for heaven. I want to work for your love alone . In the evening of this life, I shall appear before you with empty hands, for I do not ask you, Lord, to count my works. All our iustice is blemished in your eyes. I wish, then, to be clothed in your own justice and to receive from your love the eternal possession of yourself! (Catechism of the Catholic Church [CCC], §2011; see Story of a Soul [SS], trans. John Clarke, p. 277) The Catechism uses these words of Thgr&se to express the church's understanding that all our merit flows from the charity of Christ, who lives and acts in us by grace. Thgr~se's prayer is the culmination of the Catechism's presentation on the doctrine of merit, 67.3 2008 Scbmidt * St. Tb~r~se's Contribution to the Catechism emphasizing that merit is sheer divine gift. All the faith-ful are invited to appropriate this truth of Th~r~se's prayer. The Catechism also quotes Thrr~se in the section "The Church Is Holy." Love is the foundation of the holiness of the Christian and the heart of Christ's mysti-cal body, the Church. Thrr~se, at the end of her life, in meditating on this truth, expressed the significance of Iove in her life and in the life of every Christian. This is cited in the Catechism: If the church was a body composed of different members, it couldn't lack the noblest of all; it must have a Heart, and a Heart BURNING WITH LOVE. And I realized that this love alone was the true motive force which enabled the other members of the church to act; if it ceased to function, the Apostles would forget to preach the gospel, the Martyrs would refuse to shed their blood. LOVE, IN FACT, IS THE VOCATION WHICH INCLUDES ALL OTHERS; IT'S A UNIVERSE OF ITS OWN, COMPRISING ALL TIME AND SPACE-- IT'S ETERNAL! (CCC §826; see SS 194) In this reflection, Th6r~se understood her own voca-tion. She could not be a martyr or an apostle--both important members of the mystical body--but she could be the heart. She would be love in the mystical body, and thereby participate in and nourish the vocations of all those members who act on behalf of the church. "My vocation is love.t she exclaimed. Thus I shall be everything" (SS 194). Th6r~se's audacity in placing herself at the heart of love in the church was not because of her perfection of virtue, but rather because, in her very weakness and imperfection, she was boldly willing to be available to satisfy Love's own desire "to lower itself., to nothing-ness and transform this nothingness into fire" (SS 195). Review for Religious Thtr~se understood that her love of God was expressed by her complete availability to receive and radiate God's love of her. This made her weakness and powerless-ness an advantage because, in being available to God in ¯ "nothingness" and "littleness," it allowed God by stoop-ing down to manifest his infinite grandeur even more. The Catechism invites all the members of the church, in their present state as sinners, to receive and radiate God's love and, even with their limitations and weak-nesses, to share in Th6r~se's vocation to be love at the heart of the church. Death and Dying In the section "The Communion of Saints: The Communion of the Church of Heaven and Earth," the Catechism again cites some of Th~r~se's final words, encouraging all Christians to be assured that the saints intercede for the whole church. The Catechism men-tions Th~r~se's promise as she lay dying: "I want to spend my heaven in doing good on earth" (CCC $956; see Her Last Conversations, trans. John Clarke, p. 102). Over the years since her death in 1897, innumerable testimonies regarding Th~r~se's intercessory power con-firm that she continues to fulfill that promise. And the church assures us that this intercessory power is avail-able through all of the saints. The Catechism quotes some of Th~r~se's dying words in the section on the meaning of Christian death, suggesting that these words can truly be on the lips of every dying Christian. "I am not dying; I am entering life," she said (CCC §1011; see General Correspondence, trans. John Clarke, vol. 2, p. 128). She expressed a profound gospel truth with simplicity, but not without much personal struggle. 67.3 2008 Schmidt ¯ St. Thgrbse's Contribution to the Catechism 260 During her final days, Thgr&se endured excruci-ating physical pain and emotional anguish. Suffering the ravages of tuberculosis that had grown worse over eighteen months, she was also plagued by dark feelings that heaven did not exist, that only nothingness awaited her, that her immense desires to do good on earth after her death would never be realized, and that her life had been wasted. She also felt frightening temptations to suicide. Compounding all these dreadful feelings was her experience of being isolated from the nuns who attended her on her deathbed. She was fearful that, if she shared her distressing thoughts and feelings with them, she might blaspheme and cause scandal. Th~r~se's struggle in faith and her final understanding of her immanent death as "entering life" can become a source of encouragement and hope for anyone nearing death, especially for those who face their last days in pain, confusion, and darkness. Gospel and Prayer Thtr~se is also quoted in the Catechism in the section "The Canon of Scripture." She never had access to a com-plete Bible, but she made the sacred Scriptures that she did have, particularly the Gospels, a fundamental source for her prayer. Her words treasuring the Gospels are cited in the Catechism: "But above all, it's the Gospels that occupy my mind when I'm at prayer; my poor soul has so many needs, and yet this is the one thing needful. I'm always finding fresh lights there, hidden and enthralling mean-ings" (CCC §127; see SS 179). The Catechism invites all Christians, in imitation of Th~r~se, to find a source of prayer in the Scriptures, especially the Gospels. Th~r~se's contribution to Part Four of the Catechism, "Christian Prayer," is probably her most important. Review for Religious Until the publication of the Catechism, the definition of prayer that influenced most of the catechetical teaching in the church through the centuries is that of St. John Damascene. His definition, formulated at the beginning of the 8th century, was ordinarily presented in earlier catechisms in this simplified form: "Prayer is the lifting up or raising up of the mind and heart to God." St. John Damascene's full definition is retained in the Catechism, but is now placed after Th6rbse's expres-sion of prayer. The Catechism asks, What Is Prayer? Th6r~se's description of prayer is given as the answer: "For me, prayer is a surge of the heart; it is a simple look turned toward heaven, it is a cry of recognition and of love, embracing both trial and joy" (CCC §2558; see SS 242). Th6r~se's description of prayer is remarkable in at least six specific ways. In the first place, it shows her personal and invitational way of expressing her teaching. She does not define prayer didactically, but says what prayer is "for me." Her understanding of prayer comes from her own experience, and she shares her insight as a personal statement that might also be of assistance to others. She says she knows "there are really more dif-ferences among souls than there are among faces" (SS 239). By retaining Th6r~se's phrase "for me" as part of its definition of prayer, the Catechism suggests that the church respects the deeply personal and unique quality of the Holy Spirit's prayer in each person. St. John Damascene's full definition is retained in the Catechism, but is now placed after Thdr~se's expression of prayer. 261 67.3 2008 Scbmidt ¯ St. Tbdrkse's Contribution to the Catechism Second, in this definition of prayer, Th~r~se incon-spicuously and successfully combines in simple language the three traditional forms of prayer: affective prayer or prayer using short aspirations or devotional formulas, contemplative prayer or prayer of centering and simple attention, and reflective prayer or meditation. Th6r~se refers to affective prayer as "a surge of the heart." She describes contemplative prayer as "a simple glance turned toward heaven," and identifies reflective prayer as "a cry of recognition and of love, embracing both trial and joy." Third, by saying that prayer is "a surge of the heart," Th6rEse shifts the metaphor of prayer. From John Damascene's more humanly effortful, even stereo-typically masculine, image of "lifting up the mind and heart to God," Th~r~se has moved to the cooperative, even stereotypically feminine, attitude of allowing her heart, moved by the Holy Spirit of love, to surge with that Love in return. Fourth, while not excluding the possibility that reflective prayer would include the sacred Scriptures, a practice dear to her heart, Th~r~se does not refer to Scripture in her definition. Rather she alerts us to the fact that in her reflective, meditative prayer she has embraced her lived experience of both pain and happi-ness, "trial and joy." She uses her ordinary experience to deepen her relationship with God. Her very life is for her the place to find God, to be available to God, and the place from which to utter her cry to God. She includes in her description of prayer a faith-filled atti-tude of acceptance and a grace-filled attitude of surren-der in the trials and joys of everyday life. One's own experiences as the place from which prayer surges are, of course, the way of prayer pictured Review for Religious for us in the lives of the holy men and women of the Scriptures, of the prophets, and indeed of Mary and Jesus. It is here that one gains a deeper understanding of the mystery of divine love. This is the way ordinary Christians throughout the centuries have intuitively prayed, reflecting on their lived experiences, searching for divine providence in the unfolding of their lives. Th~r~se's description of prayer explicitly validates this intuitive way of praying as % cry of recognition and of love embracing both trial and joy" in people's ordinary daily life. Fifth, by including the idea that loving and hon-est reflection on her ordinary life experiences has been for her a form of prayer, Th~r~se shifts people's under-standing of prayer away from "saying prayers" from a prayer book to the idea that prayer is a matter of "prayerful-ness." Thdr~se herself, of course, used a prayer book for her prayer. She recited the Divine Office with her sisters in Carmel as the usual form of her community prayer. But, when she prayed privately and alone, she often dispensed with prayers from a book and simply reflected on her own experiences, searching for God's meaning and love in those experiences. She wrote: It is not necessary to read from a book some beauti-ful formula composed for the occasion. If this were the case, alas, I would have to be pitied! Outside the Thdr~se shifts people's understanding of prayer away from "saying prayers " from a prayer book to the idea that prayer is a matter of "prayerfulness." 263 67.3 2008 Scbmidt ¯ St. Tb~rkse's Contribution to the Catechism Divine Office, which I am very unworthy to recite, I do not have the courage to force myself to search out beautiful prayers in books. There are so many of them it really gives me a headache! And each prayer is more beautiful than the others. I cannot recite them all and, not knowing which to choose, I do like children who do not know how to read. I say very simply to God what I wish to say, without compos-ing beautiful sentences, and he always understands me. (SS 242) Her conversation with God extended throughout the day, about the things of the day, in mindfulness and prayerfulness. Sixth, Th6r~se has expanded the idea of prayer to embrace, as she hopedl a whole legion of little souls in her spirituality. She does this by offering a description of prayer that, while explicitly mentioning "heaven," does not explicidy mention God, Spirit, or Jesus. For her, of course, "heaven" was the eternal embrace of her loving God, Jesus was her beloved with whom she would share eternal life, and the Spirit was the surge of prayer itself. By not mentioning God, Spirit, or Jesus, how-ever, Th~r~se allows her way of prayer to be embraced by those who, without faith in God or knowledge of Jesus or the Spirit, sincerely search for meaning, love, and truth in their life. She has expanded the domain of prayer, thereby permitting an ecumenical and interreli-gious openness that allows the Catholic understanding of prayer to be included in every dialogue on prayer or religion, even with unbelievers. It extends the common ground on which spirituality can be discussed, an exten-sion much needed in our day. These six nuances in the new description of prayer contained in the Catechism of the Catholic Church contribute significantly to the understanding of prayer Review for Religious today. St. John Damascene died around 750. His defini-tion of prayer has had an influence on the teaching of the church for twelve hundred and fifty years, and still remains an important way of understanding prayer. If TMr?~se's definition has the same centuries-long influ-ence before Catholics and others need a new definition, they will be living in the fourth millennium, about the year 3250. Th~r?~se's definition of prayer is only one element of her contribution to the Catechism and only a small part of her spiritual legacy, but even that small part may be more enduring than people have yet imagined. Farmer God I am afield o on which you scatter seed. If some hungry sparrows come to feed upon some grains before they germinate, let it be - sparrows too depend upon your prodigality. But 0 my God, allow enough of me to grow and ripen in your summer love. Before the harvest mow, let warm winds blow across this sea of wheat that I may show your beauty at your feet. Irene Zimmerman OSF 265 67.3 2008 ALEXANDER T. POCETTO De Sales' Vision of Ecclesial and Consecrated Life d chief contribution of St. Francis de Sales (1567- 1622) to the church was to remind people that the call to holiness is addressed not only to religious and clerics, but to everyone. (To deny this, he said, is a heresy.)1 Vatican Council II'S document "The Church in the Modern World" has given added impetus to this basic truth. It is so widely accepted today that it seems to detract from the worth of the religious life? Is it any wonder, then, that people, especially the young, are asking themselves, "If all are called to sanctity and the council urges laypeople to seek it in and through ordinary life, why bother to become a religious?" In recent decades we have seen a marvelous devel-opment in the theology of marriage, and many have acquired a deeper understanding of the Christian mean-ing of conjugal love and fidelity, especially as a sign Alexander T. Pocetto OSFS is currently the Salesian Scholar in the Salesian Center for Faith and Culture of De Sales University; 2755 Station Avenue; Center Valley, Pennsylvania 18034. alexander. pocetto@desales.edu. Review far Religious of Christ's sacrificial love for the church. If the sacra-ment of matrimony has such dignity and nobility, why renounce it in favor of the religious life? Charitable works of many kinds are no longer per-formed almost exclusively by religious. The state and private individuals have practically taken over these activi-ties. Highly qualified, competent, and dedicated laypeople are spending their lives for the poor, the destitute, the mentally ill, the castoffs of society. As a result, many peo-ple ask themselves, "Why enter the religious life if I can perform these apostolic works as a dedicated layperson?" Moreover, some argue that laypeople, since they are actu-ally engaged in worldly affairs, are in a much better posi-tion to suffuse these activities with the love of Christ. In addition to all of this, a number of religious con-gregations, not adapting to the times, seem to have lost their raison d'etre. Nowadays few young people seem challenged and inspired by them, especially in the more industrialized countries of Europe and North America. Given these developments, can we conceive of the church without the religious or consecrated life? Is the religious life as a form of holiness the victim of an evo-lution in the church? Is it going to disappear, giving way to newer forms of holy living? In other words, has the religious life served its purpose, and is it now to be discarded like an old shoe? The church does not think so. Vatican II, however, asks us to deepen our understanding of the religious state in the life of the church. We cannot do this by examining hierarchical and juridical structures, for they do not reveal the necessity of the religious life. We must go back to the New Testament, particularly the Gospels, to understand what place Christ had in mind for reli-gious life when he founded the church. 267 67.3 2008 Pocetto ¯ DeSales' ~on of Ecclesial and Consecrated Life The Church and Religious/Consecrated Life The first two chapters of John's Gospel are revealing in this regard. The call of the first disciples is placed immediately after the hymn in praise of the incarnation and the witness of John the Baptist. Christ first calls his disciples and then accompanies them to a wedding feast at Cana. It seems that everything takes place to tell us that, when Christ began to establish his church, he set up two states--that of Christian marriage, inaugurated at Cana, and the consecrated life, inaugurated by the call of the disciples. John mentions the time, about four in the afternoon, when two of John's disciples decided to stay with Jesus that day--perhaps implying that the Sabbath was at hand; in any case, the detail gives a spe-cial significance to their staying with him. Their answer to "Come and see" marks the first time that disciples gathered around Jesus. But, as Mark points out, disciples did not gather exclusively for the mission of preaching, but to stay close to Jesus as companions and to go out preaching at his command: "He appointed twelve, to be with him, and to be sent out to preach" (Mk 3:14). The characteristics elements of this following of Christ are these: (1) complete submission to him, (2) renouncement of material goods, (3) life in common with him, and (4) a close and intimate association with his work of redemption--his apostolic mission. In these we can see the pattern of religious life: "union with Christ through obedience, chastity, poverty, common life, and dedication to the apostolate.''3 The religious life encompasses more than the three traditional evangelical counsels of poverty, chastity, and obedience, They derive their value, importance, and significance from complete, immediate, and exclusive attachment to Jesus. One might object that the three Review for Religious vows include this attachment: they take it for granted. This is true, but it is poor pedagogy to let what is pri-mary be only implicit in what is explicitly expressed. If we reduce the religious life to the three vows, we will have difficulty making it relevant to the church's life and work today. Other elements deserve equal emphasis: total dedication to Christ, community life, and dedication to the apostolate. From the very begin-nings of the church, Jesus' followers have been characterized by their preferential love of him, by their community life, and by their apostolic zeal. "The Savior wanted the conse-crated life of his disciples and of his women followers to form the cornerstone of his church, the very first stone. "4 By a careful and prayerful examination of Scripture, we will be able to see that the religious life is a natural way of living the gospel to the full. One sign of the church in its fullness, St. Francis de Sales pointed out, is the presence of religious orders and congregations. "The true church ought to shine in the perfection of the Christian life; not so that everybody in the church is bound to follow it; it is enough that it be found in some notable members and parts, in order that nothing may be written or counseled in vain and that the church may make use of all the parts of Holy Scripture.''s In the saint's view, a full and complete vision of the church can be had only when there are people in it living con- The religious life encompasses more than the three traditional evangelical counsels of poverty, chastity, and obedience. 269 67.3 2008 Pocetto ¯ DeSales' I~ion of Ecdesial and Consecrated Life 27_0] secrated lives. This visibility is necessary for the believ-ability of the church, even in today's world. The tendency in the past was to stress the verti-cal aspect of Christianity, personal union with Christ-- "Jesus and I" or "me and God." This obscured somewhat the ecclesial and communal aspects of Catholic life and religious life and the community's (horizontal) role in life and in evangelization. To understand better the place of consecrated life in the church today, we have to see it in the light of covenant theology. Religious Life and Covenant Theology God's plan of salvation is expressed as a covenant between God and human beings. In describing the nature of the church, Francis de Sales comments, "It is for a good reason that the Christian people are called a church or a convocation, because the first privilege that God bestows on man to put him in the state of grace is to call him to the church."6 Our very first privilege is to be joined to the covenant community of the church. It is no wonder, then, that Francis tells us that by baptism, which inserts us into the community of the church, we become "the ark of the covenant.''7 The new covenant was not made between individu-als but between Christ and the whole group of his dis-ciples, a community destined to regroup all of humanity in unity. The details of Pentecost mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles, the violent wind and the tongues of fire, recall similarities and parallels in the Sinai covenant (see Ac 2:2-3). In the Old Testament, the new covenant was foretold and described in terms of a marriage covenant. Francis de Sales emphasizes this in his explanation of the church's perpetuity. This idea is so central to this study that the pertinent passage needs to be cited at length: Review for Religious The glorious secretary of God says in this place (Rv 21:2) that the church is a new city, decked out by God as a bride for her bridegroom. Now just try to imagine . . . what kind of a bride she would be if she were fashioned according to the wish and desire of her groom. If the bridegroom were to fashion her as he wished, I believe that he would make her the most beautiful, the most virtuous, the healthiest, and the most long-lived that one could imagine. For there is no love like that of husband towards his wife . I ask you, would it be fitting for our Lord to have shed his blood to reconcile his church to God, his Father, and then to forsake this church in the end so that she is devastated? Certainly such a mediator merits an endless peace, a very close covenant, about which Isaiah says, speak-ing of Christianity: "I will make a perpetual cov-enant with them.''8 This text not only illuminates Francis's teaching on the church, but on the religious life and marriage as well. He uses the exact same expression--"a very close covenant" (une alliance estroitte)--in the chap-ter on marriage in the Introduction to the Devout Life.9 The Old Testament prophets like Hosea, Jeremiah, and Isaiah were fond of describing the new covenant in terms of conjugal union and fidelity. For them mar-riage was the inspiration for a full understanding of it. The covenant in the New Testament, however, gets its inspiration not from marriage but from the marriage of Christ to humanity, that is, from the incarnation and its consummation in Christ's death and resurrection--his Passover. St. Paul makes this clear when he writes to the Ephesians, "Husbands, love your wives as Christ loved the church" (5:25). Here he envisions the church as the bride of Christ and redemption as the act of love par excellence, the model of conjugal love. 271 67.3 2008 Pocetto ¯ DeSales' ~tsion of Ecclesial and Consecrated Life 272 The church's loving response and fidelity to Christ are admirably realized in the life of consecrated virgins. Virginal consecration is the integral expression of fun-damental marks of the church--covenant community, mutual union, zeal for the apostolate. This is Francis de Sales' perspective when preaching to the Calvinists. The religious life is a sign of the presence of Christ's fullness, a sign of the church in its perfection. This suggests how necessary consecrated life is to the church. Without it the church would not be the covenant community; it would not be a full mirroring of Christ. Eeclesial Dimensions of the Religious Life In founding the Visitation congregation, Francis de Sales evidently had this truth in mind. In his preface to the Visitation constitutions, he explains that bish-ops in the early church continued what the apostles had started with regard to virgins and widows. They looked after those especially who "by a special inspira-tion were called to the state of consecrated chastity.''1° Francis notes that these were of two kinds--those who lived in community and those who lived at home. He carefully lists the testimony of Fathers of the church who witnessed to various assemblies of virgins and widows consecrated to God. If we remember that the word "assembly" is his favorite word for the church, the ecclesial relevance of his conception of the reli-gious life become more evident. In fact, he wanted the Visitation to have its official beginning on the Feast of Pentecost. He takes pains to show the apostolic ori-gins of the religious life. He says: "St. Ignatius, disciple of the apostles, wrote to the Philippians, 'I greet the assembly of virgins and the congregation of widows,' and moreover herequests that the people of Tarsus Review for Religious honor virgins 'as consecrated to God' and widows as the altar or 'sanctuary of God.'" ~1 Of course, we have to avoid a strict parallel between the state of virgins and consecrated widows with that of the religious life inasmuch as "virginity founds the order of virgins and not the religious life as such.''12 Eventually the state of virgins and widows coalesced with historical developments in religious life, yet they have separate identities: "Religious life requires and consecrates not so much virginity as chastity.''~3 As Francis sees it, the believability of celibacy is closely linked to the believability of the church. This helps us to understand the unique place of the vow of chastity in the Salesian conception of the religious life. Before the Visitation became a religious order, the only vow that was taken before the oblation was that of chas-tity: "Since the fundamental vow of this congregation is made expressly and formally of perpetual chastity and continence, it is not necessary to declare how much all the sisters are obliged to it; for in a word they must belong completely to God their Spouse.''~4 This article should be compared with an earlier one on the vows: "All those who are to receive the veil will make the simple vow [of chastity] immediately before they pres-ent themselves for the holy oblation. But, with regard to the vows of poverty .and obedience, they shall only be made upon the advice of the spiritual father and with the permission of the superior.''~5 We get a deeper insight into Francis de Sales' understanding of chastity in the church in a letter to a young lady who later became a Visitandine: "Consider how agreeable the virtue of chastity is to God and the angels because he wanted it to be eternally observed in heaven, where there will no longer be any kind of carnal 273 67.3 2008 Pocetto ¯ DeSales' l~sion of Ecclesial and Consecrated Life pleasures nor marriages. Will you not be happy to begin in this world the life you will continue eternally in the next? Praise God, then, for having given you this holy inspiration.''~6 Today, with all the talk about the sanctity, nobil-ity, and dignity of conjugal love and the sacrament of matrimony and with the consequent attacks on priestly celibacy, and indeed on all kinds of dedicated celibacy, as affecting and deforming human personality, many people are uncom-fortable with this eschatological value of chastity. The world looks upon us as freaks of bygone ages. "After all," some say, "marriage is a sacrament and celi-bacy is not." What Francis has to say about the com-plete consecration achieved by this vow will shed further light on the matter. In the letter mentioned above, he continues, "[This virtue] makes our body sacred and gives us the comfort of belonging completely to his divine Majesty--heart, body, mind, and sentiment.''~7 So Francis does not view it merely as a consecration of our bodies, but as a complete attachment to Christ involving the whole person. Marriage is the sign and image, the sacrament, of the relationship between Christ and his church. "It is to be admitted without scandal or resentment that marriage, even though a sacrament, is no more than a sacrament; it is a sign of the love of Christ and is nourished by his grace; but marriage does that under carnal conditions Marriage is the sign and image, the sacrament, of the relationship between Christ and his church. Review for Religious which Christ will abolish in his final reality and which he sanctifies only to teach us how to surpass them. ¯ This is what medieval thinkers meant when they said that marriage 'signified' the union of Christ and the church but did not 'contain' it.''~8 But this otherworldliness or eschatological character of the religious life does not militate against a genuine interest in the secular city. In fact, its genuineness can be judged only by the life of service to others that one undertakes here on this earth. Francis de Sales' teach-ing on this is clear. He sees necessary contact with the world as important for religious. In his mind, there is no essential conflict between the life of contemplation and that of the apostolate or the active life, as is clear when he states the purpose of the Visitation: "Inasmuch as this congregation has two principal exercises--the one contemplation and prayer, which is practiced mainly in the house, the other the service of the poor and the sick ¯. --it has fittingly chosen as patron Our Lady of the Visitation, because in this mystery the most glorious Virgin performed that solemn act of charity toward the neighbor of going to visit and serve St. Elizabeth in her pregnancy and composed nonetheless the canticle of the Magnificat, the sweetest, the most elevated, the most spiritual and contemplative prayer that has ever been written." 19 The authenticity of our contemplative prayer is seen in how we relate to others: "It is necessary to meditate and to contemplate only insofar as it is required to per-form our duties well, each according to our vocation. . . Do you want to know whether you have prayed well and whether you have kissed our Lord with the kiss of the mouth? See if you have a heart full of kind and charitable affections toward your neighbor, if your heart 275 67.3 2008 Pocetto ¯ DeSales' l~wion of Ecclesial and Consecrated Life 276 is disposed to help him in all his needs and to put up with him lovingly on all kinds of occasions.''2° At this point it is important to point out once and for all that Francis de Sales gave in to Cardinal Marquemont's demand to change the Visitation from a congregation with simple vows to a religious order with solemn vows because he felt that, without his sup-port and approval, the Visitation could not be estab-lished in France. Bear in mind that Marquemont was influential and a close friend of Louis XIII. Francis revealed his true reasons for this change not in his let-ter to Marquemont,2~ but in a letter to Mother Favre, the superior of the Visitation monastery in Lyons. After mentioning that Marquemont wanted to see the Visitation become a religious order, Francis says: "Now my feeling was that it would be better [to leave] it a simple congregation, where only love and fear of the Spouse would serve as a cloister, with the withdrawal that is suitable to and required by such assemblies, as we have put it in the Rules. But, since what this con-gregation can hope to receive in all of France depends upon the good reception that the Reverend Archbishop [Marquemont] will give it in his city, I consent that it be changed into a religious order.''22 The entire let-ter makes it abundantly clear that he went along with Marquemont for very practical reasons. Let us, then, bury once and for all the assertion that he did this through obedience to his metropolitan, Archbishop Marquemont. His metropolitan was the archbishop of Vienne and not Marquemont. Even though de Sales decided to give in to Marquemont, there are two things that he would not accept. First, he would not change the name from the Visitation to the Presentation, as Marquemont Review for Religious requested.23 To Marquemont he gives juridical reasons to satisfy the cardinal's legalistic mind. His real reason is that the name and the mystery of the Visitation is tied to its very nature and purpose, that is, to the nature of the religious life as he conceived it. Second, he used every trick in the book to obtain a modified cloister or enclosure so that, if the sisters could not go out into the world, the world, at least in the personae of women who were disturbed, could come and spend some time in the monastery to regain their peace of soul and mind. In this way the sisters could still serve the poor: "Inasmuch as the con-gregation must hold in high esteem char-ity and solicitude for the poor and inasmuch as there is no greater poverty than that of the soul, it will be permitted to receive in the house not only for a day, but for several days, as many as required, women who either need consolation or need to prepare themselves for a general confession or to amend their lives.''24 Along this line, it is helpful to remember that some of the sisters taught catechism in the cloister to the young ladies of Annecy. For Francis, another consequence of the eschato-logical meaning of the religious life is that it stresses the importance of the covenant community's com-munal life. In his correspondence with the Barnabite Dom Just Gu4rin, he tells him to use every resource The name and the mystery of the Visitation is tied to its very nature and purpose, that is, to the nature of the religious life as he conceived it. 277 67.3 2008 Pocetto ¯ DeSales' l/~ion of Ecclesial and Consecrated Life 278] to obtain permission for the sisters to say the Little Office of the Blessed Mother.25 He felt strongly that, if the Visitandine nuns were obliged to recite the Divine Office as all cloistered nuns were obliged to do in those days, they would not be able to accept the sick and infirm and so would lose the charismatic character of making present on earth the church in heaven: "It seems that, according to the parable [of the Wedding Banquet, Lk 14:16-21], [St. Augustine, in his Rule] makes room in the religious life not only for the hale and hearty, but also for the sick, the lame, and the blind, so that like the nuptial feast of the heavenly Spouse his home may be filled with guests."26 Francis's original purpose in establishing the Visitation is what struck the people of his day. It was an ecclesial sign representing to them the kingdom of God on earth. Vghile on his second journey to Paris, Francis discussed the Visitation with laypeople who were in the party. The observation that the nobleman Albert de Gen~ve made is extremely enlightening: "In this regard, he used to say to u~ that religious life is like the banquet of the prince in the Gospel, where no one should be refused admittance, where even the ordi-nary citizen, the blind, the cripple, is to be admitted. All these things stuck out in my mind because I had seen by experience all that he foretold [about the religious life] in the great perfection which reigned in this monastery [of the Visitation of Annecy]."27 Inasmuch as it is eschatological, religious life points to and makes present, to a certain degree, the life to be lived in heaven. It is like the wedding banquet of the Gospels. In Francis's mind, life in heaven is a com-munal one. Of the communion of saints in heaven, he says, "They give to one another [indescribable] content- Review for Religious ment and live in the consolation of a happy and indis-soluble union.''2s The eschatological, communal, and ecclesial aspects of the religious or consecrated life are, for Francis, inextricably intertwined, and that is how the saintly doctor of love expounds them. His vision can revitalize religious life today by supplanting the exaggerated individualism that threatens to diminish or destroy it. Notes ~ Francis de Sales, Introduction to the Devout Life, trans, and ed. John K. Ryan (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1950), Part I, chap. 3. 2 See Jean Galot sJ, "Why Religious Life?" Review for Religious 24 (May 1965): 505-517. 3 Galot, "Why," p. 508. 4 Galot, "why," p. 509. 5 Francis de Sales, The Catholic Controversy, trans. Henry Benedict Mackey OSB (Rockford, Illinois: TAN Books and Publishers, 1989), p. 199. This posthumously published work is more aptly rifled "Meditations on the Church." See Elisabeth Stopp, "Meditations on the Church (1595-96)," in A Man to Heal Differences: Essays and Talks on St. Francis de Sales (Philadelphia: St. Joseph's Univ. Press, 1997), pp. 51-74. 6 Francois de Sales, Oeuvres de Saint Fran¢ois de Sales, ~dition Complkte (Annecy: Monast~re de la Visitation, 1892-1964), 27 vols, vol. 1, pp. 42-43. Hereafter OEA. 7 Francis de Sales, Treatise on the Love of God, trans. John K. Ryan (Stella Niagara, N.Y.: De Sales Resource Center, 2007), I, p. 209. s Sermon on the Perpetuity of the Church, OEA, 7, pp. 215-222, here pp. 215 and 217. 9 De Sales, Introduction, Part 3, chap. 38. Unfortunately, Ryan trans-lates the French word "alliance" as "alliance" instead of "covenant," which it obviously means if we understand the term as used in the ser-mon cited above. ~0 OEA, 25, p. 294. u OEA, 25, pp. 3-4. ~2 Gustave Martelet SJ, "The Church's Holiness and Religious Life" (Part 2), Review for Religious 25 (January 1966): 33. ~3 Martelet, "Church's Holiness" (Part 2), p. 33. 279 67.3 2008 Pocetto * DeSales' V'~on of Ecclesial and Consecrated Life ~40EA, 25, p. 369-370. ~5 OEA, 25, p. 245. ~60EA, 14, p. 18-19. ~7 OEA, 14, p. 19. ~s Gustave Martelet SJ, "The Church's Holiness and Religious Life" (Part 1), Review for Religious 24 (November 1965): 901. Part 3 was published in the March 1966 issue, pp. 246-268. These three articles are the late R.aymond L. Sullivant SJ's translation from Martelet's book Saintetd de l'Eglise et Vie Religieuse (Toulouse: ~ditions Pri~re et Vie, 1964). ~90EA, 25, p. 214. 20 OEA, 9, pp. 466-467. 2~ See OEA, 25, pp. 333-342. 2z OEA, 17, p. 139. 23 See OEA, 25, p. 340. 24 OF~, 25, p. 220. 25 See OEA, 18, pp. 140, 186, 195. 26 OEA, 25, p. 53. 27 Deposition of Albert de Gen~ve, Archives of the Annecy Visitation Monastery, fol. 763. 28 De Sales, Introduction, Part 1, chap. 16. 280] Rose Window A greatflower glows in the stone welcoming light with every petal, turning in circles of blue, yellow, rose, transplanted here from some celestial meadow to bloom in the house of God. Kate Martin OSC Review for Religious JOHN CARROLL FUTRELL Christian Prayer's Trinitarian Shape Prayer as a human activity is making ourselves present to the presence of God within us, so that we can recognize God's presence in everyone and everything around us. To pray we must make the human effort to respond to God's constant coming to us. We are taught in the New Testament that we should always pray in the name of Jesus, remembering always that the Holy Spirit comes to help us to go to the Father. We are called to go through Jesus to the Father, as the Holy Spirit moves us to pray. The Holy Spirit dwells in our own spirit, and our own spirits are illuminated by the Holy Spirit--through the Holy Spirit's activity in our spirit. If we feel moved to it, a good way to pray is consciously to focus our prayer: it always is meant to take us to our creator, the Father, who praying 281 John Carroll Futrell SJ has written for this journal for fifty years. His address is 3601 Lindell Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63108. 67.3 2008 Futrell ¯ Christian Prayer's Trinitarian Shape 282 seeks to draw us through Jesus' loving heart. At Jesus' baptism, "while he was praying, heaven was opened and the Holy Spirit came down upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, 'You are my own dear Son. I am pleased with you'" (Lk 3:21-22). After facing Satan's temptations, Jesus "returned to Galilee, and the power of the Holy Spirit was with him" (Lk 4:14). Just before choosing the Twelve Aposdes, Jesus "went up a hill to pray and spent the whole night there praying to God" (Lk 5:12). Through a parable, once again Jesus teaches us to "ask, and you will receive, seek and you will find, knock and the door will be opened to you." Jesus insists that "the Father in heaven [will] give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him" (Lk 5:9 and 13). In a few passages of the Gospels, Jesus actually teaches us about the trinitarian shape of all Christian prayer. He promises that "when the Spirit comes, who reveals the truth about God, he will lead you into all truth. He will not speak on his own authority, but he will speak of what he hears and will tell you of things to come. He will give me glory, because he will take what I say and tell it to you. All that my Father has is mine; that is why I said that the Spirit will take what I give him and tell it to you" (Jn 16:13-15). Again Jesus said to the Aposdes, "The Father will give you whatever you ask of him in my name. Until now you have not asked for anything in my name; ask and you will receive, so that your happiness may be complete." In a passage of John's Gospel, Jesus powerfully reveals his relationship to the Father in the Holy Trinity when he says: "Father, the hour has come. Give glory to your Son, so that the Son may give glory to you. For you gave him author-ity over all humanity, so that he might give eternal life Review for Religious to all those you gave him. And eternal life means to know you, the only true God, and to know Jesus Christ, whom you have sent. I have shown your glory on earth. I have finished the work you gave me to do. Father, give me glory in your presence now, the same glory I had with you before the world was made" On 17:1-5). "I pray for them. I do not pray for the world, but for those you gave me out of the world. They belonged to you and you gave them to me" (Jn 17:9). Building upon the gospel revelation, St. Paul con-tinues to teach us the trinitarian shape of all Christian prayer. In Romans 8:9-11 he says: "You do not live as your human nature tells you to; instead, you live as the Spirit tells you to--if, in fact, God's Spirit lives in you. Whoever does not have the Spirit of Christ does not belong to him. But, if Christ lives in you, the Spirit is life for you, because you have been put right with God, even though your bodies are going to die because of sin." In another passage from Romans, Paul tells us: "Those who are led by God's Spirit are God's sons. For the Spirit that God has given you does not make you slaves and cause you to be afraid; instead the Spirit makes you God's children, and by the Spirit's power we cry out to God, 'Father, my Father!' God's Spirit joins himself to our spirits to declare that we are God's children" (Rm 8:14- 16). Paul rejoices that "neither the world above nor the world below--there is nothing in all creation that will ever be able to separate us from the love of God which is ours through Christ Jesus our Lord" (Rm 8:39). To the Ephesians, Paul insists that we should present everything to God in prayer, "asking for God's help. Pray on every occasion as the Spirit leads" (Ep 6:16-18). Paul exhorts the Philippians "not to worry about anything, but in all your prayers ask God for what 283 67.3 2008 Futrell ¯ Christian Pr.ayer's Trinitarian Shape In the four Gospels,, Jesus teaches us to pray chiefly by modeling prayer rather than by giving lessons. you need, always asking him with a thankful heart" (Ph 14:6). In the four Gospels, Jesus teaches us to pray chiefly by modeling prayer rather than by giving lessons. When asked specifically to teach people to pray, Jesus gives them the Our Father (Mt 6:9-13, Mk 11:25-26, Lk 11:22-24). Luke says, "Jesus told his disciples a parable [the widow and the judge] to teach them that they should always pray and never become discouraged" (Lk 18:1). Through his own example, Jesus shows us impor-tant times to pray. When performing the great miracle of the multiplica-tion of loaves and fishes, Jesus "looked up to heaven and gave thanks to God" (Mt 14:18-19, Mk 6:41, Lk 9:15-17). During his great suffering in the Agony in the Garden, Jesus prayed that God would take away this chalice of pain, but "not my will but yours be done" (Mt 6:36-46, Mk 14:32-40, Lk 22:39-46). Jesus promises that "God will judge in their favor his own people who will cry out to him day and night for help" (Lk 18:9). And Jesus practiced what he preached. He "went to lonely places to pray" (Lk 5:16). He "prayed all night" (Lk 5:12). At the Last Supper when instituting the Eucharist, Jesus "gave thanks to God" (Mr 26:28-30, Mk 14:22-26, Lk 22:14-23). At the Transfiguration, when Jesus shows Peter, James, and John his glory, we are shown the place of Jesus in the Trinity when the Father's voice is heard 284} Review for Religious from heaven saying: "This is my Son whom I have cho-sen. Listen to him" (Lk 9:29-36). Throughout Christian revelation, the three Persons of the Holy Trinity are shown to be one God; this deter-mines the shape of all Christian prayer to God. Through the Gospels we are shown that Christian prayer must be offered through Jesus Christ to the Father and that the very possibility of prayer depends upon openness to the Holy Spirit, who illuminates our spirits and moves us to pray. This is why all Christian prayer has a trinitarian shape, whether the ones praying are conscious of this or not. Personal Reflection / Group Discussion 1. To Whom do I pray when I address prayer to God? 2. How does Scripture affect my way of praying? 3. "The Eucharist models our Christian way of praying." Has this statement been true in my own way of praying? 4. What would I say is distinct about our Christian way of praying from other religious traditions? 285 67.3 2008 PHILIP SHANO Midnight Prayer in the Ignatian Exercises p ercy Bysshe Shelley wrote of "profoundest mid-ight." He sums upwhat many other writers have described--a midnight hour that speaks to us more deeply, more intimately, than the daytime hours. Such an hour can nourish those hungering for God. Thus, "midnight prayer" is a significant part of the dis-cipline St. Ignatius Loyola calls for in the Twentieth Annotation experience of his Spiritual Exercises, when people withdraw for a month from their normal activi-ties and personal relationships. Ignatius says in a note immediately before the additional directions, "The First Exercise will be made at midnight" (SpEx §72). He refers again to the midnight prayer a few other times in the Exercises. He does not spell out why this exercise is so significant. Philip Shano SJ, a Canadian Jesuit who spent twelve years in retreat work at Loyola House in Guelph, Ontario, is novice director and superior at the Jesuit Novitiate; 1035 Summit Avenue; Saint Paul, Minnesota 55105. Review for Religious Many a contemporary director either refuses to recommend this practice to retreatants or is so blas~ in mentioning it that retreatants do not see its value. These directors see it as a pass~ practice, out of place in the contemporary world. Or, worse, they see it as one of Ignatius's recommended penitential practices. It is nei-ther pass~ nor penitential. These directors are depriving retreatants of one of the many helpful practices recom-mended by Ignatius. Along with elements in the Annotations and Additions, Ignatius's point in suggesting midnight prayer is about making the retreatants' environment conducive to the serious and life-changing graces he wants them to receive during the thirty days. The early directories of the Exercises consider midnight prayer important in the daily pattern of the retreat. In a parenthetical com-ment, the official directory of 1599 states the reason for midnight prayer--"a time most helpful for meditation because of its quiet and deep silence." It says, "Those who wish to make the Exercises in full form and who have the strength for it will generally spend five hours each day in meditation: the 1st about midnight (a time most helpful for meditation because of its quiet and deep silence), the 2nd at daybreak, the 3rd a little before dinner, the 4th in the afternoon, and the 5th in the late afternoon.''1 Mealtimes vary from culture to culture, but the point about the quiet and silence of midnight cuts across cultures. Even those who stay up late and would never describe themselves as prayerful know the power of midnight's "quiet and deep silence." It is probably one of the most common times for creative writing. There is something about prayer and reflection in the late night or early morning that fosters the power of the imagination. As Ignatius said, directors should take 287 67.3 2008 Shano ¯ Midnight Prayer in the Ignatian Exercises account of the retreatants' differences of personality and energy. Most of those who make the full Exercises are being called to the life of discipline recommended by Ignatius. Directors, however, can work with them to determine if their sleep needs suggest that they should forgo the interruption that midnight prayer entails. Regrettably, many directors assume that their retreatants will find midnight prayer difficult and so they do not recommend it. One of the most common and misguided assump-tions about midnight prayer during the thirty-day retreat is that the practice is peni-tential. Directors should notice that, if ~ Ignatius connected midnight prayer with penance, he probably would have said something about it in his section on penance (SpEx §§82- 87). He does speak of the importance of sleep (§84), but he says nothing about the times of prayer as a form of penance. The practice of midnight prayer has been dropped by many contemporary directors of the Spiritual Exercises. The assumption that midnight prayer is penitential is not just incorrect; it fosters the contemporary watering-down of the Exercises. It misses one of Ignatius's main aims in his intense experience of the disciplined spiritual life, namely, the constant need to dispose retreatants to receive the graces sought. The Additions and other points in the Exercises stress the There, is something about prayer and reflection' in the late night or,, early morning that fosters ~he power of the imagination. 2,88 Review for Religious importance of the surrounding environment--the place where one has a room, the view from the window, and so on. The hours of prayer, too, can add to the helpful disposition of the retreatants. Many directors who recommend the midnight meditation speak to their retreatants about asking their guardian angel to wake them up about three hours after they fall asleep. Ideally, one does not use an alarm clock or other artificial means of rousing oneself. The idea is that, if it is to be a time when one is disposed for prayer, one will wake up. In the twenty years I have been directing the Spiritual Exercises, my experience has been that very few retreatants find it an unhelpful time to pray. Many may balk at the idea at first, but after trying it most do not dispute its value. Many are motivated by Ignatius's invita-tion to discipline. After the retreat is finished, they may even have a strong urge to continue late-night prayer. In our day a certain political correctness may induce directors to take "the clients' side" to avoid any accusa-tion of too much discipline and mortification. These, however, have a valid place in the spiritual life; it is how people grow. Still, there often is an aversion to dis-ciplines that might be uncomfortable. Directors avoid asking people to spend much time praying about sin, about hell, or about Jesus' passion and death. Midnight prayer has an obvious discomfort, disrupting ordinary sleep patterns. That does not mean that it is a bad thing. Like other things, it requires discernment. Note ' Number [34] (chap. 3, no. 7) of"The Official Directory of 1599" in On Giving the Spiritual Exercises: The Early Jesuit Manuscript Directories and the Official Directory of 1~99, trans, and ed. Martin E. Palmer SJ (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1996), pp. 297-298. 289 67.3 2008 BERNARD J. LEE The Social Matrix of Religious Obedience revisiting religious life 2901 There are three parts to these reflections on the social matrix of obedience in religious life. The first addresses the functions of power in any social group, emphasizes mutuality in deci-sion making, and finds a helpful resource in Bernard M. Loomer's "Two Kinds of Power." The second part addresses the condition of those who feel "outside" of power, looks at how they come "inside," and finds helpful resources in Elizabeth Janeway's book Powers of the Weak. The third part addresses the dynamic in a Judeo-Christian group seeking to promote the reign of God in specit~c communal experi-ences; it finds resources in Gaudium et spes and in Paul Hanson's The People Called: The Growth of Community in the Bible. These reflections are Bernard J. Lee SM is professor of theology and vice pres-ident for mission and identity in St. Mary's University; One Camino Santa Maria; San Antonio, Texas 78228. Review for Religious an elaboration of a short discussion of obedience in my book The Beating of Great Wings: A Worldly Spirituality for Active Apostolic Communities. 1 Before addressing those three areas, I want to name two theological presuppositions that underlie what follows. The first is that all experiences of God are mediated historically and that obedience is one such mediation. We are addressed by God in and through experience. Martin Buber remarked that people won-der why God does not talk much nowadays. He says that too many people expect to hear God above or alongside daily life, and miss the point that, when situ-ation after situation calls us to make decisions that have effects, these situations are in fact the personal speech of God.2 The second presupposition is from Vatican Council II's Lumen gentium §9, that it has pleased God to save us not merely as individuals one by one, but as a people mutually related. Obedience has everything to do with the social matrix of redemption and, in our special case, the life of a religious community. We in religious life are a clear instance of persons mutually related. The Issue of Power Church thought and behavior including these reflec-tions of mine--have always been influenced by the cul-ture at large. In the culture of feudalism, the church's and religious life's sense of themselves reflected that culture. In civil life, there were a few princes and dukes, lords and ladies, and all the rest were subjects and had to obey them. Church authority tended to reflect that structure. Recall the phrase for bishops and cardinals ("princes of the church"), and the terms of address ("Your Excellency" and "Your Eminence"). At ordination the newly ordained 291 67.3 2008 Lee ¯ The Social Matrix of Religious Obedience 292 places his hands between the hands of the bishop and promises obedience to him, not to the reign of God. In religious life the designated community leaders were called superiors, which logically makes community members "inferiors." Higher leaders were and still are sometimes generals. Obedience operated in that frame-work. Titles are an index to a community's social struc-ture. There were incredible leaders in this system in the church and in religious life, but it was still this system. By and large, feudal tendencies were muted in religious life, but they were part of our history. Community members understood themselves somewhat feudally in their relationship with designated community leaders. We are in a different position in Western culture today because of a late-18th-century paradigm shift to a social matrix different from feudalism. But we must remember that more participative approaches to group decision making are really quite new if we consider reli-gious life's long history. In his bicentennial book on the French Revolution, Simon Schama discusses that paradigm shift as an aban-donment of feudal structures, in which most people were subjects, and a desire among people for wider participation in their communal life. He says: "While it was commonplace to recognize that the Revolution gave birth to a new kind of political world, it is less often understood that that world was the product of two irreconcilable interests--the creation of potent states and the creation of a community of free citizens.''3 Mutatis mutandis, these political pulls were felt in the church and in religious life. They are reflected cur-rently, for example, in the matter of episcopal collegi-ality. In parishlife in the United States, about eighty percent of Roman Catholics want a voice in the spending of parish income and in matters pertaining to justice and welfare. Over seventy percent would like to have a voice in the appointment of priests to a parish.4 This is a desire to be ecclesial citizens. Women's orders, by and large, have made significant moves toward the post- Revolution leadership paradigm. Vatican II's attention to episcopal collegiality was also a move in this direc-tion, but there is still a need for wholehearted careful development. With this as background, I am interested in ponder-ing religious obedience as part of the "post-feudal" social dynamics of a religious order's apostolic commitment to the reign of God in human history. The politics of mutual responsibil-ity for the common good would be a briefer statement of the same thing. Because politics has gotten such a questionable repu-tation in our culture, Bernard Crick felt compelled to write a small book (and a fine one), In Defense of Politics.5 We easily forget that Aristotle called politics a virtue in his treatment of the social nature of human beings, in the Nicomachean Ethics, book six.6 And St. Thomas sees politics as a virtue in his tract on prudence, De Prudentia, again as a consequence of our social nature.7 This sense of politics is a good framework for consider-ing religious obedience. The word politics is derived from the Greek word for a city (polis). Politics is how city dwellers--citizens-- We are in a different position in Western culture today because of a late-18th-century paradigm shift to a social matrix different from feudalism. 293 67.3 2008 Lee ¯ The Social Matrix of Religious Obedience 294 construe their life together to best serve their common good. Given the inevitable variety of experiences and perceptions within any group, political astuteness guides the compromises people must make in their collective espousal of the most good for all--this must not be allowed to mean a bland minimum of good. That would be bad politics. Among religious, common good is intimately related to our community's mission and to the social circumstances where we are missioned. Religious obe-dience implies a common quest for the reign of God. Maximizing that quest requires some "political" jockey-ing and compromising. In view of this, I want to reflect of the issue of power. The word power sounds threaten-ing, but it is a neutral term. Power is an issue whenever two or more people are engaged in any social interac-tion. Power is present in dialogue and collaboration. In the reflections that follow, I am especially indebted to Bernard Loomer's lecture on social ethics, "Two Kinds of Power," at the University of Chicago's Divinity School, and to Elizabeth Janeway's book The Powers of the Weak. I am interested in how communities and community leadership at every level obey together the reign of God. This may sound quixotic, but I will give it a try. This approach is limited in scope. It is concerned with obedience's social matrix, and does not touch upon the asceticism that healthy obedience requires, nor upon the prayer life that supports it, nor upon the relation-ship with God that it mediates. In my reflection I have in mind active apostolic religious orders, with mission as a key category. Loomer's "Two Kinds of Power" Bernard Loomer says, first of all, that "the presence Review for Religious of power is manifest whenever two or more people are gathered together and have any kind of relationship," and also that "its deeper and sometimes darker qualities emerge as soon as the omnipresent factor of inequality makes itself felt . The problem of power is the prob-lem of the quality of our lives.''8 I recognize that as true, wherever and whenever, in a group as small as two or as large as a nation. Loomer's major contribution to social thought is his analysis of unilateral power and relational power. The most common under-standing of power in the United States, and not infrequendy in the church, is the unilateral version of it, "the capacity to influ-ence, guide, adjust, manip-ulate, shape, control., to advance one's own pur-poses," and to be affected as little as possible in the process.9 In this pervasive model of power, one person's gain in power is nearly always connected with another's loss of power. The postconciliar Christian heart and mind seek a countercultural alternative to unilateral It takes a strong and secure person to practice relational power, one willing to be influenced by others. power. The exercise of this relational power presumes "the ability both to produce and [to] undergo an effect . . ¯ [for] the capacity to absorb an influence is as truly a mark of power as is the strength involved in exert-ing an influence.''~° One should not try to exert influ-ence without having been influenced by that situation or those persons, in order first to have an appreciative understanding of what one hopes to influence. 67.3 2008 Lee ¯ The Social Matrix of Religious Obedience 296 It takes a strong and secure person to practice rela-tional power, one willing to be influenced by others. We should not try to have effects on any person or event that we do not first understand. If we do understand, it is only because our knowledge arises from our thor-oughly experiencing someone or something "other." There is a profound and respectful mutuality in the exercise of relational power that does not characterize unilateral power. I am suggesting that healthy obedience belongs more fully and redemptively to relational power than to unilateral power. Relational power functions effectively amidst rela-tively secure people, a hard saying for something so important. When reflecting on the implications of a rich life for one who lives relational power, Loomer calls it "S-I-Z-E" and spells it out. He calls it S-I-Z-E because it takes a "big person," a secure human being, to practice it. If I were looking for a good contemporary description of holiness, I would include these thoughts, which are as applicable to a community as to an individual: By S-I-Z-E I mean the stature of your soul, the range and depths of your love, your capacity for relation-ships. I mean the volume of life you can take into your being and still maintain your integrity and indi-viduality. I mean the intensity and variety of outlook you can entertain in the unity of your being without feeling defenseless or insecure. I mean the strength of your spirit to encourage others to become freer in the development of their diversity and uniqueness. I mean the power to sustain more complex and enrich-ing tensions. I mean the magnanimity of concern to provide the conditions that enable others to increase in stature. To me, S-I-Z-E is the fundamental cat-egory. It is the essential principle. Everything else in life is an abstraction from this or a commentary upon it.~ Review for Religious That is the context for relational power. A theological note about the exercise of power is in order. What any religion does is propose the absolute perfection of God. The ways that the Greeks and the Hebrews do it contrast sharply. One who interprets God wearing a Greek hat would say that God is absolutely immutable, cannot change, because perfect being can-not change. If you can be better tomorrow than you are today, you are not perfect. If you can be worse tomor-row than today, you are surely not perfect. If you can simply be different tomorrow than today, you are not now all that you can be. So, in Greek logic, if God is perfect being, God cannot change. God then exercises unilateral power, having effects, but never being truly affected. In his book The Divine Relativity, Charles Hartshorne says: "The politically, and I am confident theologically, sounder principle is this, that he who is most adequately influenced by all may most appropriately exert influence upon all.''~2 Hebrew logic about God reflects something closer to Hartshorne's remark. It claims God's perfection as perfect love rather than perfect being, which implies being profoundly affected by the being of the ones loved. Our love must change because the ones we love change. Perfect love is not immutable, but rather the ultimate instance of relationality, and therefore the most mutable of all beings. I want to say that there is more biblical testimony for a relational understanding of God's power than a unilateral interpretation. God speaks: Sometimes I announce that I shall uproot, break down, and destroy a certain nation or kingdom; should the nation I have threatened.abandon its wick-edness, I then change my mind about the disaster I intended to afflict. Sometimes I announce that I shall build up or plant a certain nation or kingdom, but 297 67.3 2008 Lee ¯ The Social Matrix of Religious Obedience should that nation do what displeases me and refuse to listen to my voice, I then change my mind about the good I had intended. (Jr 18:7-10) One remembers also that Abraham and Moses both bargained with God to change God's mind--not philo-sophical arguments but midrashic intuitions. I am suggesting that obedience is about the exercise of power in a community and that relational power is the appropriate exercise of power. In fact, the English word obedience comes from two Latin words, audire, "to listen," and oh, to be "right in front of" what one is lis-tening to. This is not a minor insight. It is a picture of relational power. In relational power, the "power" is understood as being first of all in the community at large, in the life of the community. Elizabeth Janeway's reflections pertain more to the community's power to shape decisions than to designated leaders' power to shape them. Janeway's "Powers of the Weak" In her book Elizabeth Janeway says: "There is noth-ing inherently 'better' about the weak or 'worse' about the powerful, as human beings. What is 'better' is that a relative balance should exist between the members of a power relationship.''13 She describes three ways that those who in unilateral power situations are outside that power can exert power. The first of these is to announce their disbelief publicly, to call into question another's power to define or name something. It is to say out loud that something else could be the case, and maybe that a better case could be made. "The ordered use of the power to disbelieve, the first power of the weak, begins here, with the refusal to accept the definition of oneself that is put forward by the powerful.''14 Review for Religious The second power of the weak is in coming together, because "when mistrust [disbelief] is solitary, it can react against the doubter . Mistrust needs validation, and that comes from the assurances that one's doubts are realistic and shared by others.''~s The third power of the weak somewhat resembles a union strike or even civil disobedience--whatever its form, it is a public collective voice. Important here are the two words "collective" and "public." Though Elizabeth Janeway's reflections on the pow-ers of the weak may sound extreme, underneath them is the presumption that care for the common good is the duty of the entire community. Leadership and community are both there to serve the common good. The community's percep-tion of the common good needs to be spelled out and deserves to be a shaper of leadership and even an exercise of leadership. Similarly a designated leader's perceptions must be taken seri-ously by the entire community. There is a strong element of mutuality in the social function of obedience, but many social constructions of reality do not recognize this. The wily American composer Charles Ives once remarked that everybody knows more than anybody. I would not push this remark to an extreme, but it surely expresses some trust in collective discernment and wis-dom. On the other hand, one person sometimes has more wisdom than the collective. Leadership and community are both there to serve the common good. 299 The Dialogue between the Word and the World Meticulous discernment of what is needed to imple- 67.3 2008 Lee ¯ The Social 2Vlatrix of Religious Obedience oo] ment the reign of God, and appropriate celebration of what has already been successfully implemented, are both situated in a social matrix. Active apostolic reli-gious orders exist for collaborating with God's inten-tions for human history. This collaboration requires a community's attentive listening to what faith seeks and attentive listening to what specific social situations need or even cry out for. It also requires a careful communal search for the best strategic response, given the actual resources, great-or small, at their disposal. Whatever contributes in any way participates in leadership and invites obedience. In order to follow Mary's advice at Cana to "do whatever he tells you," it helps to remember Martin Buber's reminder that you or I encounter God speak-ing to us personally when our assessment'of events and circumstances demands that we make our decision and take our stand. I would add that often it is we, not just you or I, who must hear and obey what God is telling the bunch of us to conclude and do as a community. The Second Vatican Council stated this clearly: The people of God. labors to decipher the authen-tic signs of God's presen(e and purpose in the hap-penings, needs, and desires in which this people has a part along with other men and women of our age. For faith throws a new light on everything . . . and thus directs the mind to solutions which are fully human. (GS §11) In a similar vein, Paul Hanson describes what he considers to be the dynamics of any community that is called into existence by its Christian faith: Within biblical communities of faith, God's activity in the world was discerned in the interaction between confessional [congregational] heritage and new Review for Religious events. And word and world continue to interrelate in the life of religious communities today. Utmost care must be given to both sides of this two-dimensional exegesis. As much harm can be done by applying an inadequately understood word to a well-understood world as in applying a well-understood word to an inadequately understood world.16 This, I believe, is the context for discernment. If I were preparing a formation program, I would put a high priority on developing skills in social analysis and in hermeneutics (understanding the dynamics of interpret-ing our faith traditions) and al

Issue 66.3 of the Review for Religious, 2007. ; Spiritual Legacy Challenges The Feminine Apostolic Direction QUARTERLY 66.3 2007 Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-633-4610 ¯ Fax: 314-633-4611 E-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, 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. ©2007 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribution, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. ~gournalof Catholic Spiri~uali[y eview for religious Editor Associate Editor Canonical Counsel Scripture Scope Editorial Staff Webmaster Advisory 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 Martin Erspamer OSB Kathleen Hughes RSCJ Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Terry Steib SVD Miriam D. Ukeritis csJ QUARTERLY 66.3 2007 contents prisms 228 Prisms legacy spiritual 230 Christian Mindfulness Ernest E. L~lrkin OCarm shares an understanding of Christian m~ndNlness that integrates this spiritual practice with recollection, the practice of the presence of God, and the sacrament of the present moment. This article is published in a slightly different edited form as chapter eight in Larkin's posthumously published book, Come'i~. plative Prayer.for Tod~y: Christian Meditations, Medio Media, 2007. challenges 248 Clericalism ,and the Religious Life Edward L. Krasevac oP discusses how various entidements that are mar,ks of "clericalism" manifest theinselves in seven different styles of living out the ministerial among male religious who are priests, priesthood Questionfs ,o' rR e felc t i o n is/Dcussion 265 Conversati],'ons on Eucharist Patrick Scan~ Moffett CFC suggests some ways of reviewing the role of ~e daily Eucharist in our lives as we face possible days when there is no Eucharistic celebration accessible. Prayer Review for Religious 276 283 the feminine ~ Mary and the Magnificat Damian C. Ilodigwe proposes that Mary's life challenges us to take seriously the responsibilities that accompany the privilege of being a Christian. Margaret, the Woman of Becchi Leo Hereto SDB relates the story of Margaret Bosco, the mother of John Bosco, and her influence on the beginnings of the Salesian mission. 288 apostolic direction Discernment in Common as Cooperative Inquiry David Coghlan SJ introduces cooperative inquiry as a form of action research that is compatible with the kind of faith activity that discernment is and accords with how discernment in common may be conducted. 302 Early Jesuit Strategies John P. Mossi SJ points out that early Jesuit strategies found in the Spiritual Exercises and Jesuit directives regarding discretion and empathic listening can be helpful in fostering reform and unity today. Questions for Reflection/Discussi0n 316 32O departments Scriptur,e Scope: The Great Journey in Luke's Gospel Canonical Counsel: Sharing Information in Confidential Matters 326 Book Renews 227 66.3 2007 prisms 228 P. rayer is a subject that merits consistent attention by writers in every age. In our own time it probably would take quite a long bibliography to list the titles of books written on prayer in any one year. In this issue of our journal, we feature the last article on prayer written by Father Ernest Larldn OCarm shortly before he died (1922- 2006). The article itself has been published as the eighth and final chapter of his book pub-lished posthumously, Contemplative Prayer for Today: Christian Meditation, Medio Media, 2007. Father Larkin's interest in prayer and his shar-ing of insights and personal experience mark his apostolic ministry of teaching, writing, and con-ducting retreats. Larkin served on our advisory board from 2001 to 2005 when because of health reasons he excused himself a year early from finishing his term. As editor I was especially delighted that he had agreed to serve on the advisory board. Surely he brought the gifts of his Carmelite her-itage, his teaching acumen, and his rich pasto-ral experience. But for me Father Ernest Larkin brought much more. He had been my mentor, along with Father Kieran Kavanaugh OCD, and my dissertation director during my doctorate Review for Religious studies at Catholic University of America. Both of these men initiated this Jesuit into the world of spirituality and mysticism, especially viewed from a Carmelite perspec-tive. I am forever grateful. Because of the intensity of dissertation supervision, Ernie Larkin and I spent a good deal of time together. He was always gracious, he was evidendy holy, and he could be gendy demanding--a most wonderful set of qualities to get a doctorate student to finish his dissertation on time. One example. After reading and research for one semester, I met with Ernie Larkin, who announced that he wanted a first chapter written now in two weeks' time. Weakly I protested that I still had more reading to do. He smiled and said I could read and I could also write. Ever thereafter I was kept to a regular schedule, and I finished within the semester. We always remained friends, though seldom interacting until he accepted my invitation to be a board member. Why would Ernie want to be remembered especially for his interest in and contribution to our lives of prayer? He would simply say that our most important relationship is with God. If a relationship is to develop and deepen, it demands time spent together. Conversation is most important as a way of sharing, but sharing takes many forms, often just being together in rest and in activity. We are talking about prayer, sometimes with words, at other times with still presence. Prayer, our relationship with God, was the center of Ernest Larkin's life. As he often said, "pray and God will ¯come." That is what he shared with us, even in his final book. May he be enjoying his eternal presence with God, the God of his life. ¯David L. Fleming SJ [229 66.3 2007 ERNEST E. LARKIN Christian Mindfulness spiritual legacy 230] Several classic disciplines in traditional Christian spirituality cultivate attentiveness and awareness of God and divine things. They are recollection, the practice of the presence of God, and the sac-rament of the present moment, all venerable exer-cises in the Christian life. Recollection, a concept and practice dear to St. Teresa of Avila, means in her words that "the soul collects its faculties together and enters within itself to be with its God.''1 She goes on to say that the soul is "cen-tered there within itself." Recollection allows one to meet God in the depths of one's being. The practice of the presence of God is cultivating alertness to one of the many ways God is pres-ent and relating to that presence by brief acts of recognition and prayer. The sacrament of the present moment sees each activity in life as an opportunity to meet God. Mindfulness is similar Ernest E. Larkin OCarm wrote on aspiratory prayer for us a year ago. He died shortly after writing the present article. Revieva for Religious to these three practices, but with its own emphasis. As a Christian practice it is a newcomer on the block. Its name and its particular approach come from the East, particularly from Buddhism. Christian mindfulness adds to God's presence special attention to the concrete and finite aspects of each action. The present article examines Christian mindfulness for the light it throws both on Christian Meditation itself and on conduct between the times of formal meditation. Mindfulness is precisely what we endeavor to do in the practice of Christian Meditation, in which saying the mantra is the prayer. In the rest of the day, we~ cultivate mindfulness to make it a prominent feature of our ongo-ing consciousness. The older practices highlight awareness of God's pres-ence and will be a diredt line of communication between the person and God. Here lies a possible limitation, which might be called abstractness. It is too easy for the remembrance of God's presence, especially on the run, to be a mere nod of the mind to a theological truth with minimal resonance in one's being. Mindfulness offers the missing piece, namely, a real presence to what one is doing at a given moment. Mindfulness emphasizes the presence of our total selves in the moment. Actually true recollection demands this too, but the full presence is too easily forgotten. Mindfulness will not let us forget this aspect. So the two disciplines, recollection and mindfulness, together and separately, emphasize full commitment of one's whole being to the moment at hand. They demand the aware-ness of one's self, the actidn, and the God who is there. The shorthand for true recollection and Christian mind-fulness is presence to the moment, a phrase we hope to elucidate in this paper. Presence to the moment is concentrated or focused attention; it means being "all there." Often we are only 66.3 2007 Larkin ¯ Christian Mindfulness Presence to the moment is concentrated or focused attention; it means being "all there." half there, present in body but miles away in thought. John of the Cross alludes to a well-known scholastic adage when he writes that "the soul lives where she loves more than in the body she animates.''2 The schoolboy is already out on the playing field as he impatiendy looks at the clock and waits for it to strike the end of the school day. In mindfulness we are present in love to what we are actually doing. We are present contemplatively, that is, with our whole person-- body, soul, and spirit--and not just with our mind or half-hearted will. We do not act absentmindedly or on automatic pilot. True presence is steady, nondiscursive attention, which at the same time is relaxed and self-possessed. St. Th4r~se of Lisieux is a perfect example of mind-fulness. According to Ida Friederike Gtrres, she "accom-plished the apparently impossible feat of being, every moment, in a state of sharply focused, intensely controlled alertness, and at the same time completely spontaneous in all that she did.''3 Monica Furlong says that Th4r~se gave up fantasies and impossible dreams in favor of living in the present and making her little acts of love and acceptance. "Her 'Little Way,'" she writes, "was, in some curious way, the reversal of everything she had been taught, the inflated form~of Christianity with its dreams of sanctity and mar-tyrdom. Now she saw that all you were asked to do was follow the will of God, whatever it might be, and to give yourself unreservedly to that life and to no other.''4 Thgr~se, according to her novice mistress, was "mys-tic, comic, everything . She could make you weep with Revi~ for tCetigious devotion and just as easily split your sides with laughter during recreation.''5 That is full presence to each chang-ing moment of the day. Hans Urs von Balthasar concurs with these words about Th~r~se: At each moment, her sole concern is to carry out the will of God as it was revealed to her second to second. ¯. Th~r~se never tries to dominate the course of events. In a very womanly fashion, she simply tries to receive everything, and to receive it lovingly. For her, every moment comes so fresh and immediately from the hand of God . [Th~r~se writes:] "I just keep concentrating on the present moment. I forget the past and preserve myself from worries about the future."6 There are also plenty of examples of the opposite of mindfulness. Here is one example from Tilden Edwards from the comic strip Calvin and Hobbes.7 Calvin does not like to relate to real experiences, because they are not clear; they are unpredictable and hard to figure out. He prefers to stay on the outside of things, and that is why he likes life filtered through television. That way he doesn't have to think. He can follow the action with "_,lazed eyes and partial attention. Everything is neat ano tidy, but very superficial. Reducing reality in this way is to take the mystery out of life. It is to fail to be fully present to the moment. Mindlessness is lazy thinking or failure to think at all. It allows one to gloss over things. But if we want to live intentionally with commitment to what we are about, we have to gather up ourselves in recollection and be involved in what we are doing. It is a short step to being in touch with the God hidden in the moment. That is what the Christian practice of recollection and mindful-ness attempt to do. Two entries in Thomas Merton's journals illustrate the contrast between mindfulness and mindlessness. They 66.3 2007 Larkin ¯ Christian Mindfulness occur at the end of the time he was working through an experience of falling in love with a young woman, the nurse who cared for him in the hospital. He registers in detail the emotional roller coaster he was on over a period of several months. Toward the end of the struggle he made this entry, which is an experience of mindfulness: June 15, 1966 . . . This morning for the first time, really since going to the hospital, I have real inner free-dom and solitude--I love M. but in a different way, peacefully and without disturbances or inner tension. I feel that once again I am all here. I have finally returned to my place and to my work, and am beginning once again to be what I am.8 Contrast this presence to himself with the fragmentation a month later, indicating that the struggle to deal with his emotions was not over: July 14, 1966 . . . Noted general dispersion and dis-tractedness all yesterday, obviously [because of being busy on errands in town], and all night. Only recovered a real awake mindfulness after about 3 hours of reading etc. this morning. The other state was of an anxious, disoriented consciousness, not properly centered, and making erratic and desperate acts calling on God, try-ing to recover orientation, thinking of M., questioning self, fearing consequences of imprudence etc.9 Note how Merton tried to regain mindfulness from his distracted mind by reading, reflection, and no doubt prayer. The need is to enter into one's, self; just being busy is a challenge, but often an excuse for many-mindedness or mindlessness. Mindfulness is one form of pondering events in the way Mary does in the Gospels. It is not enough to be amazed as the shepherds were at Bethlehem. We have to ponder them as Mary did and enter into them, seeking understanding, tuning in to the divine presence mani-fested there. We need to listen with a third ear and sit with mystery. Each moment is a revelation, a unique gift Revie~ for Religiou~ from God. We enter it with wonder and gratefulness and with a receptive heart. This is contemplative living; it is living in God's presence and cultivating the moment. Buddhist Mindfulness Mindfulness has an Eastern flavor and is practiced there in various styles of yoga and meditation and martial arts. In its Eastern practice it has a different philosophi-cal foundation and a different goal from the Christian form. But the Buddhist practice is transferable to a Christian setting by the simple but immensely important addition of the presence of - God. In Buddhist mindful-ness the only object is to be totally present to what one is doing. It does not make any reference to God, because Buddhism is non-theistic and has no personal God. The Absolute, the God of the Buddhists, is outside their purview of reality; God is unavailable and totally unknowable, beyond the grasp of the human mind. So Buddhist mindfulness settles for seeking total presence to the moment without distraction or divided attention. We believe that we can learn to be present from this practice, but also to include God in the presence. In this way we are baptizing it for Christian usage. We call it Christian usage. We call it Christian mindfulness. Our standing Christian tradition teaches us to go to God through creation, through the finite and the con-crete. All experience of God is mediated. The East can tell us something we always knew. It can help us see our tradition in a new light and realize how important the finite and the.concrete are in the spiritual life. We find The more down-to-earth i,we are the less we fly off in flights of fancy. 66.3 2007 Larkin ¯ Christian Mindfulness 236 God by going through the human. It is only a manner of speaking for us to say that we get beyond creatures to find God. Our goal is ultimately awareness of the Trinity and participation in life with the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. We attain this goal best by paying attention to the vehicle that brings us there, that is, our created activity. We are helped by being rooted in the existential moment. We are a sacramental people. The more down-to-earth we are, planting our feet squarely on the ground, the less we fly off in flights of fancy and the closer we are to reality and therefore to God. We are an incarnational people, and we believe we find Christ in every crevice of the human condition. Since the incarnation, and espe-cially since the resurrection, Christ is at the center of the universe and part of every human action. Listen to these words of Karl Rahner, who puts them in the mouth of Christ: "I am the blind alleys of all your paths, for when you no longer know how to go any further, then you have reached me, foolish child, though you are not aware to it."~° We find Christ by going through, not around, creation. This is to follow what is called the "analogical imagination" by writers like David Tracy, or the "Catholic imagination" by William E Lynch SJ or Andrew Greeley. Mindfulness helps us reclaim our birthright. The Buddhist teaching on mindfulness can help us see these truths more clearly. A signature example of the Buddhist mode is wash-ing the dishes when you are washing the dishes. It is the quaint trademark ofthe Vietnamese Buddhist, Thich Nhat Hanh, in his book The Miracle of Mindfulness. He writes: While washing the dishes, you might be thinking about the tea afterwards, and so try to get them out of the way as quickly as possible in order to sit and drink tea. But that means you are incapable of living dur- Review for Religious ing the time you are washing the dishes. When you are washing the dishes, washing the dishes must the most important thing in your life. Just as when you are drifiking tea, drinking tea must be the most important thing in your life.ll The inner meaning of the Buddha's teaching on mind-fulness is found in the Sattipatthanda Sutta, and it is summarized in the following words of a Buddhist com-mentator: Mindfulness deepens mental concentration (samatha) in the direction of meditation insight (vipassana). In mind-fulness the disciple dwells in contemplation of the body, feelings, and thoughts. Through being concentrated and mindful of these factors of our life, and by clearly comprehending through insight their true nature, the hate and greed, of sorrow and grief, is overcome and Nibbana [nirvana] is attained,lz Samatha and vipassana describe two different kinds of Buddhist meditation, the former seeking tranquillity and the latter insight.13 Both goals are the fruit of total pres-ence. Listen to Nhat Hanh's description of washing the dishes: "While washing the dishes one should only be washing the dishes, which means that while washing the dishes one should be completely aware of the fact that one is washing the dishes.''~4 The total presence is the heart of meditation in the East. A similar presence, but with the addition of a Trinitarian component, is the goal of Christian Meditation as taught by John Main. When I engage in the practice of Christian Meditation, I do not imagine God or anything else. I simply try to be totally present to my deepest self and to the God who dwells there. To the extent that I am successful, I am giving my full focused attention to my interior being and to the Trinity. I am not thinking about God or about any thing. I am practicing contemplation, that is, I am in communion with the real and the Real. 66.3 2007 Larkin ¯ Christian Mindfulness 238] It is important to know that John Main does not equate contemplation with special psychological experience of God. Contemplation for him is an existential act; it is participation or communion with God. In true mindful-ness I am acting at the level of my being's spirit, and I am truly free and loving. I touch both the reality of God and my own deepest reality. Free and loving presence to the present moment is the essence of mindfulness and meditation. You wash the dishes to wash the dishes, intentionally and with as little distraction as possible, not to impress your neighbor or even to provide clean dishes. These motives are extrane-ous and pertain to the future. You want to stay in the now. To accomplish that you need to be present to yourself. Here is a wise story from Mobi Ho, the translator of The Miracle of Mindfulness. She recalls in the preface an inci-dent when she was cooking furiously and had to stop and search for a missing spoon. She was obviously agitated. Thay came into the room and smiled and said, "What is Mobi looking for?" "The spoon," she answered, perhaps a bit petulandy. Thay answered with another smile: "No, Mobi is looking for Mobi.''15 Why Mindfulness Is Important Our distractions come from our divided and disordered selves. Our desires are the product of our many-minded-ness, and this in turn comes from our lack of integration. Our desires need to be integrated with our whole person and with what we are about at the moment. Our thought needs to be one-pointed and simple, an accomplishment that takes practice,, discipline, and grace. Practice in meditation and in mindfulness will develop the virtues needed and give me a handle on my desires. Perfect mindfulness will neutralize the warring factions within me and let me be absorbed by what I am doing. Review for Religious In this latter case I will have achieved what the psycholo-gists call the deautomatization of my desires. This means that I have neutralized the impulses and desires I do not want. Instead I can concentrate on my true wishes. The unwanted desires dry up and atrophy for lack of nurture.16 From a moral or spiritual point of view I have let my faith inform and animate all my behavior. I have attained true freedom and perfect love. I have achieved what John Cassian called purity of heart. Nhat Hahn celebrates the personal freedom in mind-ful activity in these words: The fact that I am standing there and washing these bowls is wondrous reality. I am being completely myself, following my breath, my presence, and con-scious of my thoughts and actions. There is no way I can be tossed around mindlessly like a bottle slapped here and there on the waves?7 The Christian adds the further element of the good inten-tion and remembering God's presence. I am present to God and receiving the impact of his presence, which is a fact before and after I am aware of it. I do not consti-tute that presence. I am alive with the presence of God. This aspect is not something extraneous and accidental. It belongs to the nature of things, to the immanence of God in all of creation. God's delight is to be with the children of this world, in our sorrow and in our own delights. This presence is for our sakes and our salvation. Christians emphasize the presence of God in all things, but they may tend to forget the envelope that contains it. Persons, actions, events are the medium through which God comes. The given moment is the only place one can meet God. In God there is no time, only the eternal now. God lives in that now moment on the other side of the veil that separates time from eternity. We enter the ves-tibule of that "now" when we concentrate on the present 66.3 2007 Larkin ¯ Christian Mindfulness 240 moment. Our beloved God is there, and it behooves us to be there as well. To enter the now moment is to let anxiety fall off our shoulders and to be renewed in hope by touching the God who loves us. The more that a person possesses herself, the more present she can be. She must be "all there," alert, aware, attentive, in a word, fully present. Intellectualizing or head knowledge is of little value. An abstract recall or thinking about God's presence in the here and now is not enough. The knowledge must be holistic and experiential, beyond mere thinking, beyond mind alone. What we need is heart knowledge. I am more than my thoughts or my mind, and therefore I must not identify with my mind or my ego. In mindfulness we stand before the Lord, "watching and waiting." We do not control the relationship, and we are there to receive a gift. Every moment is a gift from God, and we are aware of that fact. Every moment can be an occasion of contemplation, that is, an opportunity to realize God's love. The contemplative walks in the pres-enceof God in a moment-to-moment experience of God's love. The condition for the gift is to be present there, body, soul, and spirit. Mindfulness fights the enemies of wholeness and culti-vates full presence to God. The enemies of wholeness are what divide us, such as our addictions and compulsions, our unfreedoms and attachments, our sins and imperfec-tions. They undermine our love of God. Mindfulness faces these temptations head on by maintaining attention to the call of faith. We are thoroughly present to the moment because it is God's call for us at that time. Mindfulness recognizes distractions, calls them by name, then lets them pass, all the while gently focusing on the moment. As focused or nondiscursive attention, mindfulness helps us rise above what John Main calls the "monkey chat-ter" of the distracted mind. Mindless persons are unrooted Revie~ for Religio~s and tmcentered, so they tend to flit about from one distrac-tion to another, dissipated in their energies, prisoners of unrecognized consumerism and self-glorification. Mindless persons live outside themselves and engage only the part of themselves that is needed to satisfy the passing whim. They tend to be dilettantes and escapists. They have no depth or solid ground within themselves on which to rest commitments. They are more vulnerable to the winds of change around them and readily given to worry and anxiety simply because they do not realize that "God is near" (Ph 4:5). Excessive "busyness" is lack of mindfulness. Busyness is a cultural demon of our time, an escape or excuse from the hard work of concentration and the duty one is trying to avoid. Busyness is a wolf in sheep's clothing, because it looks like virtue but actu-ally is a whole array of self-interest clustered around pride or self-indulgence. It is an ego trip and the enemy of charity. Look more closely at its manifestations and you will find a driven and com-pulsive spirit that hurts one's health, peace of mind, and awareness of others. Over-busy persons are trying to prove themselves by the sheer quantity of their output. The more they do, the more they feed their self-satisfac-tion, basking in the imagined plaudits of the multitude. There is little charity in this addiction, appearances to the contrary notwithstanding. The motivation in busyness is ego-enhancement, the desire to impress, even to show up the neighbor, Busyness is ersatz zeal. The reason why mindfulness is good and its opposite bad is that one is the expression of the true self and the Our unfreedoms and attachments Undermine our loveof God. 66.3 2007 Larkin * Christian Mindfulness 242 other the offspring of the false self. The true self comes from the deeper strata of our being, from our spirit, and it carries body and psyche with it. Thus it incarnates more of ourselves in its choices than does the splintered false self. The true self acts from the heart and not from self-deception or flee-floating emotions. It acts virtuously because it is rooted in God. Sensibility, our superficial self, is the home of our false self, because ego is at home there and ego goes its own way. The false self is self-serving by nature. It comes out of primitive experiences of life that set in place ways of coping with threats to one's security or self-importance. Our sensi-bility has to be redeemed and put at the service of charity by being ordered and integrated into our lives. Then the ego serves rather than seeks to be served. In these cases the true self has taken over. Wholeness has been restored and the Holy Spirit has become the fountain of living water spring-ing up to eternal life (In 4:14 and Jn 7:3 6-3 7). Mindfulness is a sign that the good spirit is in possession. How Do I Get It? One important final question is the practice: how do I become more mindful? The answer is: cultivate a vibrant spiritual life. Mindfulness is a by-product of mature holi-ness. But are there special means for growing in the prac-tice and skill? How can I become more mindful? I want to suggest two special means. One is meditation itself; the other is the basic condition of all prayer, purity of heart. These are the two arms for embracing God, the pincer movements of the spiritual life. They will bring us to mindfulness. First, mindfulness is the outcome of faithfulness to the two periods of Christian Meditation each day, since medi-tation itself is explicit and prolonged mindfulness. Practice makes perfect; obviously meditation will foster the habit Re~ie~ for Religious of mindfulness. Conventional wisdom says: find God in daily prayer and you will find God everywhere. The Sufi came out of his prayer room and said: I went to the mar-ketplace and found God everywhere. The contrary is also true: without prayer life you will not find God. General mindfulness throughout the day is a diffuse presence to God. How could this be maintained, if it is not nourished by a focused or concentrated presence? How be mindful of God in the comings and goings of the day if one never takes time to meet God face-to-face? We need to focus on the Lord, to come aside and find rest for our souls. Otherwise we will not recognize God when he appears in the disguise of other people or works of charity. The two periods of Christian Meditation come from a long tradition. One of the outstanding teachers of recol-lection, the contemporary and early teacher of Teresa of Avila, Francisco de Osuna, recommended two periods of formal meditation a day, each of them an hour's length. Osuna writes: "You are to retire into your heart and leave all created things for the length of two hours, one hour before and the other after noon, at the most quiet time possible."18 During the rest of the day the mind is to be occupied with lectio divina, the author agreeing with St. Bonaventure that "no one can call himself devoted to the sacred passion unless he spends most of [the day] contem-plating it in one manner or another."19 The two hours a day suggested by Osuna may be beyond the possibilities for many people, and periods of twenty to thirty minutes have proved workable for most people today. The second way to cultivate mindfulness is. purity of heart. It is as important as formal prayer, because the measure of one's purity of heart is the measure of one's prayer. Again this is the constant teaching of the Christian tradition.from John Cassian to Teilhard de Chardin. What is purity of heart? It is detachment, and specifically affec- 66.3 2007 Larkin ¯ Christian Mindfulness Affective detachment comes from effective detachment, tive detachment. This is the freedom of the will before choices. This freedom is cultivated especially by effective detachment, which is the actual renunciation of what-ever stands in the way to one's service of God. Affective detachment comes from effective detachment. In the Western traditon, renundation is the way to recol-lection. Writers like Frandsco de Osuna, Teresa of Avila, and John of the Cross underline the gospel teaching that we must leave all things to follow the Lord. A recent exponent of this age-old tradition is Pope Benedict XVI, who put the teach-ing in fresh language to his interviewer, Peter Seewald, shortly before the death of John Paul 11: "When it comes down to it," Cardinal Ratzinger said, "everyone has to undergo his own Exodus. He not only has to leave the place that nurtured him and become independent, but has to come out of his own reserved self. He must leave himself behind, transcend his own limits; only then will he reach the Promised Land, so to speak,m° Christian teachers generally emphasize the physi-cal renunciation of legitimate goods and pleasures, such as marriage or possessions or worldly honors; they call for the renunciation of all desires. These are refrains in their writing, and modern readers are easily put off by such total demands. But contemporary readers need to be reminded that these classic directives are always in the context of God's will. God's particular will for each person is the controlling factor for renouncing goods. The wholesale rejecton of desires applies to disordered desires. Discernment identfies the immediate will of God, and this is the criterion for choices. 244 Review for Religious The language in this tradition can betray us. Osuna, for example, presents recollection as the way to divine union, and it involves transcending, that is, going beyond all creatures. The person must be "blind, deaf, and dumb to everything that is not God." We need to "guard the heart with all vigilance, unburdening and clearing it of all created things, so that the one who created it may emerge with the life of grace.''2~ The cost of divine union is "not less than everything." The sweeping language might make one think that the whole of creation must be rejected. Not so, these authors tell us. The everything to be by-passed is the all that is in competition or opposed to God. The teaching on recollection attributes the same high efficacy as mindfulness, but also makes the same demands for its functioning. Karl Rahner in an essay on the Holy Eucharist says that recollection demands letting go of all false and harmful things.2z The teaching is founded on the pas-chal mystery, the death and resurrection of the Lord, which is "the innermost law of our lives." Baptism initiates us into this mystery and the Holy Eucharist renews the commit-ment. Eucharistic life, he writes, embraces the total profane life of the Christian, the "everyday" of the followers of Jesus. We die and rise with Jesus Christ, not only at Mass and in Holy Communion, but in our everyday behavior. How can we manage so sublime a calling? Rahner's answer is recol-lection, which he defines as "withdrawing into ourselves" and from there making the right choices at each moment. Withdrawing into ourselves is not copping out or fleeing the scene. It is being our true selves and living intentionally. Get beyond the distractions, turn off the constant radio, stop the "empty talk and gossip," avoid wasting time with worthless reading, and pull back from the "over-busy and all devour-ing fulfillment of one's duty, [from the busyness which is] an excuse for avoiding our real duty."~3 Enter into yourselves, so that you are your true selves. 66.3 2007 Larkin * Christian l~lindfulness 246 Recollection is no flight from life, but "ricing uP to ourselves as we really are, confronting ourselves instead of seeking solace in chatter, conversations, mere external dissipations." Holy Communion commits me to "accept my everyday just as it is. I do not need to have any lofty feelings in my heart to recount . I can lay my everyday before [God] just as it is. in all its pettiness and trivial-ity." z4 Christian recollection is another word for Christan mindfulness, and these two are at the heart of our search for God that comprises the two daily periods of contem-plative prayer that are Christian Meditation. Notes I The Way of Perfection 28.4. 2 Spiritual Canticle B, 5.3. 3 Cited from Ida Friederike G6rres's Hidden Face in John Donohue SJ'S article "Th~r~se of Lisieux, Doctor of the Church," America 177 (13 December 1997): 16. 4 Monica Furlong, Thdr~se of Lisieux (New York: Pantheon Books, 1987), p. 96. s Cited in Donohue, "Th~r~se," p. 16. 6 Hans Urs von Balthasar, Two Sisters in the Spirit: Th~r~se of Lisieux and Elizabeth of the Trinity, trans. Donald Nichols and Ann Elizabeth Englund (San Francisco: Ignatius press, 1992) pp. 66-67. 7 "Valuing the Living Moment," Shalem News, cited in Kinospirit (November 1995): 2. s Learning to Love: The~ournals of Thomas Merton 6, ed. Christine M. Bochen (HarperSanFrancisco, 1997), p. 84. 9 Merton, Learning, p. 95. 10 The Great Church Year: The Best of Karl Rahner's Homilies, Sermons, and Meditations, ed. Albert Raffelt (New York: Crossroad, 1993), p. 51. 11 Thich Nhat Hahn, Miracle of Mindfulness (Boston: Beacon Press, 1987), p. 24. 12 Ven. Dr. Dhammarakkhita, "Mindfulness and Loving-Kindness Meditation," The Gethsemani Encount~ ed. Donald W. Mitchell and James A. Wiseman OSB (New York: Continuum, 1998), pp. 35-41, at 35. 13 William Rehg SJ, "Christian Mindfulness," Studies in the Spirituality of Jesuits 34, no. 3 (May 2002): 1-9. Review for Religious 14 Rehg, "Christian." is Rehg, "Christian." t6 Philip Novak, "The Practice of Attention," Parabola 15 (May 1990): 10-12; Arthur J. Deikman, "Deautomatization and the Mystic Experience," Psychiatry 29 (1966): 324-338. ~7 Thich Nhat Hahn, Miracle, p. 4. ~s Francisco de Osuna, The Third Spiritual Alphabet, trans. Mary E. Giles (New York: Paulist Press, 1981), p. 388. ~90suna, Third, p. 177. 20 Paul Elie, "The Year 0fTwo Popes," Atlantic Monthly 297 (January- February 2006): 71. 2, Osuna, Third, p. 132. 22 Karl Rahner, "The Eucharist and Our Daily Lives," Theological Investigations 7, trans. David Bourke (New York: Herder and Herder, 1971), pp. 211-226. 23 Rahner, "Eucharist," p. 221. 24 Rahner, "Eucharist," p. 222. Metronome Fingers nimbly running up down over ebony and ivory Unfolding medleys of joy mourning glory Euphoric allegro highs., soaring Plummeting . soulful adagio lows Soothing largo interludes inviting Carefree scherzo playfulness., dancing With rhythmic rhapsodic blues Tapping to the tempo Of happy-go-lucky whim or deep contemplation A symphonic score of a life grace-fully written Melodically enjoyed harmonically played Ticking to a metronome's beating heart. Walter Bunofsky SVD 66.3 2007 EDWARD KRASEVAC Clericalism and the Religious Life challenges Many descriptions and definitions of clericalism have been suggested since the Second Vatican Council, and a number of them seem to have this characteristic: a sense of entitlement,1 as if the priesthood were something other than a ministry of loving service in imitation of Christ or as if its center of gravity were in something other than such service. Indeed, I understand clericalism largely if not exclusively as a spu-rious entitlement, an entitlement to privileges that do not stem from the following of Christ in his ministry of service, but rather from prosaic aspects of human nature.2 Clericalism has often been understood with reference to secular or diocesan pastors and their relation to the people under their pastoral care, 248 Edward L. Krasevac OP is professor of theology at the Dominican School of Philosophy and Theology at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, California. In 1987 he wrote for us about Eckhart and John of the Cross and in 2002 about the relation of temperaments to lib-eral/ conservative stances. His address is 2301 Vine Street; Berkeley, California 94708. ekrasevac@dspt.edu Review for Religious to their peers and bishop, and to the structures of the diocese and church, rather than with reference to reli-gious priests, who usually live a quite different style of priesthood, one heavily influenced by the structures and charisms of their religious institute. But I surmise that clericalism is alive and well among religious priests also, although it is heavily colored--and often camouflaged-- by the dynamics of religious life) Clericalism is not the only source for the entidements I will describe below, but I think it is often operative in the seven styles of being a religious priest that I will describe. Each of these styles manifests habits that undermine the service character of the priesthood. The types are not exclusive, and some of us bear characteristics of more than one in our lives as priests. In what follows I hope to stir up self-knowledge among religious priests so that our priesthood may not easily become something other than it was meant to be. In reflecting unwarranted entidements, the various types appear "negative," but positive elements appear in them, too. I will take note of these in the hope of showing that at least some of the types are legitimate ways of being a religious priest. The Ambitious Priest The "ambitious priest" loves the possession or exercise of authority, with the accompanying prestige and perqui-sites. Some priests seek the simple possession of author-ity (in the congregation as a superior or in the church as a bishop); other priests seek not only the possession of authority but also its exercise. The religious priests who are ambitious only for the possession of authority often lack the drive and discipline to exercise it effectively; they are content with the prestige and perks of office. Their ambition may stem from a desire not to have to obey others or from their own insecurities. These priests are t249 66.3 2007 Krasevac ¯ Clericalism and the Religious Life Ambitious p iests are usually committed,to values of collaboration, consultation, or collegiality in! the exercise of authori usually not energized by authority itself. It is not author-ity itself that draws them, but rather the accoutrements of authority. Their possession of authority does not make them dangerous--they generally do not hurt others or the common good by their exercise of it--but, negatively, their office is not used for the good of their brethren and those the congregation serves. Other ambitious priests seek authority precisely in order to exercise it, and are often energetic and talented (they may, of course, also be interested in the prestige and perks of office). There are many reasons for this type of ambition: a need to control others, a desire to redress per-ceived injuries done to them by their brethren, the imposition of their own deeply felt values on others (in cases where more collegial methods of persuasion have failed), or sim-ply the exercise of power for its own sake. Ambition in these cases is usually ambition for author-ity as power over others in contrast to authority as service to others. And so ambitious priests, in either of the senses just described, are usually not committed to values of col-laboration, consultation, or collegiality in the exercise of authority,4 but tend to understand it as a personal privi-lege that should be possessed and exercised according to their own best lights and interests. Ambitious priests can have two quite different rela-tionships to ministry. In some cases they are not much involved in ministry at all, at least not very effectively, Review for Religious because they always have their eyes on "what's next," the further rung of the ladder (which requires, among other things, lots of time and energy given to internal politics). Those they serve often feel that they are only half listen-ing or responding, because their heart is elsewhere. In other cases ambitious priests throw themselves into min-istry because they know that a crowded rdsum6 can bring advancement sooner. But this success assumes effective- . ness that can be measured quantitatively, such as financial or building success. Nonetheless, ambitious priests in the second sense are often disciplined and hardworking and can appear outstanding in ministry. The entitlement operative here is for authority as power over others: a priest deserves to exercise authority and receive obedience, even if that authority and obedi-ence are not direcdy exercised in the service of his breth-ren or those whom he serves in ministry.5 Although ambition for authority as power over others is a false entidement of clericalism, ambition for author-ity as service to others may well be warranted, taking the form of actively seeking office or accepting it when prof-fered even against one's desires. Since holding office in the church these days is more often a burden than a blessing, the church needs those with the talent, motivation, and ¯ generosity for service to step forward. But, since ambition for power can be present under the mande of ambition for service, strict personal honesty is crucial. For this, dia-logue with others is essential to discerning Whether I wish to serve others in seeking or accepting a particular office, or rather wish to serve myself. Part of this discernment might be to ask myself whether I am willing to forgo perquisites of office that are not necessary for its effective exercise, or am willing to step aside if a more appropriate candidate emerges. Ambition for authority in the church requires, it seems to me, that people go through such 66.3 2007 Krasevac * Clericalis~n and the Religious Life a searching and often painful purification before being allowed to have authority in our lives. The gentleman priest is usually not bossy, and may be quite humble in his relations with others. The Gendeman Priest or Priest of Leisure As the ambitious priest loves the possession or the exercise of power, the "gendeman priest" loves the good life in at least some of its forms. Fine restaurants, the opera or symphony, the art museum, a rich social life among those who are well educated and well-off are often characteristic of this style of being a priest, as is a penchant for travel to culturally rich destina-tions. It is also impor-tant, when the gentleman priest is at home, that the table be a good one and there be enough employ-ees (or other religious) in the house to serve his needs in a style that might recall servants of old. Ministry is important to such a priest, but usually is carefully controlled so as not to interfere with the gentleman priest's other pursuits. He does not consider the real possibility of "breaking a sweat" in the Lord's vineyard, and the ministry of service is often seen as a distraction from more important callings. Comfort is important to the gentleman priest, and a decent cash flow is obviously required; poverty is not the queen of his vows. As in all forms of clericalism, a strong sense of entitlement is operative in the gentleman priest, an entidement not so much for authority as for a lifestyle that befits his education and tastes and, needless to say, his understanding of the priesthood. ¯ On the plus side, the gentleman priest is usually not very bossy, and may be quite humble in his relations with Review for Religious others.6 He is often a pleasant fellow, gracious and gener-ous to others in spontaneous and endearing ways. He is generally a person whom it is hard to dislike, and can be a delight in community (when he's there). The gende-man priest is, after all, a gendeman, one who is sensitive to other people, thoughtful, polite, well mannered. He treats others well and brings to religious life and ministry the values of culture and respect for others. And because, in the familial atmosphere of religious life just as in the domestic family, the familiar and familial may conceal or seem to excuse insensitivity to others in word and action, the formality that the gentleman priest brings--an infu-sion of genuine courtesy to and respect for others--can be a boon for both our communities and our ministries. The Gossiping Priest We religious talk a lot to each other, and a lot about each other, and about those whom we serve. This is a normal and essential part of the familial in our communal life. We should be interested in what our brothers are doing, in their ups and downs, in the joys and sorrows and accomplishments and failures of their lives. It is only when we have such knowledge that we can respond fra-ternally to them in their needs, and sometimes get some comic relief as we laugh at their foibles. Conversation and the knowledge of each other that flows from it are essential to the common good of our congregation and to the good of the individuals within it. The "gossiping priest" also loves to converse, but for very different reasons, sometimes having to do with "inno-cent curiosity," sometimes from less charitable motives (knowledge can hurt others as well as help them). Even in the case of curiosity, however, much damage can be done both to other individuals and to the common life by such conversation. Information may come to light and 66.3 2007 Kra~e~ac ¯ Clericalism and the Religiou~ Life damage or destroy a brother's good name by the very fact that it does come to light. Violations of privacy can often result from the need to know what everyone else is doing, and why; great amounts of energy can be expended in creating and maintaining elaborate networks of commu-nication, energy that could better be focused elsewhere; such networks can easily lead to an exclusivity in the com-munity that direcdy damages the common life; and the effectiveness of superiors who are trying to deal charitably and jusdy with complex personal problems of the breth-ren can be compromised by such a "need to know." In other words, "innocent curiosity" may have anything but innocent effects, and the gossiping priest (whose life is largely based on knowing and conversing about the lives of others) is too often not honest with himself concerning the reasons for and the effects of his gossip. In addition, the possibility that the confidentiality of privileged con-versations-- say, that of chapters--may be broken in the course of gossiping has a chilling effect on the freedom of a community to deal effectively with its legitimate but sensitive concerns. The entidement here is for knowledge of other peo-ple's doings, usually for the very sake of that knowledge. A priest, after all, is almost by definition one to whom secrets are communicated, one who is supposed to be privy to matters of conscience. The devastation that can be caused by the gossiping priest is in direct relation to those weighty privileges which are abused by the false entitlements of clericalism.7 More positively, in most cases the gossiping priest's life is centered on the concerns of his community, whether at the local or regional level, as on his family--and this is a good thing. In a time when the pressures are great which lead to detachment from the community and to "private life," the gossiping priest witnesses in his own Review for Relig~o~,~ way to the value and importance of our life together in the community, for the community is the major concern of his interests and his conversation. Once purged of its negative effects, the conversations of the formerly gos-siping priest can become genuinely community building and enhancing. The, Romantic Priest This manifestation of clericalism in the religious priest normally applies to those whose experience of the church is postconciliar, because the "romantic priest" is largely driven by nostalgia for the past--for what he did not per-sonally experience, but has read about and longs for. The romantic priest is not usually concerned with matters of doctrine or even authority (and thus is not necessarily a legalist); rather, he is more concerned with matters of dress, style of liturgy, the particular traditions and prac-tices of his congregation, the dignity of his priesthood, aesthetic matters, and certain (traditional and sometimes dying) devotions. He is often genuinely pious, one who is committed to his vows and the way of life that they entail. But the romantic priest loves to play a role which is largely defined by these kinds of things, and above all by the past. The complexities of contemporary life in the church and world hold little interest for him, as do the complexities of most ministries; his world and his inter-ests lie elsewhere. The entidement here is for the power to define the priesthood idiosyncratically, that is, in relation to his per-sonal interests rather than in relation to the following of Christ and the needs and interests of those whom he serves in ministry along with the needs of his brothers and sisters in religious life. The romantic priest is preoccupied with the dignity of his priesthood and tends to impose his romantic view of the church, the priesthood, and the fol- 66.3 2007 I&asevac ¯ Clericalism and the Religious Life lowing of Christ on others, both those whom he serves in ministry and those with whom he lives in community. The romantic priest brings to his community and to the church important values of Catholic culture that many people today miss; he brings a strong sense of tradition and its place in Catholic life. Grounded in something other than the contemporary and the rapidly changing, the romantic priest's rootedness in the genuine values of the past assures that he will not be enamored of every new fad in liturgy or ministry; he sees the present from the perspective of the past, because of his lively sense of the past, and can be an important witness to contemporary Catholic culture, if he does it with balance and without the entidements of clericalism. The Narrowly Focused or Dependent Priest On the face of it, the "narrowly focused priest" is a good priest indeed (much like the romantic priest). He is often quite dedicated, disciplined, prayerful, obedient, and in some (perhaps narrow) senses responsible and chari-table. He does everything that is explicidy asked of him in community and in ministry: he does what he is told, follows the rules, and is thus seen as a responsible priest, even a fine one. One of the roles he does not normally fill is to take the initiative either in ministry or community life. Others-- usually religious superiors (whom he scrupulously obeys) and statutes of his congregation--set the parameters for what is required of him. To deal with the inevitable and complex problems that arise in ministry and in the life of his community is not his calling; this is what supe-riors are for. The problems of community life in par-ticular-- at both the local and provincial levels--are their concern, not his. Further, the narrowly focused priest is often afraid to acknowledge the existence of problems Review for Religious within the ministry or community, because he might then feel the obligation to face them. Hence he may be naive about people in general and naive in choosing those who will bear the authority in his community. Much like the romantic priest, the dependent priest shies away from the complexities of real life, but rather chooses to live in a different world defined by his explicidy spelled-out obli-gations; he is content to bury his head in the sand and let others face the difficult challenges of the ministry and the common life. In both cases there is a kind of escapism to ideal worlds. Although incorporating many of the genuine values of the priesthood and religious life, the dependent priest is a burden on his community precisely insofar as he "leaves it to others," thereby escaping his own responsibility for the common good. Superiors of dependent priests appear "burned out" because they are left to deal with the dif-ficult and often intractable problems of their communities without concrete help or support. Their congregations can be severely damaged by the na'fvet6 that elects incom-petent or otherwise unworthy superiors because depen-dent priests prefer to remain uncritical regarding the real needs of their community and the character and ability of those whom they elect. Entitlement here is for the privilege to define one's obligations as priests and religious in the narrowest of terms, terms which, require litde personal responsibility, litde stress, litde compromise of one's ideals of an essen-tially trouble-free and straightforward ministry and com-munity life. The narrowly focused priest is very close to being a fine priest. He is not normally ambitious, nor a gossip, nor embittered, nor a legalist; rather, he is often humble and obedient, and loath to meddle in the affairs, of others. He generally prizes the "regular life," and lives that life 66.3 2007 Kras~ac ¯ Clericalis~n and the Religious L~fe in a disciplined and balanced way. He is, in a word, com-fortable in his role as a religious priest, largely identifying with it. And he serves both his community and those in his ministry in predictable and necessary ways. Perhaps the key to understanding and overcoming the dependent priest's perceived entidements is in recognizing that "not being of the world" as a priest and religious does not exempt one from having to deal with many of the problems of the world that nevertheless appear in com-munity life and in ministry. These problems cannot be ignored, nor quarantined to be dealt with by others. They are often very real and must be engaged as they arise, even if such engagement cause ruptures in the carefully worked-out and much respected routines of the narrowly focused priest. The Enforcer Priest One of the roles of the ministerial priesthood is to render judgment on people and their acts in the light of the gospel and the church's teaching and with a view to their repentance and salvation. The "enforcer priest" takes this role seriously and is constantly concerned that the misdeeds of others (both the laity and his own brethren) be corrected. Since he rarely if ever takes time off from this mission, his presence is generally felt to be a burden by those around him; he is rarely challenged, however, as his very presence is usually intimidating. Although judgment is a necessary aspect of the priesdy role, the enforcer priest seems preoccupied with it (and often with the punishment that should follow) to the extent that he forgets its end: human salvation. This can happen when judgment is isolated from or allowed to dominate mercy, when the enforcer priest lacks self-knowledge of his own need for mercy, when the ambiguity of all human actions in the external forum is forgotten, when prudence Review for Religious fails to suggest that a particular intervention may be inef-fective or even counterproductive regarding the person's overall good, or when he assumes an almost infallible ability to interpret the law (moral, canonical, liturgical) and its application to a particular situation,s The enforcer priest may be preoccupied with error and judgmentEboth in what people think (orthodoxy) and what they do (orthopraxis) for - a number of rea-sons. He may be threatened by the actions and beliefs of others to the extent that they are perceived to call into question his ° own (perhaps frag-ile) values, beliefs, and lifestyle. He may be emotion-ally unable to live with diversity, ambiguity, and the lack of psychological certitude. He may have fears of ecclesial anarchy if laws are not swiftly and effectively enforced. The entidement here is the ~resumption that a priest may speak for Christ and the church without mercy, with-out prudence, without the nuance that comes from expe-rience and compassion, that he may apply the letter of the law without regard to its purpose, and that (in some cases, at least) he may judge others without first judging himself with rigorous honesty. On a more positive note, fraternal correction is a gos-pel imperative and a crucial need in most religious com-munities (and, of course, in the church at large). We are Alfhough judgment is a necessary a~pect of t~ prestly role, the enforcer priest seems preoccupied with it to the extent that he forgets its end: human salvation. 66.3 2007 260 responsible for one another's well-being in all its aspects. But fraternal correction--if undertaken prudendy, effec-tively, and in a true gospel spirit--is also a particularly difficult task. One who corrects one's brother or sister risks anger, alienation, and the loss of friends. It is much easier to ignore the true needs of one another and to just get along with them peacefully. Real courage is necessary to practice fraternal correction, which sometimes compels us to confront those who need confronting for their good and for the common good. The enforcer priest can show us the way to this responsibility, provided that the cleri-cal entitlements associated with this style of priesthood are held in check. The enforcer priest must learn not to undertake fraternal correction according to his own likes or dislikes, desires, insecurities, preferences, or ideologies, but rather for the sake of the other's true and necessary good, or that of the community, and without intent to embarrass or punish. The Embittered Priest The "embittered priest" has been deeply hurt by cer-tain experiences in ministry or in the life of his religious community (usually the latter) and has tenderly nourished that hurt for a number of years. Perhaps he was slighted by notable others (whether in authority or.not), perhaps never given the responsibility in ministry or community that he thought he deserved, perhaps denied a second term as superior, or perhaps he has just never received the respect from others that he thinks he deserves. As a result, the embittered priest has largely disen-gaged himself from both ministry and community life. He "deserved better" in his many years of priesthood and has now "opted out" of the life that has treated him so poorly. Often older, and sometimes suffering from illness (including alcoholism), the embittered priest is unhappy Review for Religious himself and cannot but make those around him--who are often the ones taking care of him--unhappy also. He sees his clerical entidement as coming from the very fact that he is a priest and religious, rather than from his achievements, character, or talents. He feels this enti-dement so deeply that without it he must withdraw from his basic responsibilities as a priest and religious (although he still feels entided to the rights that his canonical status entails). The life and experiences of the embittered priest point to the reality that we do hurt each other in religious life and that the wounds we inflict can be lasting. We all have different tolerances for being hurt, and we need to be sen-sitive to the harm we can do to others less resilient than ourselves. In addition, the continuing presence of these men in our lives calls us to care for them in their distress even when they neither want nor appreciate our help, but need it. They call us to be Christ in ways that we might not otherwise be. Ideals and Compromises Our following of Christ and our loving ministry in imitation of him in the particular way characterizes the ministerial priesthood is a high ideal, one difficult to achieve and always at risk of compromise. The com-promises we sometimes make may simply stem from our manifold weaknesses and lack of love and then be rec-ognized, repented of, and borne in stride as we take up pursuit of the ideal once again. But our compromises may also stem from our conceptions of the priesthood itself and hence may be more difficult to recognize and repent of. These compromises stem from the ideologies of cleri-calism, 9 ideologies that affect the exercise of the priest-hood of Christ in particularly invidious ways. It is only by recognizing the clerical compromises in the ways we live 66.3 2007 Krasevac * Clericalism and the Religious Life 262] our priesthood in our religious communities that we can begin to address them)° Notes i It is interesting that a sense of entidement is a classic character-istic of all forms of narcissism. 2 How do these entidements arise from clericalism? Perhaps par-tially from an exaggeration and ideologizing of the sacramental differ-ence that holds between the ministerial priesthood and the priesthood of all the baptized, perhaps because priests who have "given up all" for the sake of the kingdom come to believe that they "deserve" some-thing by way of entidement in return, perhaps because the structure of secular society with its manifold entidements has unduly influenced the life of the church 3 Dynamics such as the manifold forms of governance in religious institutes; those institutes' often rich cultural heritages and particular liturgical, doctrinal, and aesthetic traditions; the familial contexts of most forms of religious life, with many religious living closely with each other for many years; and the educational and cultural possibilities generally available to religious priests, and also their mobility. 4 The roots of the word "authority" have to do with "causing to grow." This has obvious meaning for parents' authority over their chil-dren, but it also adds depth to the idea of authority as service; supe-riors and bishops bear a special responsibility to deepen the faith and the personal development of those over whom they have been given authority. 5 The desire for power that stems from clerical entidement may take a different form in religious priests who do not seek authority for themselves, but for those whom they will be able to control. Generally intelligent and shrewd, they care little for the prestige or perks of office, but seek control of those in office, perhaps because they believe that such power is a right of their intelligence and farsightedness. Often this ambi-tion stems from a fear that their brethren will not "get it right" through the normal democratic processes of deliberation and election, or from a fear that if their enemies were elected they would be vulnerable to their attacks. This ambition can also stem from their unwillingness to accept public accountability for their positions and actions. The dynamics of entitlement, however, are essentially the same in all cases of ambition-- entitlement for power over others rather than in service of others. 6 A variation of the priest of leisure is the "hobbyist priest," who loves, not so much the good life of culture, but other aspects of the good life, such as a fascination with computers or a preoccupation with Revie~v for Religious domestic concerns. Hours, days, even weeks can be spent on equiva-lents, with little attention given to traditional responsibilities of the priesthood. Here the hobby provides not a well-deserved respite from priesdy work, but a substitute for it. The entidement issues are essen-tially the same: the priesthood "deserves" (if not requires) a life of leisure, the time and resources to pursue their interests largely unfet-tered by the ministry. 7 One further negative dynamic often present in the lives of gos-siping priests is that they become friends with others who have similar habits of gossiping. Their friendship is not about something good that can lead to their growth as human beings and as religious and priests, but about something that can compromise their friendship at its core and impede their growth in goodness. 8 Unlike the romantic priest, the enforcer priest usually is a "legal-ist," that is, one who is so preoccupied with the letter of the law that he forgets the end to which the law is ordered (ultimately the realization of the good of human salvation) or sees it to be of secondary importance. A certain .myopia prevents the enforcer priest from understanding the relation of means to end, the relative nature of the former to the latter. The enforcer priest and the romantic priest usually believe that oth-ers should live according to the values they think important (values of right belief and conduct / romantic, values). One difference is that the romantic priest is usually not inclined to impose his values on others and is content to live according to them himself and to persuade others of their merit in more subde ways. 9 Ideologies are "views that serve to rationalize the vested interests of some group." "The ideology both justifies what is done by the group whose vested interest is served and interprets social reality in such a way that the justification is made plausible." Peter Berger, An Invitation to Sodology: A Humanistic Perspective (New York: Penguin Books, 1963), pp. 54 and 130. ~0 As mentioned above, a sense of entidement is a classic character-istic of all forms of narcissism (both individual and group), and hence one may expect that narcissistic attitudes will be part and parcel of the phenomenon of clericalism. This is displayed most clearly in those cases where the priesthood is understood as being primarily about the self rather than about Christ and service to others. In these cases the priesthood is seen to be primarily about me and hence is "defined" in terms of my needs and my desires, rather than the needs and desires of those I have been called to serve. In both the gendeman priest and the gossiping priest, there is often a fascination with things "churchy," that is, with the accidentals or outward trappings of church life; this may be true of the romantic 263 66.3 2007 Krusevac * Clericalism and the Religious Life and enforcer priests as well. This concern with "churchiness" may be an enduring aspect of clericalism and is probably bound up with the narcissism that is characteristic of clericalism--focus on the self in its more superficial aspects. Questions for Reflection]Discussion Whether I am a priest or someone exercising ministry in the service of the church, do I find myself described in one or other of the categories proposed by Krasevac? How would I want to add to Or negate some of the qualities? What other major catergories would I want to identify? Do people see a kind of "clericalism" in religious life as lived by both women and men? What forms does this "clericalism" take in religious life? How might we live differently if we religious were to be free of such a designation? 264 Review for Religious PATRICK SEAN MOFFETT Conversations on Eucharist T~Eucharist in its entirety, inclusiveness, and uni-sality is an integral engagement of the worshiping Body of Christ. It constitutes the singular act, par excel-lence, of the believing community. The lay people, priests, and religious of the Roman Catholic Church understand the Eucharist to be the source and summit of the spiritual life (LG §11, Catechism §1324). The Eucharist, and for many centuries the daily Eucharist, has provided aspirants to holiness with sustenance, moral instruction, corporate bonding, and strengthening of belief. No Mass today? On days when there is no Eucharistic celebration accessible, daily communicants might welcome, alone or with others, spiritual engagements that include some of these elements: word and act, thanks and praise, offer-ing and communion. Should such days multiply, daily communicants may need to revisit the grounding of our spirituality. Patrick Scan Moffett CFC wrote for us in 1984 and 2001. He may be addressed at Christian Brothers; 4949 N.E. 2nd Avenue; Miami, Florida 33137. 66.3 2007 ~loffett ¯ on~er~atiom on Eucharist 266, As we extrapolate current trends in priesdy vocations and the growth of the people of God, we perhaps see a time when Eucharist as we know it today will not be readily accessible to much of the church. Some feel called upon to anticipate such an eventuality by reducing the frequency of their own participation in Eucharist. For some formation directors, that decision is extended to those whom they prepare for future service to the church. Others prefer to engage fully in what is currendy avail-able, trustful that either the trends will change or that they will be blessed with the strength to confront such challenges if and when they occur. Age will be a factor in deciding for oneself. Older men and women might see no need to alter a way of life that can safely carry them through their remaining years. Deciding for others calls for serious discernment. No matter which strategy is chosen, we will do well to review the role of daily Eucharist in the spiritualities that have helped to shape .our lives and those of our dis-tant and more recent ancestors. Theologians, canonists, spiritual writers, and spiritual directors have much to contribute to a reexamination of theories and praxes of Eucharistic spiritualities. Conversations on Eucharist, such as those referred to in what follows, could be useful starting points. For purposes of this article and from the perspective of a psychologist, I will offer some preliminary samplings of the interface of Eucharist and the ongoing processes of belonging and self-definition. Varying perspectives will suggest what might need to be considered before defining new paths to holiness. The Eucharist in the lives of daily communicants Recently I have been inviting some daily communi-cants to engage in extended conversation about the place Review for Religious of Eucharist in their lives. The questions I ask and my understanding of responses they evoke are surely con-ditioned by my experience as a religious and as a psy-chologist. What I recognize as themes of agency, identity, relationships, belonging, and development have deeper and richer meaning both for those who are speaking of their insights and for their listeners, who bring their own experiential and intellectual perspectives. The selection of participants is by no means a random sample. Preliminary conversation has indicated that they have been daily commu-nicants for a significant '~ part of their lives and that they are comfortable in sharing their thoughts and feelings. Those who welcome the invitation need little prompting. They readily attest to the ~ centrality of the Eucharist with respect to most of the other engagements of their day. They describe the Mass as bringing together the sacred and the mundane, the joys and the struggles, the fears and the hopes, the hurts and the healing that shape their day. As the initial response concludes, I ask if any moments in the ritual have particular significance for them or bring together what they have just described. Some respond immediately, others pause and then report resistance to singling out any part of the entire experience. One religious, responding to my probing on such aspects of special focus during the Mass, identified the moment of Communion and what he saw as the "all too brief time after Communion." He went on to note that his ordained friends, on the other hand, tend to place the i ask ifany moments " in the ritual have particular significance for them. 267 66.3 2007 Moffett ¯ Conversations on Eucharist 268 emphasis on the Consecration or the Invocation of the Spirit over the gifts. I ask myself and.others: Who are the protagonists in this sacred event? We begin in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. How is the Trinity experienced? Who is With me at Eucharist? Who else is present :around the altar, in the pews, dispersed about the earth, or in the heavens? Who comes from afar, or from long ago? Who of my sisters and brothers, family, friends, neighbors, coworkers, acquaintances are especially present to me during the Mass? Whom do I make present with my thoughts, memories, and prayers? I understand that part of my role is to gather guests from the highways and the alleys. All are welcome. The Master seeks a full house for the sharing of the banquet. Levels of belonging Belonging, as an action and as a consequence of group engagement, contributes to the identification of both the individual and the group. Each member has a creative role in the formation of both the "I" and the "we." Eucharist ritualizes and celebrates who we are as a people and who we are becoming. Observers of human development chart stages of growth. Infancy, childhood, pubescence, adolescence, and young adulthood are seen as steps toward full maturity. So too in groups there are successive levels of belong-ing.~ Members move from acceptance to participation, from participation to engagement, and eventually from engagement to proprietorship. Individuals understand themselves increasingly in terms of the group. Eucharist provides a forum for affirming membership. I have been accepted into the people of God. I am a Catholic. I do what Catholics do. I believe. My engagement in the lives Review for Religious of my brothers and sisters in the church expresses the essence of who I am and who we are. We are the Body of Christ. While there might be a sense in which we "make belief," Pope Benedict XVI has urged caution: Here I think it is very important to stress one essential point: no one believes purely on his own. We always believe in and with the church. The creed is always a shared act: it means letting ourselves be incorpo-rated into a communion of progress, life, words, and thought. ¯. We must let ourselves fall, so to speak, into the communion of faith, of the church. Believing is in itself a Catholic act. It is participation in this great certainty, which is present in the church as a living subject. ¯ . . Day after day we must deepen our communion " with the holy church and thus with the Word of God . Only when we are united in the church do we belong to the church, do we become members of the church, do we live by the word of God which is the life-giving force of the church. And those who live by the word of God can only live it because it is alive and vital in the living church) Identity Those schooled in scholastic philosophy might recall the struggles around the principle of individuation. Prime matter, the amorphous "substance" common to all being, affords no differentiation as such. Form (anima) serves to distinguish between levels of being, but is common to all members of the same stratum of being. To arrive at differentiation, attention is directed to the baecceitas, the "thisness" of a particular being. Form is imposed on the universal matter in the here and now (see Th.Aq., De Veritate 2.6-7). The action yields an individual being. What might also be attributed to the seemingly infinite possibilities of constellations of DNA is explained as deriv- 269 66.3 2007 Moffett * Conversations on Eucharist ing its uniqueness from the moment of incarnation. Word is made flesh and dwells among us. At some moment in time and in a particular place I am, we are. A series of events earns me a name, a role, and a his-tory. They bond°me with clusters of other human beings, groups among whom I have an ever more distinct place as both individual and member. I belong to a family, a group of friends, of associates, a community, a country. I am an alumnus, a professional, a supporter of causes, a member of a party, or perhaps one of the group that shuns such memberships. These group-forming events may be circumstantial or intentional. I do not choose my family. My first friends tend to be those in Participation in daily Eucharist confirms an aspect self-definition and en ga ged,me in a process of ego ,extension. the immediate vicin-ity or at my school. Gradually I become more selective. I go away to a university. I choose a profession, opening new possi-bilities of bonding. I marry. I am ordained. I join a religious congregation. Each choice helps to define me and also the others I include when using the first per-son plural. Participation in daily Eucharist confirms an aspect of self-definition and engages me in a process of ego extension. 270 Prayer in the first person plural The Eucharistic ritual may be viewed as an exercise in gathering. Whoever is present joins with the priest and others "in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit." Each successive "Amen" serves to expand and to confirm this bonding among those who Review for Religious seek mercy, offer praise, listen to the word, and proclaim "Thanks be to God." Together we express our belief in all that defines us individually and collectively as people of God. We ask God to hear our prayers. The celebrant invites us to ask that our sacrifice be acceptable. We lift up our hearts to the Lord. From the end of the offertory through the Eucharistic Prayer, the first person singular occurs only in the words of Jesus: This in my body, my blood. Do this in memory of me. We unite in the Memorial Acclamation and begin to acclaim our larger sense of who stands with us in the pres-ence of our God: our ancestors, saints, angels, all who have gone before us, our sisters and brothers, the church throughout the world. Together in the unity of the Holy Spirit we proclaim the great Amen. The Our Father makes repeated use of the first person plural. The first person singular returns with the Communion. I am not worthy, but I will be healed so that I may join with the others in sharing the bread. The ritual concludes in the communal blessing, again in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit and with a com-munal Amen. In union with the holy sacrifice of the Mass throughout the world In the conversations on Eucharist, the daily partici-pants often express the belief that what is happening in their local church or chapel is part of a larger, continu-ous gathering of the church throughout the world and throughout the ages. They refer to the Last Supper as the initiation of an event that is as much a present reality as it is the deposit of the faith of their ancestors. Several reli-gious have noted that, while religious formation helped shape their understanding of Eucharist, they brought the practice from their families. 271 66.3 2007 Moffe~ ¯ Conversations on Eucharis~ They go on to indicate that the time of the Mass itself is not necessarily when they have the most powerful expe-rience of the presence of the Lord. They speak of cen-tering prayer, lectio divina, or moments in ministry or service as the source of a joy that they will later bring to the Eucharist. Visits to the Blessed Sacrament The preservation of the Eucharistic species for pur-poses of cult is minutely regulated by tradition and decree. Today's priesthood, the ordained and the nonordained participation of the laity, has reset the bounds of the sacred. Devotion takes new forms. The liturgy empha-sizes the immolation of the sacrificial Victim and the communal consumption of the divine banquet. Our times are marked by fewer priests, fewer celebrations, multifunctional worship spaces, limited visiting hours--scarcity issues and vagrancy concerns. Ecumenical unease marks practices that others might not distinguish from idolatry or superstition. And yet churches in retirement areas are reporting that the chapels of the Blessed Sacrament are centers of vibrant and steady worship. Youth leaders attest that silent time before the Blessed Sacrament has a unique attraction for many of today's adolescents. They willingly participate in quiet beholding. Behold announces some of the more powerful moments of the Scriptures. Adam and Eve have such a moment, and it evokes fear. Jacob experiences the Lord poised over Youth leaders attest thdt silent time before the Blessed Sacrament,has a= unique attraction for many of today's adolescentd. Review for Religious him and marvels: "Indeed, the Lord is in this place, and I did not know" (Gn 28:17). Mary is shaken by the words of the annunciation and responds, inviting reflection on what she is experiencing. "Behold the handmaid of the Lord." Generations have waited to behold the Wonder Counselor, the Prince of~ Peace. John the Baptist identifies Jesus: "Behold the Lamb of God" (Jn 1:35). And years later a peasant is asked to explain a daily ritual. Coming home from work in the fields, he visits a chapel, slips into a pew, and simply sits for half an hour before the tabernacle. To what end? "I look at Him and He looks at me." Perception The beholder and the beheld enter into a moment of profound access to each other. Each delights in the other, the Creator and the created, the Redeemer and the redeemed, the Spirit and the confirmed. Past and future converge in an experience of the divine Presence, Self-absorption? Me and Jesus? The communicants claim that the Eucharist makes it much more. There under the sign of bread are the lives of those, united in banquet and sacrifice, who do all in memory of the Lord: the priest called from among the people to articulate their hurts and hopes, one with. them in uniting their daily lives to that of Jesus, believers and those helped in their unbelief, those commemorated, the living and the dead, a communion of the faithful. This is the Body of Christ, the people of God, the church. Here I am at once at home and in the world, with those I know and love, with those I do not know but seek to love. We forgive and are forgiven. Agency Conversations afford an insight into the perceived "agency" of the speaker.3 In describing my actions I 66.3 2007 Moffett * Conversations on Eucharist acknowledge aspects of my engagement that come from within. I choose to go, I seek out, I attend, I listen, I pray. I work past dis.tractions, past reservations about the celebrant or my fellow congregants. Yes, I am an agent in the process. Those who accompany me are also agents. We chose to act together. The Lord is, in a similar sense, the principal agent of the Eucharist. Paul teaches that the Lord whose kingdom is among us and whose will is being done on earth and in heaven is transforming us as individuals and as a group. Scriptures reveal a God who is "forming a people particularly his own" (Tt 2:14). We profess that as we engage in Eucharist the Lord is doing great things among us. In the last analysis my agency is simply one of consent-ing to what the Lord is doing to me, to us. Here a psychol-ogist invites others to carry forward the conversation. Choosing to stay the course--the joy of the journey This brief summary of what I am hearing from a very small set of the faithful brings us back to the conclusion of the first recorded conversation on Eucharist. John had Jesus' listeners requesting "Give us always this bread." Jesus indicates that they do not fully understand what they are asking. '¢I'his is the bread that has come down from heaven; not as your fathers ate the manna, and died. He who eats this bread shall live forever" (Jn 6:59). Jesus challenges his listeners. Some depart. Others join Peter, a bit perplexed, but willing to stay the course: "To whom shall we go? You have the words of everlasting life.We have come to believe and to know that you are the Christ, the Son of God" (Jn 6:69-70). Peter does not always get it right. Paul calls him to task on the issue of who is invited to the feast (Ga 2:12). A postresurrection conversation on the way to Emmaus moves two early disciples. They seek out the others and Review for Religious share with burning hearts what happened along the way and in the breaking of the bread (Lk 24:33). That conver-sation continues and needs to continue in our day. Notes 1 P.S. Moffett, "Promoting Agency among Children and Adolescents at the Margins" (Invited Address, American Psychological Association), Journal of Pastoral Counseling 30 (1995). 2 Discourse/speech of Pope Benedict XVI with the Clergy of Rome, 2 March 2006. See the Vatican web page. 3 Dan P. McAdams, The Stories We Live By (New York: William Morrow and Company, 1993); David Bakan, The Duality of Human Existence: Isolation and Communion in Western Man (Boston: Beacon Press, 1996). Prayer Lord, do you now therefore, speaking through my lips, pro-nounce over this earthly travail your twofold efficacious word: the word without which all that our wisdom and our experi-ence have built up must totter and crumble~the word through which all our most far-reaching speculations and our encounter with the universe are come together into a unity. Over every living thing which is to spring up, to grow, to flower, to ripen during this day say again the words: This is my Body. And over every death-force which waits in readiness to corrode, to wither, to cut down, speak again your commanding words which express the supreme mystery of faith: this is my Blood. Teilhard de Chardin, The Mass on the World from Hym .of the Universe, p. 23. 66.3 2007 the feminine DAMIAN C. ILODIGWE Mary and the Magnificat 276 The church teaches us that the Blessed Virgin Mary was assumed into heaven body and soul at the end of her earthly life, to share in the glory of her Son. This is what the solemnity of the Assumption celebrates. It is the victory of Christ over sin and death. Mary was the first beneficiary of this victory, and that is why God preserved her body from decay, not allowing it to undergo corruption. But the victory of Christ is also our victory, as the church affirms in the mystery of faith when we proclaim "Dying you destroyed our death, rising you restored our life, Lord Jesus, come in glory." Like several other feasts of Mary, the Assumption underlines the place of Mary in Christian life. This derives from her privileged choice as the Mother of the Savior. It is not as if she was chosen for this important assignment Damian C. Ilodigwe'is a priest and a lecturer in philoso-phy at Ss. Peter and Paul Major Seminary; P.M.B. 5171, Secretariat P.O; Ibadan, Nigeria. dammychuks@yahoo. tom Review for Religio~s because of anything she was. The choice was gratuitous, depending wholly on God's grace. It is only fitting and proper that mankind should also honor her after she was so honored by God. From the text of Mary's song of thanksgiving in response to the greeting and commendation of her cousin Elizabeth, it is evident that Mary was not oblivious of the significance of her ~privileged choice. She was aware that it was the work of the Lord. And the reality of her choice filled her with immense gratitude and appreciation, to which she gave expression in the celebrated words .of the Magnificat: My soul proclaims the greamess of the Lord, and my spirit exults in God my savior, because he has looked upon his lowly handmaid. Yes, from this day forward all generations will call me blessed, for the Almighty has done great things for me. Holy is his name, and his mercy is from age to age for those who fear him. (Lk 1:46-50) Mary, Privilege and Responsibility We share in the sentiments of appreciation that Mary expresses here. We all enjoy one privilege or another, and, when we come to appreciate the value of what we have, it is often with gratitude. Consider, for instance, the joy of motherhood or fatherhoo& It is a unique privilege to be the father of a child just as it is a unique privilege to be the mother of a child. None of us ever chooses our parents. They are one of those things that are given to us. In the case of his only-begotten Son, God. made the choice of his mother and Mary was the woman. But the joy of mother-hood is not in any way diminished. On the contrary, it is elevated to a greater height because Mary's child is not just any child, but the savior of the world, the Son of God. It is one thing to say that .the joy of motherhood is unique. It is another thing to be a good mother. One is a 277 66.3 2007 llodig~e ¯ Nlary and the ~lagn~at privilege and the other is a duty. For every privilege there is a corresponding responsibility. Being a good mother is the responsibility that goes with the privilege of being a mother. In the case of Mary, she not only enjoyed the privilege but was also a good mother. She took seriously the duties that follow from being a mother. And this we can confirm from the various episodes in the life of Jesus right from the moment of his conception to the time he was buried.1 What we notice is an inseparable union between mother and Son, with the mother doing all she could .to care for her Son. She shared in the sufferings of her Son and remained with him when the going became tough and everyone deserted him. Little wonder she is called the mother of sorrows, given that she was fully united with her son in his passion. The two hearts were one in suffering. It is only logical, then, that when Jesus achieved his glory he should make sure that his mother shared in his glory. This is the logic that underpins the mystery of the Assumption of Mary into heaven. We can regard it as an explicit reward for Mary's fidehty,z True, by the privileged choice of God, she became the mother of Jesus, being preserved from original sin. But it was .by her own cooperation with the grace of God that she preserved her virginity and remained sinless all through her life, so that in her we witness the triumph of life over death, a result that awaits all who walk in the footsteps of Christ. 278 The Example of Mary and Our Contemporary Situation We might ask what all this means for us. The truth is that we too ~are privileged to be followers of Jesus. It is a privilege to be a Christian, and by virtue of our being Christians we carry Jesus in,our hearts. Jesus dwelt in the womb of Mary for nine months and through this medium Review for Religio~ was introduced to the world. Mary's womb was the origi-nal .locus of the mystery of the incarnation. The Word took flesh first in the womb of Mary before he was born in Bethlehem. By the power of divine grace, this same action takes place when we are baptized into the death and resurrection of Jesus. The Word made flesh makes our heart his abode and dwells with us and among us, and through us he is intro-duced to the world. So it is always a unique moment when we step forward to receive Jesus . in Holy Communion. This moment is fundamental to the definition of our Christian identity in the sense that it invites us to become what we receive. While it is a privilege to bear Jesus in our hearts, we need to ask ourselves how well we fulfill the duties deriv-ing from this privilege. We need to ask how we are living as Christians. I suppose this is where the life of Mary speaks to us. We should be concerned to know whether we are giving our best to our Christian commitment. There is no question that the challenges of being a Christian are enormous. They call for a great deal of sacrifice, and it is unlikely that we shall measure up unless we are supported by the grace of God. To love God with all our hearts and serve him with a single-minded devotion is not something easy. It will often require us to do what we would rather not do. And sometimes it may mean having to put off our plan and agenda in order to allow God to have his place in our life. It means preferring God to self and to any other human being. This is what it means to love God in all things and above all things. ~ It is a privilege to be ,. . ~ a Christian, and by virtue of our being Christians ¯ we car~Jesus in,our hearts. 279 66.3 2007 Ilodigwe ¯ Mary and the Magnificat Given her status as protodisciple of Jksus, we can confidently turn to her to teach us how to be disciples of her Son. 280] The demand is radical. But we need not be afraid because in Mary we have an example of one who has passed through this challenge. We see, for example, how she strug-gled through the challenge of accepting God's plan and putting aside her original plan of marrying Joseph. It is not as easy as it sounds. We must consider that it was really a painful choice, as it will be in deciding for God in difficult circumstances in our life. With Mary, however, her faith was the secret of her success. We cannot forget easily her celebrated fiat, which should be our own attitude to all that life brings to us, especially when it seems to run contrary to our desires. "Let it be done to me according to your word" (Lk 1:38) was her response to the angel's invitation to be the mother of Jesus, despite all the confusion and trouble that the thought of this caused her. It is always best to prefer the will. of God to our own will or the will of any other mortal. We may not see the point immediately, but it always turns out that our peace truly lies in the will of God. There are probably no saints who did not come to realize this basic point at some time in their life. It is the same point that St. Augustine expresses at the summit of his search for God when he says, "Our hearts are made for you, O God, and we remain resdess until we rest in you." This has remained the deepest spiritual truth that all disciples of Jesus must learn if they are to attain the life of blessedness, which is the ultimate reward of discipleship. Mary was the first to teach this lesson and live it out by the manner of her life. Review for Religious Thus she was not only the Mother of Jesus, but also the first disciple of Jesus. She was the first to follow him as he deserves to be followed. And in following him she did not spare herself. She gave everything she could give, so that the bond between mother and Son was no mere physical bond, nor was it a mere biological bond. True, they were bonded physically and biologically. Yet the most crucial bond proved to be the spiritual bond, since mother and Son were one in heart and mind. Because of this deep spiritual bond, the mother was prepared to be spent for her Son and, true to Simeon's prophecy, her heart was pierced with sorrow,6 so that like the man of sorrows she became the mother of sorrows, identifying most fully with her Son's predicament (see Lk 2:21-3 5). On one occasion Jesus had been teaching, and there came a message that his brothers and sisters were waiting to see him. In his characteristic manner, he turned to the crowd and responded by asking, "Who are my brothers and sisters?" He then went on to answer that "my broth-ers and sisters are those who do the will of my Father." We may say the question is startling. But the answer conveys his meaning, that the spiritual bond is more important than the biological bond, so that it is not our physical affiliation with Jesus that matters as much as our spiritual affiliation with him. Of course there is no opposition between the two. Yet to ignore the claim of the latter at the expense of the former easily empties discipleship of its true meaning. We must say that Jesus' emphasis on the spiritual serves to preclude this possibility. No one other than Mary under-stood the demand of both affiliations. Indeed in her we find an excellent integration of both demands. Beyond the fact that she was the mother of Jesus, she sought above all to realize the will of God in her life even at the cost of great pain and sacrifice. 66.3 2007 Ilodig'we ¯ ~/~ary and the ~Vlaffnificat Given her status as protodisciple of Jesus, we can confidendy turn to her to teach us how to be disciples of her Son. We can turn to her to teach us how to love and serve her Son with all our heart. As she was always there for Jesus, she is always there for us, since by the gift of her Son she has also became our mother, and what a good mother she is! She continues her work still on behalf of us her children from her heavenly throne, where she reigns with her Son in the glory of the resurrection. She continues to labor to ensure the fulfillment of her Son's wish that all people be saved. Thus, on a day such as the solemnity of the Assumption, we must ask her for the grace to grow in our knowledge, love, and service of Jesus. We must ask her to obtain for us the grace to be faithful to our Christian commitment, so that at the end of our lives here on earth we shall .have the privilege of entering into the glory of the Lord. Notes ' See Federico Suarez, Joseph of Nazareth (Abingdon, England: Scepter, 1982), chapters 6-7. 2 See Mark Miravalle, Introduction to Mary: The Heart of Marian Devotion and Doctrine (Santa Barbara: Queenship Publishing Company, 1993), chapter 2. Review for Religious LEO HERETO Margaret, the Woman of Becchi Mthargaret Bosco was the mother of John Bosco, e diocesan priest who began the Salesian soci-ety for the education of poor and abandoned youth in Turin, a congregation that soon spread through Italy and around the world. Today it is in 192 countries. Hugh of St. Victor declared in the 12th century that the aim of all human activity is the recovery° of Eden and that Eden's very nature is to be unchangeable. In the garden two persons, a man and a woman, failed. The story is stark as narrated in Genesis 3:1-20. In John Bosco's life a woman played a most important part. It is a hundred and fifty years since this woman, Margaret Occhiena, passed away, but her profound influence remains in the Salesians of St. John Bosco. When we think of vocations to the priesthood and to consecrated life, we must never underestimate the feminine dimension. Vocations seem to spring from the womb of women devoted to God and his divine will. When her father in his patriarchal way decided on marriage for his daughter, Leo Hereto SDB writes from Don Bosco Technical Centre; Postal Box 124; Apia, Samoa. 66.3 2007. Hereto * Margaret, the Woman of Becchi 284 Margaret Occhiena married the widower Francis Bosco, a young farmer twenty-seven years old. He had lost his first wife after six years of marriage and was left with a three-year- old son, Anthony. At her marriage in June 1812, Margaret was twenty-three. This marriage saw the birth of Joseph in 1813 and John on 16 August 1815. Francis was to die in May 1817 after suffering what appears to be some type of pneumonia. Before dying he asked Margaret to "take special care of our baby John, who is just twenty-one months old." At twenty-nine Margaret was left with three children, her stepson and her own two boys, and her mother-in-law, the children's "Nonna." Her catechetical method was not what she learned from books, for she was unable to read, but she empha-sized living in the presence of God. The children were taught the importance of duty, openness to others, and never to say no to anyone in need, whether that person was a beggar or a fugitive from the police. Margaret would spend the night with dying people, holding their hands and consoling them. Her children were three dif-ferent characters. Anthony had lost his mother at three and his father at nine, and these deaths had left a scar on his character that made him hostile and nasty in the family. He was "like a bear with a sore head." When his grandmother ("Nonna") died in 1826, he often became violent. He had a deep dislike for his stepbrother John. When John set a book down on the table, the young man would toss it with a great deal of bravado into the wood stove, stamp his foot, and say, "We are workers, and only workers are accepted in this house." Margaret treated this little "Pharaoh" with great calm and concern, never beating him for his misbehavior and always treating him with great kindness as her husband's son. Anthony would sometimes hurl cutting and hurtful words at Margaret, often using the Italian word for stepmother (matrigna), a Review for Religious word with harsh and insulting overtones. Margaret never made an issue of this, but treated him gently but firmly. The Time of Great Decision. In 1835, as John reflected on his vocation, he felt the appeal of joining the Franciscans who had a center among the hills of Piedmont. Poor peasant that he was, he knew that his mother would find it hard to provide the fees for the seminary at Turin. So,he met the prior of the Franciscans, who made him sit for an examination. He passed it very well and was ready to begin his pos-tulancy that year. When John's parish priest heard about this desire of his to join the Franciscans, he rushed to Mama Margaret and told her in shock of her son's proposal to become a Franciscan. Faithful parishioner, the good lady listened to him and reflected on what he said. Later that day, when John came home, his mother with womanly wisdom said, "I have nothing to say to you regarding your vocation, except that you should do what God inspires you to do! Do not be concerned on my behalf. You owe me nothing. Never forget that I was born in poor circum-stances and have lived in poverty all my life. I am happy to die poor. I tell you this seriously. If you ever become wealthy, I shall never cross your doorstep!" John went to the seminary. After his first Mass at Becchi, Margaret had something to confide to her son. "John, you area priest. You will be , "!Neve~rforget that I was born in poor circumstances and ~ ' havk lived in poverty all my life. , i am happy to die poor." 285 66.3 2007 Hereto ¯ ~largaret, the Woman of Becchi 286] celebrating the Eucharist, and so you will be closer to Christ. Remember, John, that to begin to celebrate Mass is also to begin to suffer. You will not realize this at once, but you will gradually become more and more aware of it." In 1844 John finally finished his postsacerdotal stud-ies and began his apostolate for the benefit of boys and young men. He found that without some type of hostel his work for boys would be in vain, He managed to buy a place, the "Pinardi shed," in the "red light" area of Turin. Close to this shed was the villa Gioiosa, notorious for the characters that fitted into this industry. Don Bosco gradu-ally built up a kind of club consisting of boys who were orphans or were seeking work in the big city or had been driven there from the countryside that had been ravaged by drought in recent years. Spending time with these young men, he would have heard people cry, "What are you doing with these young-sters?" His mother was the answer to this problem. She was fifty-three years old, matron or rather queen in her home at Becchi, surrounded by her children and her chil-dren's children. But, when asked by her son to be a part-ner in his apostolate, she packed a small basket with her few clothes, her folded wedding dress and not much more, and went with him to face the chaIlenges of an apostolate among the rejected of society. With this wise mother of his, he would discuss things. And she did the cooking for two hundred, mending their torn clothes, looking after the sick. She became so involved in this apostolate that to.some it seemed rashness or misdirected faith. When a poor beggar came to the door looking for food, Margaret looked at her wedding ring and gave it to him to help feed his large family. Love is limidess. Her wedding dress sym-bolically became a vestment for the Lord. As the rough and at times uncouth young men streamed into the shed at night, she would offer them a thought for the day. Review for Religious In Salesian tradition this became what is called a "good night" (buonanorte) In November 1856 the little lady of Becchi was fast fading away. With deep faith she received her son's bless-ing and the anointing of sick. On 25 November, at sixty-three years of age, this woman of grace gave her soul back to God. Like Monica she asked John not to fret over her going but to remember her at Mass. In her little room were a few old clothes, patched and repatched. Pope John Paul II said of her, "She was a woman of God." Sonnet for the Fall The story of our ancient discontent, Or myth, or fable, or a rueful guess, Catching the heart's sense of slow, sad descent, From fresh to stale, from much to less and less; The arriving, never quite where we went, Words, never quite sufficient to express Exactly what we mean, or thought we meant, The failure even of seeming success. "You'll learn," we tell our children and they will, As we have learned, whose parents learned it, too - The lesson only living can instill, Teaching us Augustine's prayer anew: Lord, thou hast made us for thyself and we Fall, ever, till we fall to rest in thee. Ian T. White 66.3 2007 DAVID COGHLAN Discernment in Common as Cooperative Inquiry apostolic direction 288 The special issue of The Way Supplement in 1996 reflected on the experience of communal discernment. After what it described as a tidal wave of enthusiasm and unrealistic expecta-tions in the 1970s, it noted that "the process of group discernment now holds real possibilities for effective understanding and action."' It is in this context that I explore discernment in com-mon and introduce cooperative inquiry, a form of action ~esearch which is compatible with the kind of faith activity that discernment is and accords with how discernment in common may be conducted. The word research is associated in most peo-ple's minds with theories. Research is conducted in the world of ideas and their formulation. This model has shaped the social sciences since the 17th century. Research, on this model, examines David Coghlan SJ is a lecturer in organizafon development at Trinity College, Dublin. His address is 129 Morehampton Road; Dublin 4, Ireland. dcoghlan@tcd.ie Review for Religious an "objective" truth which exists outside of the world of the researcher and is disconnected from the action of everyday life. Research techniques are thus concerned with objective impartiality, with forms of knowledge that can be defended propositionally and so are considered to be valid and to apply universally. Social sci-ence no longer works with this model alone. When postmodern-ism began to emerge some thirty years ago, people became more aware of language, and in particular of how our experience is influ-enced as much by the language we use as by any objective reality. Others have come to regard human inquiry as seeking knowledge not simply for its own sake, but also for the enhancement of good practice in everyday life. Now, it is argued, is a time for science in action rather than just about action.2 Action research is such a science in action. Action research is research that aims at both taking action and c~'eating knowledge or ,theory about that action. What Is Action Research? As the name suggests, action research is research that aims at both taking action and creating knowledge or theory about that action. The outcomes are an action and some new knowledge, not knowledge only. In effect, action research is about creating forms of inquiry that people can use in the conduct of their lives and involves changing what we take as knowledge. It reflects a con-cern for an "action turn" to replace the linguistic turn of postmodernism.3 It has origins and roots in diverse fields: the social psychology experiments of Kurt Lewin, 66.3 2007 Coghlan ¯ Discernment in Common the pragmatic philosophy of John Dewey, the emergent field of organization development, the liberationist work of Paulo Freire, Catholic action, liberation theology, and feminist thought.4 Ignatian spirituality and action research have a lot in common, and action research contributes to spirituality research. There are some striking overlaps between motifs of Ignatian spirituality--a spirituality in which "action" is a central motif---and the features of this new pattern of thinking in the social sciences called "action research.''5 There are striking convergences between the idea of action research and Ignatian teaching about the interplay of prayer and action. The technical concepts developed by action research theory help sharpen the reflection encour-aged by Ignatian spirituality. Though the methods of the social sciences are sometimes reductive, either ignoring the religious or else translating it into other allegedly more accurate terms, the epistemology and processes of action research are quite appropriate to the knowledge born of grace and religious faith. In this vein, it can be proposed that there is an Ignatian approach to social science. It has been apparent to me for many years that Ignatius was very modern in his approach to reflexive inquiry. This article is a development of an earlier one and continues the endeavor to bring Ignatian spirituality and action research together.6 The purpose is twofold. First, I want to introduce a stream within action research prac-tice, balled cooperative inquiry, and show how it can have close links to discernment in common in the Ignatian tra-dition. Second, I wish to advance further the articulation of an Ignatian approach to social science research so that the practice of discernment in common may be given a voice as research. The contribution, therefore, is to those who undertake research in spirituality and may use action research in researching discernment in common. Review for Religiou~ One contribution that action research theory, can make to Ignatian spirituality comes from the idea that an integrative approach to research incorporates three differ-ent practices, which are called "first person," "second per-son," and "third person.''7 Ignatian first-person practice is concerned with how people find God in their own expe-rience. Ignatian sec- ~ ond-person practice focuses on people's relationships in their shared inquiry about their life together as Christians. Ignatian ~, third-person prac-tice moves beyond the direcdy personal ~ and seeks to enrich the life of the church and the world. In this article, I introduce cooperative inquiry as a form of second-person practice to link with Ignatian second-person practice of discernment in common. The knowledge born of faith and prayer (experien-tial knowing) is expressed in presentational form through our images of God, through the language of our prayers, through religious art and music. This experiential and presentational knowing is articulated in propositional form in the statements of our faith, in the creed, in how our beliefs are formulated and understood through theol-ogy. All this is expressed in practical knowing as we apply ourselves to trying to live the Christian faith. Action research, too, works with ways of knowing that go beyond the propositional form that we think of as research.8 With this brief summary of links between Ignatian spirituality and action research, I now introduce cooperative inquiry as a specific stream of expression within action research. Action, rese arch works with ways :of knowing that go beyond the propositional form , that we think Of'as research. 66.3 2007 Cogblan * Discernment in Common 292. Cooperative Inquiry9 John Heron and Peter Reason define cooperative inquiry "as involving two or more people researching a topic through their own experience of it in order to (1) understand their world to make sense of their life and develop new and creative ways of looking at things and (2) learn how to act to change things they might want to change and find out how to do things better.1° As John Heron puts it, "it is a vision of persons in reciprocal relation using the full range of their sensibilities to inquire together into any aspect of the human condi-tion with which the transparent mid-body can engage.''1~ In cooperative inquiry each person is a co-subject in the experience phases by participating in the activities being researched and a co-researcher in the reflection phases by participating in generating ideas, designing and managing the project, and drawing conclusions. Cooperative inquiry goes something like this. 1. A group agree on what they want to explore. The group may be formed specifically for this purpose. The group talk about their interests and concerns, agree on the focus of the inquiry, and develop together a set of questions or proposals the members wish to explore. As an example, Reason mentions a group of obese and post-obese women who met to explore their experience, how they were stereotyped in society, and how it was difficult for them to obtain appropriate attention from doctors. 2. The group bring actions from their everyday situ-ations into the inquiry after initiating some actions and observing and recording the outcomes of their own and each other's behavior. 3. The group members as co-researchers become fully immersed in their experience. They may go deeper into the experience, or they may be led away from the original Review for Religious ideas and proposals into new fields, unpredicted action, and creative insights. 4. After an agreed period engaged in phases two and three, the co-researchers reassemble to consider their original questions in the light of their experience. Cooperative inquiry works on iteration, or cycling through the four steps. Repetitions--perhaps between six and ten cycles on an inquiry topic--can help toward better understanding of an issue, an improved grasp of the whole issue and its parts. An important element of cooperative inquiry is that it works with the different ways of knowing we discussed earlier. In cooperative inquiry, inquiry is deeper and richer if the different ways of knowing work together, "if our knowing is grounded in our experience, expressed through our stories and images, understood through ideas which make sense to us, and expressed in worthwhile action in our lives."12 Cooperative inquiry is a way of doing research that is radically different from the traditional way. It involves people examining their own experiences and action in collaboration with others who share similar interests and concerns. The heart of the learning process is threefold.13 First, learning takes place through iterative cycles of action and reflection. Second, this learning takes place in a cooperative inquiry group of peers who provide mutual support and challenge. Third, through the process partic-ipants develop a quality of self-reflective inquiry whereby they learn to attend to their own experience and learn how to learn from experience. Heron emphasizes that there is no one account of cooperative inquiry and that his comprehensive presentation should not be construed as the account.~4 This is an important point, for it opens up the possibility of exploring discernment in common as cooperative inquiry. 293 66.3 2007 Coghlan * Discernment in Common Having presented a brief outline of action and research and a general introduction to cooperative inquiry, I now explore how cooperative inquiry and the Ignatian tradi-tion of discernment in common may be linked. To do this They held, as principle thatGod l .,. is kind and gift-giving~ndI ~ / that they should earnestly ;~ seek what God wantedoff ~hern~ .,,. ~ I focus on one partic-ular discernment in common, namely, that of the early Jesuits who met in 1539 to discern their future as a group.~s It is not my intention to focus on discernment in common as such, nor to explore its nuances and processes, nor to do a textual analysis or engage in discussions of the Deliberation's place in the development of discernment in common.~6 In this article my aim is first to introduce the Deliberation in summary form and second to see if the elements of cooperative inquiry can be found in the Deliberation. 2,94 The Deliberation of 1539 On 13 August 1534 at Monmartre in Paris, Ignatius and his six companions pronounced vows of poverty and chastity and a vow to go to Jerusalem, and then they dis-persed. In January 1537 the seven, joined by three others, met in Venice. They spent the next two years in Venice and Rome, preaching and working with the poor. This group of priests was held together by the love of Christ, dedication to apostolic work, the authority of the pope, and the leadership of Ignatius. The time came when dis-persal was imminent, for the pope planned to send them in response to requests from bishops all over Europe. The question was whether this would be the end of the group Review for Religious as a~ group or whether it would seek to establish itself more formally as a group. In 1539 the group deliberated on what it wanted to do. There was a diversity of nationalities in the group, French, Spanish, Savoyard, and Portuguese, and there was diversity of feeling and opinion. Accordingly, the first issue they dealt with was process. They held as principle that God is kind and gift-giving and that they should ear-nestly seek what God wanted of them. There were prepa-ration steps and procedure steps. During the day each man would meditate and reflect on the questions and in the evening share his thoughts with the group and in par-ticular share his reasons and judgments. The intention was that "all with one mind would embrace the truer way of thinking, tested and commended by the more powerful reasons and by majority vote" (187). The first question they confronted was whether to bond together so that geography would not separate them or to cut their ties and disperse. "In the end we estab-lished the affirmative side of the question, that., we ought not split apart what God had gathered and united" (192). The reasons were their shared history and the signs they saw of what God was doing in them. The second question was whether, along with their vows of chastity and poverty, it would "be advantageous [to] pronounce a third vow, namely, of obedience to some-one from among us" (194). This opened up the ques-tion of authority in the group and, in effect, whether the group would form a religious order or not. "Then we had persisted in prayer and thought for many days without hitting on any satisfactory resolution of our uncertainty. We. started to cast about for better ways of working out such a resolution" (195). Given the impasse they were in, would it be better for the group to go away to a hermitage and be secluded, 66.3 2007 Cogblan ¯ Discernment in Common 296 Each was to ready himself through prayer, Masses, and meditation to reach the or should they stay in the city and continue their apos-tolic ministry, or should they delegate a few to reach a conclusion on behalf of the group? They opted to stay in the city and continue their apostolic ministry and give half of every day to their deliberation. Each was to ready himself through prayer, Masses, and meditation to reach the right dispo-sitions. Second, none of the companions was to communicate with any-one else about the issue. right dispositions. Third, each was to think ' ~, ' of himself as a stranger ~ to the group and so to be more objective and not caught up in the emotions of a group member. These preparations were to enable each member to make an individual contribution to the whole process, presenting his personal view. When the group convened, it used another proce-dure, also aimed at shifting the impasse. "Each one was to declare all the disadvantages which could be brought against obedience [by vow, to one of our group], all the reasons which presented themselves, and which anyone of us had found in his own private reflections, meditation, and prayer. What he had gathered, each in his turn was to make known" (201). "On the next day we argued for the opposite side of the question, each one putting before the group all the advantages and good consequences of such obedience which he had drawn from prayer and medita-tion. Each took his own turn to present his reflections" (203). Eventually they reached their outcome. "During many days, from this side and that, we worked over a mass of Review for Religious data related to the resolution of our problem, we exam-ined and weighed the more forceful and important rea-sons and took time as usual for prayer, meditation, and reflection. By the Lord's help, we did at last, not [just] with a majority judgment but without a single dissenting voice, come to this conclusion: Obedience to one of us is highly advantageous and highly necessary in order to ful-fill more effectively and exacdy our primary desire of ful-filling God's will in all details of life, in order to preserve the Society more assuredly, and finally in order to pro-vide properly for all the detailed matters of spiritual and temporal business which arise" (205). The Deliberation took almost three months. As Jules Toner comments, the success of the more fully developed method for discern-ment was not only the reformulation of the process from the first question in order to deal with the more complex second question: it was also their establishing a method that they used on many other questions over a longer period of time (208). The Deliberation as Cooperative Inquiry Now I discuss how the Deliberation may be viewed in terms of cooperative inquiry, drawing on the four-point process that I oudined above. The first point is clear. A group had an issue that its members needed to explore together; the group met to seek where God was leading it, whether toward dispersal or formal ties between its mem-bers. While it had an informal leader of great influence in the person of Ignatius, the group met as peers. Second, it did not convene just to make a management decision but to engage in a reflective process that included each

Issue 66.4 of the Review for Religious, 2007. ; 66.4 2007 Review for Religious fosters dialogue with God, ~dialogue with ourselves, and dialogue with one another about the holiness we try to live according to charisms of Catholic religious life. As Pope Paul V! said, our way of being church is today the way of dialogue. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the .]csuits of the A~issoori Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulcvard ¯ St. Louis, A'lissouri 63108-3393 "li~lephone: 314-633-4610 ° Fax: 314-633-4611 E-Marl: rcvicw@slu.cdn ¯ \.\;eh site: www.revicwforrcligious.org Manuscripts, books fi~r review, and correspondence with the editor: Revicw for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Bonlcvard ¯ St. Louis, A'IO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth A'lcl)onoogh OP ° Pontifical Collcge Josephinum 7625 North High Street ¯ Colnmhus, Ohio43235 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ 1:O. Bo× 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, ~\~issouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2007 Review fi~r Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contaiued in this issue of Review for Religions for pcrsoual or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sectious 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must hear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permissiou is NOT extended to copying for commercial distrihution, 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. view for religious Editor Associate Editor Canonical Counsel Scripture Scope Editorial Staff Adviso~7 Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonoiagh OP Eugene Hensell OSB M~ry Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Jud~" Sharp Martin Erspamer OSB Kathleen Hughes RSCJ LoOis and Angela Menard Bishop .Ter~ Ste!b.SVD Miriam D. Ukeriti~. CSJ QUARTERLY 66.4 2007 contents prisms 340 Prisms 342 living faith Credible Witnesses Regina Siegfried ASC revisits the martyrdom of five sisters of her congregation fifteen years after the event to invite us all to reflect on what it means to be credible witnesses. 350 358 Priesthood 101: Lessons from a Barrio Antonio (T.J.) Martinez SJ draws upon conversations and experiences with parishioners to propose six pragmatic guidelines on how a new priest ministers to a Latino Catholic congregation. Personal and Group Reflection Questions Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety Mark E Plaushin OSFS proposes Salesian spirituality as offering a paradigm for Catholic pastoral praxis on the battlefield which can mitigat.e anxiety and restore spiritual resilience. Reflective Questions for Personal and Group Use Review for Religious 377 prayer in our life Contemplative Gifts Carolyn Humphreys OCDS reflects upon the richness of the gift of a contemplative orientation to life and our need to guard and nourish what we receive by a manner of living that is rooted in humility. Prayer Suggestion 386 Eucharist Mirrored in Religious Life Elissa Rinere CP traces some of the struggles of the last forty years regarding Eucharist as celebration, Eucharist as sacrament received, and Eucharist as object of adoration. 401 Jesus and Mary ~, The Christ Child, the Father of the Man A. Paul Dominic SJ raises the question: How can adult Christians celebrate and enjoy Christmas for what it is in our faith lives? Prayer 412 The Mother of the Lord in Byzantine Spirituality John M. Samaha SM introduces us to the rich, but different, ways that the veneration of Mary permeates the entire life of Byzantine Christianity. departments ~ 424 Scripture Scope: A Preface to Reading Matthew 429 Canonical Counsel: Conscience and Confidentiality from the Members' Perspective 434 Book Reviews 443 2007 Indexes 66.4 2007 prisms 340 St. Paul identified us Christians as "ambassadors of reconciliation." As Paul says, God has reconciled us to himself through Christ and has given us the ministry of reconciliation (2 Co 5:18). In the large-scale picture of history, we often have not lived up to that role, either as individuals or as a church community. The fact that we can identify wars as reli-gious wars does not fit well with people who are meant to be known as reconcilers. Probably even worse are the examples from history of the fight-ing between Christian nations and even between Christians in the same nation. One does not have to be an avowed pacifist to acknowledge that something is terribly amiss when the faith that holds us to be brothers and sisters in Jesus Christ has. so little effect in our behavior. There is an evident gap between the faith statements that we might intellectualize about and the faith reality thatis meant to reside in our hearts. We might even take our example of divi-sion into the lived experience of our parish and church life today and our religious community life as well. It makes little difference the iden-tifying labels we use, whether pre-Vatican I~ vs. post-Vatican II, liberal vs. conservative, tradi-tional vs. contemporary. The reality is that there is often present a "warring" mentality that con-siders one side the enemy or the "bad guys." Review for Religious Too often Catholics of whatever stripe are more intent on "defeating" or "dismissing" the opposition or those of a different opinion or practice. Quoting man-made laws, as Jesus tried to point out to the scribes and Pharisees, is not the way to be a negotiator or a reconciler. What does an ambassador of reconciliation need first of all? An ambassador needs to be at the heart of the Christian message, following the one commandment--to love God with all one's heart, with all one's soul, with all one's strength, and with all one's mind, and to love one's neighbor as oneself. And an ambassador needs to pray. To pray means dialoguing with God, and dialogue means both to talk and to listen. Learning to talk and to listen to God carries over into being able to listen and to talk to others, my neighbors. We may not need to learn how to talk, but we certainly need to learn how to listen, and maybe to pray, and even to really love our neighbor. Loving, praying, and dialoguing are necessary activities for an ambassador, necessary activities to learn how to do for one who identifies as a Christian. As we see in the Gospels, Jesus is the first "ambas-sador of reconciliation," the One sent by the Father who loved the world so much. But to be a person who dia-logues, to be one who negotiates, to be a reconciler seems so hard for us to do. It is only in our devotion to Jesus that we find ourselves empowered to live in such a way. The church and our world have never had a greater need of such ambassadors. Like the Christmas gift of Christ, we pray that we may be ambassadors of reconcilation, "a gift that keeps on giving." David L. Fleming SJ 341 ES. The editorial staff wishes all our subscribers and readers a blessed Advent time of hope and expectation and a Christmastime celebration of peace andreconciliation. 66.4 2007 REGINA SIEGFRIED Credible Witnesses living faith 20 October 1992--Rebel soldiers shoot Mary Joel Kolmer ASC and Barbara Ann Muttra ASC, their guard Peter, and two ECOMOG (Economic Community of West African States Cease Fire Monitoring Group) soldiers, on a stretch of road to Barnersville, Liberia, West Africa. 23 October 1992--Five armed NPFL (National Patriotic Front of Liberia) men arrive at the sisters' home in Gardnersville and kill Kathleen McGuire ASC, Agnes Mueller ASC, and Shirley Kolmer ASC. 31 October 1992--Early-morning phone calls and radio announcements break the hearts of fam-ily, friends, and sisters as they learn that the five Adorers of the Blood of Christ died days ago. Regina Siegfried ASC has written often for this journal. She may be addressed at 4042A Botanical; St. Louis, Missouri 63110. Her e-mail: ReginaSiegfried@sbcglobal.net Review for Religious October 2007--Fifteen years hold enough days to dull the pain most of the time, to create narratives that may or may not match the deep stories of community myth, and to reflect on the meaning of lives poured out. Martyrs and prophets--the words, are appropriate for these honored dead, but we would rather have our five sisters still living and laughing in our midst. Words can be too easy, unless they call us today to be courageous in a world still violent, broken, war-ravaged, and suffering. How do we respond, not only to their valiant lives, but also to our own deepest longings to be credible witnesses? In the early days of Christianity, the word martyrs meant witnesses, disciples of Jesus, those who proclaimed his life, death, and resurrection and who preached the good news of the household of God in their society and culture. Luke 24:48 says clearly: "You are witnesses of these things." Acts 1:8 indicates the same: "You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth." In Acts 10:40-4.1 we read: "This man God .raised on the third day and granted that he be visible, not to all the people, but to us, the witnesses chosen by God in advance, who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead." By the 2nd century, execution for faith became associated with martyrdom. But martyrs are first and foremost witnesses to the gospel and messengers of a new way to live. The Constitution of the Adorers of the Blood of Christ uses the phrase credible witness in section 18 on gospel pov-erty: "To give credible witness to the liberating poverty of Christ in the world today and to grow toward poverty of spirit, we live in evangelical simplicity, personally and as community." To be credible witnesses can often mean losing much of what society holds precious. Status, material goods, 66.4 2007 Siegfried ¯ Credible Witnesses Credible witnesses are prophets who speak truth to authority, who advocate for the powerless, and who become voices for the silent, comfortable lifestyle, and easily expendable income can voluntarily or involuntarily fall away. Credible witnesses see beyond and beneath the obvious, the material, and the sufficient to live in solidarity with those who hold enough invisible wealth and power and grace to convert even witnesses to a new way of living. Credible witnesses are prophets who speak truth to authority, who advo-cate for the powerless, and who become voices for the silent. They bear witness to the pain, suf-fering, and anguish in the lives of others simply by being there with them, sharing in the blatant unfair-ness and violence of lives that deserve much better. The Adorers killed in Liberia were credible witnesses long before bullets claimed their lives, long before their blood soaked the soil of a war-torn country whose peo-ple were precious and dear to them. The details of their lives and deaths are now familiar and recorded elsewhere. Those who knew them recall quite vividly lives dedicated to the poor, to women, to children, to the.sick, and to students years before they went to Liberia to witness to the gospel there and to discover a different face of God, a countenance that would draw them to insist on return-ing to share again in the passion of a people suffering in a relentless and seemingly endless civil war. Even as the conflict slowly escalated, Barbara Ann was more concerned about getting a grant to purchase five Hondas "so some of our physician assistants can go to these villages for supervision. Some villages are over ten Review for Religious miles interior over rough dusty roads" (21 March 1987 letter from Klay, Liberia, to her friend Meg Wittenbrink). After a year in Liberia, Agnes wrote on 24 May 1989 to Angelita Myerscough ASC: "I'm sure I am not the same person who came a little over a year ago now. I feel my life is much richer for having spent time with these people. They have given me every bit as much as I have shared With them." On 21 April 1990, writing to Marisa Nardoni ASC in Tanzania, Mary Joel reflected on the readings after Easter: All the readings are from the Acts of the Apostles and it is so reassuring to read how strong they were now that his Spirit has taken over in them. And how we should be because the Spirit is with us and is here, guiding us, leading us on. It must have been something like the saints experienced when they were put on the line for Jesus, how they knew that he, the Lord, was their Savior and that life had meaning for them and that they could stand up for him, even though it meant being killed. It is such a powerful message. And he can do so much in us and through us, if we're only open to him. Barbara Ann, Agnes, and Mary Joel were in Liberia for the people, not to get killed. Years of service in the United States were background for more service to people in Liberia. Not naive, they knew the risks of being with people who were suffering more than they themselves were. Kathleen and Shirley had reputations in the United States as bold and fearless advocates in the face of injustice. When Shirley was provincial of the then Ruma province, she sent Mailgrams to Tom Enders, Assistant Secretary of State for Inter-American Affairs, to the Guatemalan Embassy, to Senator Charles Percy, Senator Alan Dixon, and Representative Paul Simon to express "deep con-cern regarding four workers missing in Guatemala and 66.4 2007 Siegfried ¯ Credible Witnesses the disappearance of two Dominican nuns of Grand Rapids, Michigan, I urge you to support HR 101, stop-ping U.S. aid to Guatemala." In 1987 Shirley wrote a lengthy essay, "Human Suffering and Its Consequences for World Peace," maintaining that "it is the very lives of many of our brothers and sisters who live a life of suf-fering, an existence that borders on the intolerable every day." Even before Kathleen became the peace-and-justice coordinator for the then Ruma province, she drafted a "Possible Diocesan Pastoral Letter Regarding Peace and the War in the Persian Gulf" when she ministered in the Jefferson City, Missouri, diocese. She called for "the whole Catholic community to pray for a peace which is life-sustaining for all our sisters and brothers. We have to acknowledge that we are citizens of a nation which readily uses military force to secure its national interests and to attain its political objectives all around the world." These are simply small examples from the lives of women who lived as credible witnesses years before they were killed in Liberia. If we consider them martyrs, we can just as readily regard them as prophets. Prophets speak truth to author-ity; prophets proclaim the coming of the household and reign of God in season and out of season. Like roses in December, prophets are .unexpected messengers, wit-nesses, and signs of God's presence among us. Prophets are the most credible of witnesses, for their lives are their words and their words are their lives. Standing and stay-ing in solidarity with the suffering, the neglected, and the forgotten, prophets choose life in the face of death and pour out compassion for people bent down by injustice and oppression. Prophets might flinch in the face of vio-lence and injustice, but they do not run away. Fifteen years removed from the days of raw grief, dis-belief, and pain offer us a cautionary tale. Life and the Review for Religious mission and our ministries have indeed moved on, devel-oped, and deepened, something the five absent from our midst would want. The caution comes with the tendency to settle for the mediocre, to choose complacency and comfort, to opt for the safe, for the familiar and easy, because we might - fear the new, the unexpected, and a different vision for our congregation. Our charism is wild, fierce, fiery, ten-der, and urgent. It impels us to live our ordinary lives with extraordinary passion, grace, and commitment. Violence seems to circle our globe like pollen caught in the air currents. Although Liberia and Croatia, where ASC sisters also work, seem to have reached some modicum of nor-mal existence, violence erupts in Afghanistan, Palestine, and Iraq. Children and women are trafficked; slavery is not as over as we once thought. Today, in postwar Croatia, our sisters are witnesses and prophets, living the gospel message even with "many sisters left with serious repercussions and traumas which they feel to this day," Sister Ancilla Vukoja ASC reports. When their Serb Orthodox neighbors expected to be turned away from the drug rehab center the sisters had opened in Aleksandrovac (in the vicinity of Banja Luca) because of the violence they had committed against the sisters and other Croatians, the sisters told them, "We read the Scriptures and in these words we find the forgive-ness and strength to be persons of love toward all." Their martyrdom is in giving witness to forgiveness and recon-ciliation. Some of them remember the trauma of being Prophets are the most credible of witnesses, for their lives are their words' and their words are their lives. 66.4 20O7 Siegfm'ed ¯ Credible Witnesses forced to cross a mine-laced bridge over the Sava River following in the exact steps of the sister leading them through as they sang the Magnificat. When a journalist asked Sister Maristella how she felt and what she thought about, knowing that she was facing death, she replied: "All I could think about was the many other people who were dealt the same fate. I felt that my life was no more important than theirs. I thought that it was even harder for them because, unlike us, they had children who would be orphans." The Adorers who walked that path traveled in spirit with the sisters who fled the Sino-Japanese war in China in 1937, with the ASCs who were held hostage several times and narrowly escaped death in the Congo between 1959 and 1964, with the sisters who stayed and suffered with the people in Guinea Bissau during the civil war there, and with the ASCs who trudged on a road out of Liberia in 1990. As credible witnesses, the congrega-tion has a history of walking difficult routes because the charism impels us to stay beyond the expected time and to remain with people who are precious to us. Sister Ancilla writes: Times like those, however, sometimes uncover unknown heroic potential, readiness to suffer and offer one's life for others, for goodness and love toward others. I can-not but think of our sisters who voluntarily remained in Bosnia during the fiercest conflicts and danger, sharing the fate of the Catholics in that country. They could have retreated to safety but did not out of solidarity with those who could not leave because they did not have the necessary documentation. They realized then more than ever that they were needed by their people. They were a sign to which a suffering people were able to turn and where they could find a trace of hope and protection. Our charism, our slain sisters, and our own hearts call us to live in deep compassion with all the pain and suffer- Review for Religious ing of the least among us. That stance and life make us the best we are meant to be because our charism pulses with the life of all the people of the world. Our charism is wild, fierce, fiery, tender, and urgent. We need to be where the need is greatest. Are we? Background Resources Boehmer, Clare, ASC. Echoes in Our Hearts. Ruma, Illinois: Adorers of the Blood of Christ, 1994. Konieczny, Stanley. Acting in the Most Noble Tradition: The Life and Ministry of the Adorers' Five Martyrs of Charity. ASC Profiles 14. Rome: International Center of Spirituality, Adorers of the Blood of Christ, 1999. Kolmer, Elizabeth, ASC. "The Death of Five Adorers of the Blood of Christ and the Changing Meaning of Martyrdom." U.S. Catholic Historian 24:3 (Summer 2006): 149-164. Okure, Teresa, Jon Sobrino, and Felix Wilfred, eds. Rethinking Martyrdom. SCM-Canterbury Press, 2003. Schubeck, Thomas L., SJ. "Salvadoran Martyrs: A Love That Does Justice." Horizons 28:1 (Spring 2001): 7-29. Siegfried, Regina, ASC. "Choose Life: Reflections Ten Years after Five Deaths," Review for Religious 61:5 (September-October 2002): 472- 480. Vukoja, Ancilla, ASC. "How the Sisters in the Zagreb Region Lived Their Charism during the War and the Postwar Period (particularly in the vicinity of Banja Luka)." May 2007. 16 profili di testimoni della Cbiesa in ltalia. Comitato preparatorio del IV Convengo ecclesiale nazionale (a cura di) Speranza del mondo. 349 66.4 2007 ANTONIO MARTINEZ Priesthood 101: Lessons from a Barrio d s I rushed into the sacristy for my first Mass in Spanish only a week after being ordained, my heart was beating fast. I had not spoken Spa.nish for eight years. I had just been assigned to our Jesuit parish, Sagrado Corazdn, in the segundo barrio in E1 Paso, Texas, on the Mexican border. The parish serves a poor, immigrant, Latino Catholic congregation. My fears about celebrat-ing this Mass increased when a young Mexican woman holding a blanketed newbbrn asked me to bless her baby at Mass. Recognizing that I was new to the parish, she offered instructions on how I should proceed. She would approach me at the presider's chair before the concluding blessing, cradle her baby in my arms, and then kneel as I went and raised it over th~ altar, in front of the congrega-tion, as an offering to God. "What in the world?" I thought to myself. I wondered if I had heard her correctly. But, having just graduated from one of the finest schools of theology in the country, Antonio Martinez SJ, newly ordained but back in more studies, lives at John LaFarge House; 6 Sumner Road; Cambridge, Massachusetts 02138. Review ~or Religious I saw in this request an instance of everything I was not to do--do not make too many distinctions between the ministerial priesthood and the priesthood of the people, do not over-ritualize any of the liturgical celebrations, and do not present yourself as so distinct a mediator of God's grace that the people minimize their own close relation-ship with Christ. Behind each of these admonitions was a "theol-ogy from below," teaching that God, through the Holy Spirit, speaks directly to his people and that the church's ministers can learn from them as well as teach them. Mentally brandishing my line of graduate degrees and sensing an opportunity to instruct the faithful, I politely yet briefly explained to her the idea of a "theology from below" which advocated a more lim-ited function of the office of the priest. Dismissing her until later, I told her I would bless her baby after Mass, on the outside steps of the church, before she and her family headed back home. Two days later I recognized the same lady I had met in the sacristy on Sunday as she humbly made her way to the priedieu before the altar dedicated to La Virgen de Guadalupe. As she finished her rosary, I purposely went near so that she migh~ thank me for both enlightening and empowering her. She came towards me with a shy smile. Graciously thanking me for the quick blessing over In ,their spirituality Latino Catholics 'understand that there, is a sacred distance between God and ~his people that is mediated by the sacred functions of a priest. 66.4 2007 Martinez * Priesthood 101: Lessons from a Barrio her baby, she also said she had been thinking and praying more about this "theology from below." Then, without showing any resentment or anger, but also without any hesitation, she simply said in her hushed Spanish, "You know, Father, I'm also that theology from below." She left as unobtrusively and reverently as she came. Her simple and direct comment left me frozen in my tracks, and then I felt a wave of shame and embarrass-ment. Everything I thought I knew about being a priest paled in comparison with what this one Latina woman had now taught me. Unassuming and unpretentious, she had just shattered my theological and presbyteral pre-sumptions, employing the very method that made them so convincing and dominant in the first place. With one sentence she had sent me to figure out what this barrio congregation wanted and expected from their priest--and could teach me. And there was little time to do this before I had to leave for my next assignment. From the numerous experiences and conversations I had with the parishioners, six axioms arose on how to be an effective Catholic priest to them. I think many Latino populations would agree with them, whether parishes or schools. I offer them, not as theologies or spiritualities, but as practical helps toward seeing and appreciating the Catholic priesthood from a Latino point of view. 1. Eres un sacerdote, dirige tu pueblo. / Maintain the distinction between the ministerial priesthood and the priest-hood of the people. Many Latinos draw a clear distinction between the priesthood of the people and their priest. While there exists a connection, the "special character" about which the ordination rite speaks in its introduction not only results from centuries of theological exploration, but more immediately is sensed in the faith of the people I was sent to serve. The ministerial priesthood, through the bestowal of sacred orders in a line from the first apostles, Review for Religious puts the ordained man in a position of special responsibil-ity, with the expectation that he fulfill the important task of following in the image of Christ by liturgically gath-ering, proclaiming, and consecrating. Latino Catholics continue to insist that this belongs to the ordained priest-hood, for in their spirituality they understand that there is a sacred distance between God and his people that is mediated by the sacred functions of a priest. This distance gives meaning to their worship and praise of God, who is among them yet distinct from them. And, while the parishioners with whom I spoke note that this does not make the ministerial priesthood better than the priest-hood of the people, it does maintain a difference, both in character and in function, which positively and directly affects their relationship with God. 2. Dales tu bendicidn. / A blessing from a priest means something. While canon law clearly outlines the importance of a blessing from a priest, it is the parishioners at Sagrado Corazdn who have emphasized this fact. Before and after every Sunday Mass, I was approached by large numbers of Latino Catholics, young and old, asking for blessings over themselves, their families, and their various religious items and' sacramentals. For them, the priest speaks not only on behalf of the people, but, with great humility and unworthiness, also speaks on behalf of Christ and his church. In so doing, priests function in persona Christi when they give a blessing, making Christ a more immedi-ate reality wherein they, their children, and all the things blessed represent both an offering up to God and God's return of that offering to them in their lives. Ritualized gestures in accordance with the church's instructions only accentuate this reality for a culture where actions speak louder than words. 3. Saluda al pueblo. / Kiss their babies, hug their grand-mothers, and shake everyonek hands. At some parishes, on 66.4 2007 Martinez * Priesthood I O1: Lessons from a Barrio a few occasions (both weekdays and Sundays), I have noticed priests entering and leaving the sacristy or church without saying hello to people nearby. The laypersons gathered for Mass have, of course, enough to do greeting one another, and I do not wish to focus overly on the pre-sider. But I have found that, for Latino congregants, the absence of greeting from their priests strikes them as not only odd but rude. They come to church to praise God, be with each other, and be with their priest. Far from giv-ing the priest a measure of prestige, his failure to interact with his parishioners at the end of Mass alienates them from himself and the church. The congregants from this culture feel most included when they get some "face time" with Father, which in turn reminds them of their impor-tance as the Body of Christ. Moreover, in an age where any "touch" from a priest raises suspicion in some people, Latino Catholics, at least in this barrio, expect and appre-ciate a warm, tangible greeting from their priest, whether it is a kind embrace, a firm handshake, or a kiss on their baby's forehead (this last one especially, according to a Jesuit priest serving in another barrio). 4. Presentate como un padre. / Wear your clerics. Clerical clothing has sometimes raised problems, espe-cially during and shortly after the height of the horrific sexual-abuse scandal in the church. Latino Catholics in the barrios, however, want their priests to look like priests when working as priests. Our parish sits along the Mexican border, and the sight of our church and of priests in clerics gives people hope and a sense of home after a long, dangerous, and even abusive journey. Furthermore, far from looking for their priests to blend in and be their buddies .and far from looking down on clerical garb as old-fashioned, the Latino culture likes clothing to reflect well-defined roles, for it helps people avoid any ambigu-ous conduct in their relationship with priests. Then, too, Review for Religious clerical garb, when not abused, stands as a symbol of ser-vice and of respect for God, the church, and the congre-gation; it is a witness to the Catholic faith they are proud of. This symbol of their faith is something Latinos cling to most especially as they migrate to foreign places and cultures where they may suffer abuse simply because of who they are. 5. Portate como un angel /ddbere to and model a higher standard of behavior. Latino Catholics have always looked for a higher standard of behavior in their priests, even if they have not always found it. For them, once you stand as an official of the church, the sacred oils and your public vows remind every-one of their quest as God's people not only to be good but to become holy. How priests act, then, either fosters the destiny of every human being to be with God, or under-mines it. Not only should a priest behave well, but he should avoid even the appearance of impropriety. He should not only practice the evangelical counsels of pov-erty, chastity, and obedience, but also be careful to witness to them. The Latino culture in the barrio, as a culture that invests greatly in role models, looks to its priests as models of a higher standard of ethical action, noble aspi-ration, and devotion to God, giving themselves and others the hope that their quest for holiness is not illusory. 6. Respeta al papa. / Speak respecqCully of your brother priests and the magisterial church. The high value the Latino culture puts on family life spills over into the way they see the church, their "other family"--many barrio parishio- Latino Catholics have always looked for a higher standard of behavior in their priests, even if they have not always found it. 66.4 2007 Martinez * Priesthood 101: Lessons from a Barrio ners attest to this and live it every day. And, just as with family loyalties, priests owe. fidelity to their brother priests and to the authority of the episcopacy, especially the Holy Father. Personally and socially identifying with the struc-tures of the church, they expect their priests to uphold those structures in a world where their other cultural structures are confusing, embattled, problematic, mocked, absent, or in disarray. While certainly open to dialogue, the Latino people are never open to disrespect. These axioms may need to be further nuanced, and others may be desirable. But, from my experiences and conversations with the people I served in a barrio, these are the lessons I have learned so far. My experience in other parishes across the United States has shown that these expectations are not limited to barrio Latinos or even Latinos in general. They cross cultural and genera-tional lines. I have read that Latino immigrant experience seems quite similar to that of Irish immigrants in earlier years. If Latin Americans will make up the majority of the Catholic Church in the United States by 2020, then I, for one, had better pay more attention to what they expect of their priests. I should pay more attention to.just what these "practical theologians from below" really are saying, so as to serve them and the church more faithfully. On a certain Sunday a while ago, I invited all those who had unbaptized newborns up to the altar for a special blessing. I would offer.the babies up to God by holding them over the altar. The first one was the child of the mother who had approached me and given me my first lesson in Priesthood 101, a course many other teachers added to later. As I held the baby up, the congregation erupted in a thunderous applause. To my mind, they were recognizing that, while I was young and foolish, with their help I just might make a decent priest after all. Review for Religious Personal and Group Reflection Questions 1. What "axioms" might I list as helps that I have learned from the people to whom I minister? 2. What experience have I had in dealing with people from other ethnic or cultural traditions? 3. How do I choose to grow in my ability ~o minister in Christ's name? the muted trumpet these dead will not rise to life but to an eternal dying and though they hear the trumpet blow its promise, its ringing joy, its piercing clarity, all muted distant, distorted like words heard undemoater deafness, dullness from the grave stumbling, not leaping, not smiling, shining but bitter, weeping how far away it sounds the ~nuted trmnpet Sean Kinsella 66.4 2007 MARK F. PLAUSHIN Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety Caatholic pastoral praxis during combat operations kes into account that soldiers confront situations that demand resourcefulness and optimum integration of their physical, emotional, intellectual, and spiritual selves. The soldiers' tour of duty ranges from boredom to adrenaline-pumping combat. The brutal geography saps energy and offers minimal aesthetic inspiration. In growing numbers Arabs regard Americans as occupiers, not liberators. Regardless of national goals or personal attitudes, occupiers bear the burden of proving that they are there "in the interests of the occupied. Amid all this, soldiers face the task of spiritually adapting to the experi-ence of war. Our soldiers are spiritual; many are Catholic; they will face a cycle of deployments in the years ahead. It is appropriate, then, that Catholic chaplains foster a spiri-tuality that mitigates the anxieties which stem from war Mark E Plaushin OSFS has served in the Army for twenty-two years as an infantry officer and a cultural affairs officer and as a chaplain with two tours in the Middle East. He is now Senior Catholic Chaplain at Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington. His address is 721 Lawrence Street, N.E.; Washington, D.C. 20017. Review for Religious so that an authentic and devout life can flourish. Salesian spirituality can help maintain and/or restore spiritual resilience, a sense of self that serves survival and can serve transitions out of combat situations. I am convinced that soldiers can put the experience of war into their own faith story without yielding to two dangerous extremes: despair as articulated in Anthony Swoford's Jarhead and hubris as trumpeted in Stephen Mansfield's The Faith of the American Soldier. Catholic praxis demands balance and perspective. War is evil and unequivocally antithetical to authentic living. On the other hand, despair is not a worthy response to it, for God's grace overcomes evil and restores human flourishing. Anthony Swoford paints a despairing picture of war's impact on the human person. A veteran of the First Gulf War, he grieves over his shared responsibility in the death of several Iraqi soldiers. The story of their anonymous deaths is told in the context of his dark experience as a Marine and is saturated with unrelenting cynicism and unyielding hopelessness. It is indicative of a malnour-ished spiritual life, but is nonetheless an important spiri-tual manifesto. He offers savvy warning about those who come home from war and tell "what they call good news, the good news about war and warriors." The truth is that war is not good news. Swoford writes: I am entitled to despair over the likelihood of further atrocities . In crowded rooms and walking the streets of our cities, I am alone and full of despair, and while sitting and writing, I am alone and full of despair--the same despair that impelled me to write this book, a quiet scream from a buried coffin. Dead, dead, my scream. What did I hope to gain? More bombs are coming. Dig your holes with the hands God gave you. (Anthony Swoford, Jarhead [New York: Scribner, 2003], p. 254) Inspired, Swoford's message is strapped for evidence of a God who loves and heals. Many have been exposed to 66.4 2007 Plausbin ¯ Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety Many military Catholics, no different than their civilian friends, lack a substantive spirituality combat and have experienced spiritual restoration. They celebrate successfully God's love for them and put war in the larger and rich picture of how God is at work in the world even as we grieve over war's sorrows. Though I mourn Swoford's despair, Stephen Mansfield's thesis is more of a problem. Recounting an experience of young Marines praying before a mission in Iraq, he writes: "They know there is a spiritual-ity to war, that warriors should trust in something beyond themselves to be of any use. So in the bar-rens of Iraq they build an altar of faith and ask their God to make them the war-riors he has called them to be.''~ Mansfield argues for a "faith-based warrior code.''2 Warriors must trust in some-thing greater than themselves, but Mansfield claims that soldiers "have been given no code, no moral or spiritual framing for the profession they now find themselves in or the war they now face death to win.''3 It is unfortunate that many soldiers do not own their faith and make it their own, even though the "code" already exists in the gospel and its message is right there in our traditions. Many military Catholics, no different than their civilian friends, lack a substantive spirituality. Though Mansfield offers insight into the shortcomings of religious support on the battlefield, he seems to celebrate war as a spiritual act. While he captures the elegant dilemma of millen-nial Christians serving in the armed forces, he deifies the American Christian soldier as righteous by virtue of his or her identity as such. Like all gospels of prosperity, this theory suffers from Gnostic influence, Review for Religious Swoford experiencing spiritual anemia and Mansfield a spiritual hubris are inadequate responses to soldiers whose anxieties undermine their spiritual health. Warriors are spiritual, not because they embrace a cult, but when they focus on their essential vocation of self-gift. The Catholic chaplain can offer a spirituality that neither embraces despair nor trumpets war. We are authentic neither in despairing nor in dancing, but in an acceptance of God's love and in our sequent resolution to embrace him and those he sends into our lives. The Gospel amid War's Anxiety The tactical dynamic--compounded by numbing rep-etition, interaction with an ambivalent and unpredictable indigenous population, and an uncertain sense of contrib-uting to a limited national victory--tends toward exhaus-tion of soldier resilience. Numbers of troops leave the desert emotionally, physically, and/or spiritually depleted. Many pursue the task of recovery, conscious and appre-ciative of personal and professional resources available to them. Others struggle on their own to regain their poise or their passion for life, only to feel personal defeat and exhibit an unhealthy sense of self. Even those who recover often suffer personal and professional setbacks. Given these circumstances, those who command troops and those who give troops pastoral care face a multiform threat to their well-being. Military decision making is incomplete if it does not mitigate risk in its varied forms. Yet commanders and troops know that risk attends even routine operations. We also know that, when soldiers are led by capable and honest leaders, receive challenging and realistic training, and have strong morale in units with a tested esprit de corps, they will face any threat and level of risk. Further, these warriors are more likely to survive war and help 361 66.4 2007 Plausbin * Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety 362] others do so. This includes setting positive conditions for recovery from the rigors of war after redeploying to the United States. All commanders want to bring their soldiers home alive and intact, and chaplains share responsibility for safe homecoming. Pastoral praxis, however, envisions more than biological survival and physical integrity. Pastoral care in the war zone, as in any apostolic setting, seeks to sustain and enhance the life of the soul. We refer to spiri-tual resilience when we reflect .on this sense of self that marks authentic lif~ in Christ. This resilience is essential to healthy personal relationships, whether one continues in a military career or returns to civilian life. Helping sol-diers keep or recover resilience means nothing less than helping them integrate their experience of war into their life's story so well that they can still or again celebrate God's love for them. This is the central task of the gospel in the war zone. The primary threat to a fighting man or woman's spiri-tual center of gravity is anxiety. Francis de Sales (1567- 1622) says, "With the single exception of sin, anxiety is the greatest evil that can happen to the soul.''4 Because anxiety saps people's strength, they have a diminished capacity for resisting temptation arid practicing acquired virtues.5 The practice of virtue is the life of charity, the organization of people's lives toward God. Devotion is superabundant charity. Charity is the archetype virtue and accommodates all other virtues to a person's state in life.6 Francis cor-relates the disabling of virtue with greater susceptibility to temptation. This "disabling" is the organization of self toward someone or something other than God. This has an effect on .the soldier, his unit, and military operations. Contrasting abuse of prisoners with a pro-fessional way of handling them can demonstrate this. A sergeant who captured a few insurgents after they had Review for Religious ambushed and killed three of his fellow soldiers told me, "Sir, I just wanted to kill them all, but I knew it was the w.rong thing to do." Such conduct is an example of the resilience soldiers need to navigate difficult moral deci-sion points correctly, with integrity. Each armed service promotes virtue through core values.7 The cultivation of these values, from basic entry training through retirement, is essential to the spiritual fitness that characterizes - good soldiering and a ful-filling career. The battle-field minister, proffering Salesian spirituality as a practical illumination of the gospel, understands that the life of charity demanded by the gospel is prerequisite to, and fruit of, a healthy spiritual life. Anxiety, on - the other hand, is a spiritual pathology: it degrades spiri-tual health. It is a disordered desire to be free of an evil or to acquire some good.8 This contributes to disorgani-zation of the individual's personal resources--not least of which is a positive sense of self. Let us see how anxiety enters the soul. When .our soul perceives it has suffered an evil, it is dislSleased. This displeasure, which we call sadness, is naturally something we want to be relieved of as soon as possible. But why do we seek relief?. De Sales suggests two answers that determine our spiritual deportment. One, the soul seeks relief out of love for God and for a better .relationship with God. Remembering all the good things God has given, the soul is patient if relief from sadness does not ,come quicldy.9 It depends on God's providence rather than its own effort,l° The primary threat to a fighting man or woman's spiritual center of gravity is anxiety. 66.4 2007 Plausbin ¯ Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety Alternatively, the soul seeks relief out of self-love.~t In this spiritual estrangement, the soul relies on its own effort. It has an inadequate awareness or no awareness of God seeking a loving relationship. In this case, all other goods, whether people or things, are either grasped or discarded without reference to God or his purpose. This is a poor use of personal freedom. It is not uncommon for such a distressed person to make inappropriate choices regarding sexual behavior, substance abuse, and even vio-lence. The soul feels overwhelmed, inadequate, or inau-thentic, and a God who has a personal interest in them seems unimaginable. 36-4 Spiritual Resilience Spiritual resilience is diminished when there is no sense of God's providence--ttiat is, how God is "orga-nized" toward our completion.12 De Sales notes that anxi-ety breeds impatience and agitation. The soul "will excite and wear itself out in a search for escape," producing a cycle of sadness--anxiety--sadness--anxiety, which is "extremely dangerous.".~3 The soul's desire to be free of evil or to acquire some good is not misplaced. God is good and has imbued in us the instinct for good. But anxiety dis--orders our rela-tionship with God and others. It distorts the individual's understanding of the good and the way to achieve it. An anxious soldier may stop eating, become sleepless, and act angrily. Although none of these behaviors are good, the soldier adopts them as if they are good. His disordered view of the good leads to harmful action or neglect. A soldier thus weakened may fail when lives are at risk. If injury or death results, this leads to a crash of self-esteem, a spiritual and emotional crisis. Every mission in the combat zone, without excep-tion, calls for a wearying intensity that creates a taut- Rev&w for Religious bow effect. Archers with arrows always notched hold their bow under constant tension. Such tension is not eased until one is within the perimeter of a friendly camp. Even then mortar and rocket attacks, or bombs borne by per-sons or vehicles, may cause a constant wariness.14 Keep a bow too taut for too long and you may be too numb to act quickly; not keep it taut and you may be too late. The tension is compounded by months in hostile terri-tory where attacks are inevitable somewhere. The soldier's risk of casualty is an anxiety that is not shared in our civilian community. Let me suggest four themes based on my experience. Interestingly, it is not death that soldiers always fear most. (1) When we left an operati[ag base to make sense of the stirred-up population, superheated weather, and the mystery that is Iraq, I made an act of contrition. Because I do nbt carry a weapon and my bodyguard and teammates did, I often did the driving so their hands were free to fire their weapons. I prayed that if attacked I would react as rehearsed--facilitating our escape or the enemy's destruc-tion. I reviewed our plan, our first-aid procedures, and the radio procedures for calling in a medical-evacuation heli-copter (MEDEVAC). I thought through situations that might require these skills while simultaneously comforting the dying, administering the sacrament of the sick, or honoring the dead. In short, I asked God to strengthen me so that I would not let my buddies down. This concern motivated us to know our jobs, rehearse our mission, and stay in shape. Despite the self-confidence that comes from good planning, tough training, and solid leadership, an error in judgment or even a brief moment of cowardice could jeopardize others. (2) My fear of letting others down was an anxiety miti-gated by experience, training, practiced communication, and common-sense leadership. On the other hand, the fear of being maimed offered few practical remedies. The 66.4 2007 Plaushin ¯ Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety Another ground for anxiety is the fear leaders share in ordering others into combat. odd thought crossed my mind that losing one eye would not be too bad, but losing both would be worse than death. If it were a choice between losing an arm, a leg, my genitals, or some horrendous combination of these, I prayed for a quick death and one that would precede incineration in the burning fuel and exploding ordinance of my vehicle. Some risks seemed remote and conjured little anxiety. For instance, death itself or capture by a sword-wielding fanatic seemed unlikely to me; for others, such thoughts provoked concern. (3) Another ground for anxiety is the fear leaders share in ordering others into combat. Leaders up and down the chain of command balance concern for their troops with mission accomplishment. Senior officers must trust their juniors to lead, knowing mistakes and losses are inevitable; this is necessary to their maturing. (4) Anxiety also stems from separations within families. No matter how solid a relationship may be, it will be chal-lenged by fear of loss. Although digitalization has enhanced rapid and continuing communication, distance and absence increase fears by not enabling family members to embrace. Numerous counseling sessions confirm that e-mail and the telephone are two-edged swords. They allow an exchange, of information but do not permit the quality communication essential to intimacy. In fact, too much information can be transmitted, causing dis-traction and stirring up anxiety until reunion is achieved. But reunion itself also causes tension. Only by managing expectations and integrating the experience of the military deployment into the family's story will the family flourish. Review for Religious The issues above cause soldiers both appropriate concern and grist for anxiety. By "appropriate concern" I mean a savvy appreciation of the risks along with con-fidence in God's providence. Where concern has been displaced by anxiety, however, there is need for healing. A Salesian method can be summarized in three stages. (1) Challenge the soldiers to identify and describe the sorrow that burdens them. (2) Aid them in consciously turning their sorrow over to God's providential care. (3) Encourage them to experience the devout life as compat-ible with soldiering. War as the Source of Sorrow Recall that anxiety is a disordered attempt to free the soul of sorrow. Many soldiers identify the root sorrow in their soul incorrectly. They report as source what is actu-ally a presenting issue. The marriage may be in trouble, the children may be acting out, a friend may have been wounded, she may have been attacked, together they may have killed a combatant or noncombatant, or some other combination of things common to soldiering may have been experienced. Yet, as tragic as all of these may be, they veil the source. Our original misuse of free will has left us flawed and in search of authenticity. When we experience anxiety fed by fear of letting buddies down, physical trauma, leading others into harm's way, suffering a ruined relationship, or anything else, we experience sorrow that stems from our incompleteness. We grieve oversuffering a loss or anticipating one. War stirs up a profound awareness of this inadequacy--our inability to control the events, cir-cumstances, and conditions that can destroy us or those we love and the things we value. While war can be legiti-mized and even benefit the community, it is inherently destructive of the human person. Even winning does not 66.4 2007 Plaushin * Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety make us more complete, more fulfilled, or more human since war's brutality exhausts our intellect, emotions, physical being, and spiritual life. God responds to this suffering by providing the grace which completes us. This redemptive work helps us weave the experience of war into the cloth of our personal story and celebrate God's reconciliation. The role of Salesian spirituality is to promote indefatigable optimism in this process and in the human person. Many soldiers who receive God's grace do respond to his presence. They are resilient, and they integrate their experience into their life's story. This being said, an authentic response to war begins with experiencing it as miserably depleting. This either turns us inward or toward God and those wonderful others he sends to us. This brings us back to De Sales's observation that sorrow arises from either a love of God or a disordered love of self. If we see only our own selves as necessary and sufficient to make us complete, we set the stage for anxiety and the consequent disordering of our lives. If, however, we acknowledge our incompleteness and see God as the one who can make us complete, we live well.~5 We cooperate with the Father who makes good our deficiencies through the grace of Jesus Christ. Yet all disciples stand in a gap between possessing Christ and possessing fullness in Christ. This is our root sorrow. Because we do not yet possess this fullness, we hold on to the good things God gives us: Though they cannot complete us, we understandably hold on to them as evidence of his love and we fear losing them. And our fear of losing them is aggravated in the brutality and uncertainty of the war zone. Diminishment of spiritual integrity and peace sterriS from this, from an event that is disordered, dehumanizing, and destructive in its nature. The resilience to address this lack of fullness is fos-tered by grace, which in turn is characterized by a life Review for R~eligious organized for union with God. It begins with encourage-ment to consciously recognize and describe the sorrow war places on the soldier's heart--this lack of fullness, adequacy, or completeness. This is validated in confession, counseling, and group process.16 Thus a person learns to engage the dilemma of discipleship in the "valley of the shadow of death.''17 Turning War's Sorrow Over to the Father's Care Once the soldier is conscious of the sorrow stemming from the experience of war, has enumerated her palpable concerns, and has been validated, it is appropriate to chal-lenge her to turn her sorrow over to God's providential care. If she is aware that only union with God brings com-pleteness, how will she organize her personal resources to turn toward God? Salesian spirituality, like all spiritualities, explicates the gospel so disciples can adapt it to their circumstances. It provides a way of responding in a particular way to the gift of Jesus' life for us. Let us highlight ways Salesian spirituality contributes to a healthy sense of self and a proper ordering of self toward God. In his Introduction Francis de Sales treats this search for authenticity, reflecting on the disciple's "devout life," defined as a careful, frequent, and prompt response to God's love.18 This love or grace is God's relentless pres-ence wherein he offers redemption in eucharistic life. Here Jesus feeds, teaches, heals, and forgives. Soldiers who receive this grace and explore the force of war on the soul are ready to turn their sorrow over to the Father at this time and place. De Sales's guidance helps here with humility and gen-tleness. His own humble and meek lifestyle resulted in these virtues becoming synonymous with his spiritual leg-acy. Optimism, too, is present in the "gentleman saint's" 66.4 2007 Plaushin ¯ Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety spiritual patrimony. Under the master virtue of devotion, humility, gentleness, and optimism are the virtues essen-tial to a balanced, authentic response to war. The humble, gentle, and optimistic soldier is oriented toward the God who is ready to heal her in a life-sustaining embrace. This is God's gift of reconciliation, which is Jesus Christ. Jesus' continuous gift of self promotes spiritual resilience and our vocation of self-gift. Practicing these and other virtues is incarnafional and eucharistic. Jesus, real God and real man, who really died on the cross and really rose from the dead, really walks among his people now in our eucharistic life, evidenced in a consistent, evolving, sagacious communion with God in personal prayer. This communion is essential to our disposition because it is the place for turning the sor-rows of war over to the Father. The warrior is encouraged to pursue a way of discipleship that includes a lifetime encounter with word and sacrament in communion fel-lowship. Healing comes by placing oneself in the presence of God's grace in these ways. The devout life is a viable response to war and the means for placing its burden into God's providential care. The Soldier's Devout Life De Sales published the Introduction in 1609, in a Europe that was conflicted. The Protestant and Catholic Reformations spawned persecution, acrimony, and armed conflict. Intertwined with the evolving Reformation, competing visions for political, religious, and economic society contributed to wars between sovereignties then turning into modern nation-states. Interregional conflict shaped a complex and volatile international system, com-pounded by Islam's advance in the East through conquest, coercion, and cultural assimilation.~9 Francis was well respected, and many sought his coun- Review for Religious sel. Though not an army chaplain, he was known to polit-ical and military figures, and he faced rigorous service during the Catholic Reformation. During his 1594 mis-sion into Calvinist Chablais near Lake Geneva, he "lived in a fortress garrisoned by the Duke of Savoy's soldiers [and] worked to some extent under their protection in conditions of intolerable hardship and poverty, ridiculed, persecuted, attacked even physically, saying Mass day by day in icy, half-ruined churches, preaching to empty pews.''2° His pastoral paradigm serves us well. De Sales's approach was to consistendy and construc-tively engage those whose anxiety affected their self-worth or preempted their awareness of God. The Introduction guides readers from their initial desire to live the devout life through a full resolution to continue it no matter what. He offers insights into how this resolve is nour-ished by prayer and sacraments, by the practice of virtue, by turning from temptation, and by renewing their com-mitment. His concept of devotion is robust--even athletic. He uses phrases such as "spiritual agility and vivacity" and discusses devotion as a spiritual fire that "bursts into flames.''2~ Its appeal rests in the celebration of the voca-tion of charity which we all share, soldiers included. It is a vocation that places suffering in the context of our story. This is clear in his "purgative,' meditations. One that is meaningful to the soldier is "The Fifth Meditation--On Death." He writes: Consider the uncertainty of the day of your death. O my soul, thou must one day quit this body. When will it be? In a town or in the country? In the day or in the night? Will it be without warning or with warning? Will it be the result of disease or of some accident? Wilt thou have time to confess or not? Wilt thou be assisted by thy confessor and spiritual Father? Alas! We know nothing at all about these things. We only know 66.4 2007 Plausbin ¯ Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety The soldier's vocation is one of preparation, readiness, and especially action, even in the midst of uncertainty. 372 that we shall die, and always sooner than we expect.22 The warrior is near death, and it is unrealistic to imagine the situation on the battlefield otherwise, but anxiety is displaced by reflection on our vulnerability in the context of final fulfillment in the Father. The soldier's vocation is one of preparation, readiness, and especially action, even in the midst of uncertainty. Action is emphasized because superabundant char-ity is the action of God's incarnate love. Thr.ough the Holy Spirit, in the Body of Christ, we are Jesus' heal-ing presence. The vocation of charity is our response to God's incarnate gift of reconciliation and encompasses our state in life. It is a way of being in the world modeling Jesus' own vocation of self-gift. This pro-vides a healthy con-text for suffering. For the soldier, suffering while courageously doing one's duty is an indicator of spiritual resilience. Francis writes: "Among these devout people those who suffer afflictions are not overconcerned about their sufferings and never lose courage. To con-clude, look upon the eyes of the Savior who comforts them, and see how all of them together aspire to him.''2~ De Sales sees prayer and sacramental encounter as the center of the devout life. God pours upon us the grace to live the vocation of charity whereby we order ourselves toward him and others. This ordering occurs in prayer and sacrament, which are places for our spiritual transi-tion. In these places we move from our incompleteness to being filled by God's goodness. Francis emphasizes this Review for Religious when he writes, "We must pause here, Philothea [which means "soul that loves God], and I assure you that we can-not go to God the Father except through this gate.''24 When using phrases like God's grace, I mean God's presence. He is the gift that "orders" us through his teach-ing, feeding, forgiving, and healing. Thus De Sales intro-duces one of the most powerful exercises in the Salesian repertoire--calling to mind God's presence. While we may intellectually acknowledge that presence, we may not take it to heart and thus be more anxious than attentive to what is required of us in any particular time or place.2s The importance of this is found in a special vision soldiers cultivate and which we call "situational aware-ness." It signifies contextual vision because fear narrows vision and we lose our sense of the peripheral. Salesian disciples seek God as manifest in the world--even on the battlefield. Soldiers recount how, despite loss and suffer-ing, "some little thing" restored their vision of God as present and rekindled their efforts to feed, teach, heal, and forgive. This grace does not originate in a God who sits outside of our reality and to whom we nod in defer-ence from afar, but a real someone who chooses to walk with us in the dust and blast, and to break the bread with us. The devout life improves this eucharistic vision. Our response to this presence is a virtuous life, and De Sales teaches: "All men should possess all the virtues, yet all are not bound to exercise them in equal measure. Each person must practice in a special manner the virtues needed by the kind of life he is called to.''26 For example, patience and chastity are virtues pertinent to a warrior. This promotes union with God and turning away from things that distract us from him. One of the most practical sections of the Introduction is Francis's treatment of temptation. In a world where risk and consequence attend choice, the optimum opera- 66.4 2007 Plausbin * Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety tion of free will is anxiety free. Our choices are grounded in a self-concept that models Jesus' own integration of his physical, emotional, intellectual, and spiritual compo-nents. This appeals to soldiers because Francis's anthro-pology respects our potential for giving God glory in the day-to-day effort to "be all that we can be." The devout life is appropriate for the soldier and sets conditions for lessening or getting rid of anxieties that may afflict those who serve in combat. In this freedom, soldiers can recover spiritual resilience and refresh the imprint of the gospel in their hearts. Humility, Hope, and Providence Stephen Mansfield and Anthony Swoford's books are deficient in humility and hope, respectively. Catholic war-riors need a spirituality which helps them adapt the gospel to their lives' circumstances, not a Christocentric warrior's code. More, they must become free of anxiety, which is spiritually toxic and replaces eucharistic relationships with narcissism. If unchecked, it diminishes the capacity to deal in a healthy way with war and postconflict transitions, because these events are not put in the context of one's faith journey. The ability to celebrate Godat work in the world is disabled, as evident in Swoford's biography. Salesian spirituality builds and sustains a spiritual resilience which mitigates anxiety. It supports conscious articulation of the sorrow that war imposes on the heart and consistent turning of this sorrow over to God's providence. It reinforces commitment to the vocation of devotion that is practical and useful for Catholics on the battlefield and throughout the war zone. This spirituality celebrates the optimism, humility, gentleness, and super-abundant charity that characterize God's incarnate healing presence--Jesus Christ, Prince of Peace. Review for Religious Notes * Stephen Mansfield, The Faith of the American Solider (London: Penguin Books), p. 175. 2 Mansfield, The Faith, p. 157. 3 Mansfield, The Faith, p. 142. 4 De Sales, Introduction to the Devout Life, trans, and ed. John K. Ryan (New York: Image Books, 1972), p. 251. See Col 3:14, wherein love's relationship to other virtues is stressed. 5 De Sales, Introduction, pp. 251-252. 6 De Sales, Introduction, pp. 121-122. 7 The Catechism of the Catholic Church defines virtue as the "habitual and firm disposition to do good" (§1803). The use of the word "value" in the armed services corresponds to this--Army: loy-alty, duty, respect, selfless service, honor, integrity, and personal cour-age; Navy and Marine Corps: honor, courage, and commitment; Coast Guard: honor, respect, and devotion to duty; Air Force: integrity first, service before self, and excellence in all we do. 8 De Sales, Introduction, p. 252. 9 De Sales, Introduction, p. 251. ,0 De Sales, Introduction, p. 251. ~* De Sales, Introduction, p. 251. ,2 1 have in mind the "the economy of salvation." Providence is this effort on our behalf culminating in the incarnation. "The promise made to Abraham inaugurates the economy of salvation, at the culmination of which the Son himself will assume that 'image' and restore it in the Father's 'likeness' by giving it again its Glory, the Spirit who is 'the giver of life.'" Catechism of the Catholic Church, §705. ,3 De Sales, Introduction, p. 251. '4 Insurgents fired rocket-propelled grenades (RPGs), albeit poorly aimed, into an area of our forward-operating base (FOB) through which we had mapped a favorite running route. Our intelligence officer rec-ommended we increase our pace in that sector. Everyone chuckled-- "sort off" ~s A theme in Augustine's Confessions: "You stir man to take pleasure in praising you, because you have made us for yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in you." Confessions, trans. Henry Chadwick (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991), p. 3. See also Psalm 62:2. 16 After Iraq's "capitulation" in 2003, I heard confessions of troops transitioning home. Penitents and I were in tears, moved by the events these good men endured. 375 66.4 2007 Plaushin * Salesian Spirituality and Stemming Combat Anxiety 17 Psalm 23:4 (King James Bible). ,8 De Sales, Introduction, p. 40. ,9 The Battle of Lepanto stemmed the Ottoman advance in 1571. Francis was four. ~0 Elisabeth Stopp, A Man to Heal Differences: Essays and Talks on St. Francis de Sales (Philadelphia: St. Joseph's University Press, 1998), p. 4. This is similar to the experience of Catholic chaplains operating today out of FOBs. 2'De Sales, Introduction, pp. 40-41. 22 De Sales, Introduction, p. 60. 23 De Sales, Introduction, p. 70. 24 De Sales, Introduction, p. 81. 2s De Sales, Introduction, p. 84. 26 De Sales, Introduction, p. 122. Reflective Questions for Personal and Group Use How would I share my spirituality as a help to someone in military service? Does my lived spirituality have an effect on how I deal with anxiety? How would I see Plaushin's approach to a spirituality responding to military combat affec~:ing the way I live my spiritual life in my given circumstances? 376 Review for Religious CAROLYN HUMPHREYS Contemplative Gifts We need not live in the desert or dwell in a monastery in order to live contemplatively. Not so surprisingly, there are people in deserts and in monasteries who are not contemplatives, and people in the inner city and in prisons who are very contemplative. Living contemplatively is a way of being alive that resembles a continuous quiet flame in a world darkened by sin. The light does not shine by our doing something or making something happen. We cannot do contemplation or make it happen. Rather, we let it happen in us by graces from God. A contemplative orientation to life is an exquisite gift to us from God. This gift comes in many forms and ways. We guard and nour-ish what we receive by a manner of living that is rooted in humility. When we open contem-plative gifts with care and treasure their con- Carolyn Humphreys OCDS, a registered occupational therapist, last wrote for us in early 2004. She produces a four-page quarterly, Mary's Garden, from 7101 E. Rosecrans Avenue, #159; Paramount, California 90723; U.S.A. prayer in our life 1377 66.4 2007 Humpbreys ¯ Contemplative Gifts 378 tents, we find we are no better or holier than anyone else. Rather, we are one with all wounded and sinful humanity. When we perceive all humanity as equal, there is no incli-nation to feel greater or lesser than those of another race, nationality, religion, or ability. This manner of living is a great gift indeed. This self-knowledge is a dear teacher. It is present in all contemplative awareness. This inner knowledge tells us that we are the ones responsible for our feelings, behavior, and actions. To avoid blaming or projecting our negativity on others is a sound step forward on the contemplative path. Cooperation with .God's still small voice within gives us wisdom greater than our own, and thereby keeps inap-propriate comments about others in check. Self-knowl-edge does not occur without common sense. Common sense tells us many things. People who are levelheaded are more apt to keep confidences than those who engage in frivolous or malicious gossip. Individuals who know their true selves are humble and are serious about stay-ing away from negative influences. We ask God that we may be receptive when he reveals us to ourselves. This is a courageous prayer, because such self-knowledge is hard to take. We grow spiritually, however, by learning more about ourselves through being receptive to grace in whatever form it takes. When self-knowledge increases, we are able to live in God's presence more fully. We live in the presence of God when we have the ability to discern his presence within us and around us. Our lives are quite ordinary, but we notice the extraordi-nary in our days. God is at the kitchen stove, office desk, and bathroom sink. We recognize his presence, and so we are fully attentive to What is in the present moment. We recognize the level of our ability to love when we seem empty of love, when we seem full of love, and at all levels in between. ,Together with our level of ability to love, we Reviezv for Religious acknowledge our ever present need for God's grace, and acknowledge that our thirst for God is never quenched. Living in God's presence helps us let go of concerns during our daily prayer so we can simply be present to his life and love. No matter how much we have to do, it is not what we do, - but who we are, that defines us as unique persons. If all we do is "do," we can eas-ily destroy the reality of who we are in the sight of God. Doing things well is not a substitute for well --- being. Finding our identity in the many things we do can detract from who we really are as humble persons in the light of God's love. If we keep our eyes open and focus on gospel teach-ing when we pray, we gradually learn to see the world with the eyes of Christ. No longer do we walk around in a befuddled state, or tend to our duties in a preoccupied way. Our heads are neither in the clouds nor in the sand. We concentrate on, and respond to, that which goes on within and around us at the moment, in the light of God's love. This orientatioh enables us to go beyond the obvi-ous and look for what cannot be seen, such as inner hurts, hopes, unspoken needs and dreams. A contemplative way of being is evident in an out-look on life that influences our behavior with the positive, affirming, loving transcendence of God. This transcen-dence bonds the infinite goodness of God with the finite people and things of earth. In our day it is a continual challenge to maintain such an outlook. We are limited beings, and the temptation to deny, regress, or avoid con- If alt we do :is "do," we can easily destroy the reality of who we are in the sight of God. 379 66.4 2007 Humphreys ¯ Contemplative Gifts 380 flictive or derogatory thoughts always seems to be with us. In a contemplative way of being, however, we face the reality of these thoughts with honesty and courage. This helps us become more loving. It takes work, though, and a resistance to self-indulgence. If we look as objectively as we can at the opposing aspects of our daily choices, we step away from whatever causes negativism or self-absorp-tion. We move forward to what gives us a clearer perspec-tive on the possible results of our choices. To find beauty in the broken places and troubled areas of our lives is a constant component of our contemplative gifts. In doing this, we look at what is in our hands and hearts and find peace instead of turbulence. The more we are sustained by our trust in God, the easier we find him in all that passes in and out of our hands and our lives. We see Jesus more clearly as our minds become free of rejections and afflictions. We sit down, sit still, and really listen to the still small voice of God. Only with the passing of time, and the help from grace, do we become more alert to the world within us. We must be watchful because this world is easily obscured by the world outside us. Through the energy of grace, the effects of contem-plative gifts flow from the inside out. The degree of our awareness of these gifts develops in concurrence with many factors. We are fascinated by how God works in ourselves and in others. Seeing God thusly liberates us from interrupting people with trivial incidents concern-ing ourselves. We listen to others with an open heart and mind by focusing on them. We are aware of what they are saying, how they are saying it, and what their behav-ior reveals. Learning when to talk and when to be quiet refines our humility. The more we seek God, the more our self-absorption diminishes. A marker of our seeking is the sparing use of sentences containing the words 1, me, or my. There is no burning need to prove our point, Review for Religious manifest our intelligence, proclaim our opinion, or prate about our experiences. When we are seeking God, we respectfully listen to what people tell us and refrain from forming our responses or nourishing our prejudices while they are talking. We listen as a friend or confidant rather than as an adversary or advisor. Silence Is Golden Love for silence is a contemplative gift. Silence becomes a gem that is sought, treasured, and reverenced. To be comfortable with the silence of God, of others, and of ourselves is rare and beautiful. Silence nurtures us far more than we will ever understand. It becomes the primary way in which we grow in love. In the early stages we discover the many ways in which love can be posses-sive or self-centered. When we observe quietly, we may see people using others as objects of pleasure or using them to complete their character by filling their needs and inadequacies. We realize that no one should be used as an object or extension of someone else. Our silence enables us to be signs for others of God's presence and peace, even when life's storms come our way. During disturbing times we use silence to think things through before taking action. We are not overwhelmed by all that we have to do. We break down large, intimidating, time-consuming tasks into manageable segments. We han-dle them one hour at a time. These periods then resemble stepping stones across a river. We give our attention to one stone at a time. In doing so, we are on the other side of the river before we know it. If we do not keep our con-centration on the stone at hand, we may slip and fall in. Or, if we do not even attempt the first stone, we will end up finding a longer, harder way to get across. Taking life one step at a time gives us time to visit our inner sanctuary, our place of. rest. After we finish 381 66.4 2007 Humpbreys ¯ Contemplative Gifts Taking life one step at a time gives us time to visit our inner sanctuary, our place of rest. 382 one thing and before we start another, we can rest in our sanctuary and think deep, serious, playful, or lightsome thoughts. A better option is just to gaze quietly upon the heart of Christ. Like crossing the river, we move toward God small step by small step. We move onward inch by inch rather than waste time on hurry, or worry about the pile of work ahead of us. When God becomes our primary reality, many positive things happen to us. All that seemed important before God entered our lives takes on an insig-nificance that truly surprises us. To be faithful to the contemplative way when the going gets rough takes patience and fortitude. The con-templative way is manifest in the tranquillity of order. The more our lives are centered on Jesus, the more these traits will develop: we pray consistently, eat moderately, dress modestly, exercise appropriately, use money wisely, speak quietly, and treat others with dignity. We spend our leisure time in carefree activities, and read and use the media in ways that instruct or uplift. Our homes are simple and cozy. We conduct ourselves well and deal with our family and others with respect and grace. Rather than grumble, we do something about what causes a com-plaint. We work with concentration and good humor. Our motives are clear and direct. The quality of each day is more important than the quantity of things we do or the places we go. In dark times we may not understand what is happening, but somehow we know God is there. We trust in God and hope for the best. Indeed, there are Review for Religious many times when we lose a treasure only to find a greater treasure or lose our way only to find God's way. The contemplative way is mostly a way of silence and darkness. We want to speak about God, but we realize that images,' analogies, and words fall short. Nothing we can say seems adequate. Words are a hindrance because, although we ardently seek God, we can never really find him. If we think we have found God in our words and definitions, it is not really God, but only our own fal-tering concept about God, who is all mystery. We never fully grasp who God is. We move toward God with open hearts in the silent night. We move ahead wordless in the unknown but holy darkness. Even though God is beyond all mere human thoughts or definitions, we persevere in communing with him through prayer. It is our lifeline. To a contemplative, prayer is as important and as natural as a heart beating. Prayer is the energy that makes our spiritual lives go, and the rock that never lets us give up hope. In the inner atmosphere of prayer, we are one with God and all cre-ation. Awareness of this unity with all is at a deeper level of consciousness than that of normal life. A contempla-tive outlook is one of continual spiritual wonder. There is an awe at the sacredness of all life, which reflects the love that flows from the S6urce of life. A contemplative outlook sees without seeing, in a profound depth of faith, and knows without knowing, in knowledge too deep to understand. We know God to the extent that we are invis-ibly touched by him who has no hands. To know this is to awaken to him who is the most real. We realize God's tre-mendous love and respond to it from our deepest depths. To become all that God meant us to be is to find our true selves in Christ. To be so in touch with what is truly real lets the authenticity of our lives reach out and touch that which is most authentic in others. 66.4 2007 Humpbreys ¯ Contemplative Gifts Contemplation is a journey of love through realistic care for others. We, who are connected with all people by the strong bonds of prayer, give to them by prayer, and through the appropriate use of our talents. Yes, a con-templative way of life grows from roots in quiet prayer. Quiet prayer results in quiet listening, fine-tuned obser-vation, a giving of ourselves and a daily openness to God's mysteries and wonder. Seasoned contemplatives are well mellowed by years of quiet prayer content with mystery and wonder. They use their talents well, and are at home with themselves. The self is forgotten. Their focus on others makes their presence a transparent gift: there are no strings. The gift shows itself in people's ability to see that the givers discover, appreciate, and make wise use of the treasures hidden in everyone and everything that comes along. Being a contemplative is a never-ending liberation. We are alone but not lonely, because we are in communion with Jesus, who resides in our hearts. He is our anchor and our compass. We are one with others because we wrap them with our prayer. Other people rarely intimi-date us, because we forgive them easily and know our own unique gifts. We become more receptive, more grateful, more filled with grace. Faith is far from abstract theory; rather, it is an everyday reality sometimes shrouded in mystery. Wonder is always with us, for we look beyond appearances, set aside prejudices, and change what keeps us closed in on ourselves. As long as we move ahead, we see God in everything and thereby sense a greater unity with God who is all. As we travel on the path of love, we give away the fruits of our contemplative gifts. We also sing songs of God's love and praise, which, as Newman suggests, seem to always echo in our hearts: Review for Religious Praise to the Holiest in the height And in the depth be praise; In all his words most wonderful, Most sure in all his ways! Some Contemplative Scripture Points 1. "If you, with all your sins, know how to give your children good things, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him." Luke 11:13 2. "No one knows the Son except the Father and no one knows the Father except the Son -- and anyone to whom the Son wishes to reveal him." Luke 10:22 3. "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." 1 Co 12:4-7 66.4 2007 ELISSA RINERE Eucharist Mirrored in Religious Life T time spent in preparing this article was, quite nesdy, a personal spiritual journey. One difficulty has been that every aspect of Christian life is a reflection of the Eucharist. The Eucharist "speaks" everything. It is all-encompassing. A dilemma arises, whether to begin with some reflections on the Eucharist and then find reli-gious life within them, or begin with some reflections on religious life and then come to a focus on the Eucharist. One author I read stated the situation very well. Eucharist implies coherence: it brings all the disparate elements of the church into unity, tending to one end, one goal, one truth.~ Religious life finds its coherence here. In canon law the Eucharist has different aspects: the celebration of the Mass, the sacrament to be received, and the sacrament reserved in a tabernacle for adoration. We can consider what these three aspects might mean in relation to our way of life in the church. Elissa Rinere CP, a canon lawyer, is Coordinator of Pastoral Planning and Director of the Office of Worship of the diocese of Norwich, Connecticut. Her address is 7E Westchester Hills; Colchester, Connecticut 06415. Review for Religious We begin by making two observations. First, the Eucharist is larger than religious life. The goal of being a eucharistic community is the goal of everyone who shares in the sacrament-of baptism. It is the mandate given to us in the Gospels. Second, the vision of what would be if we could give a pure response to this awesome mystery is different from the practice that we human beings come up with at various times in history. The vision is celestial and the practice is terrestrial. Our challenge is to bring these two things into harmony. The Eucharist as Celebration Yesterday. When I was in grade school (a public school), my friends and I went to Sunday Mass "religiously." We would, however, sit behind the stairs in the back of the church and have contests about who could find the old-est saint in the pages of our St. Andrew's Missals. We paid attention to Mass only at the consecration, when the bell rang. From behind the stairs we could not see the altar, but we did stop talking. No matter how poor our behavior, we were sure that we were fulfilling our Sunday obligation just by being there. The prayer belonged to the priest, and the people watched. Today. We say today that theology emphasized the "confection" of the Eucharist and now emphasizes "cel-ebration.'' 2 The most august sacrament is the Most Holy Eucharist in which Christ the Lord himself is contained, off-ered, and received and by which the church continu-ally lives and grows. The eucharistic sacrifice . . . is the summit and source of all worship; it signifies and effects the unity of the people of God and brings about the building up of the body of Christ. Indeed, the other sacraments and all the ecclesiastical works of the apostolate are closely connected with the Most Holy Eucharist and ordered to it. (Canon 897)3 66.4 2007 Rinere ¯ Eucharist Mirrored in Religious Life 388 In speaking of the Eucharist today, we would probably use the terminology of this canon, since it comes directly from the documents of Vatican Council II. The Eucharist is Christ himself. In the celebration we have the source and summit of all the church's life. That is, everything we do comes from and is brought back to the Eucharist. Every celebration is an action of the whole church. Every celebration is a sign of, and brings about, the unity of the people of God. The liturgy is the exercise, not only of the ordained priesthood, but also of the baptismal priest-hood. There was quite a journey from the focus on the confection of the Eucharist to the current focus on cel-ebration. Journey. Celebration of the Eucharist was, according to reputable authors, one of the most hotly debated top-ics of Vatican II. The manner of celebrating Eucharist is important in itself, but also because it brings a specific image of the church into existence. That is, the Eucharist is not merely a ritual; it is a creative force within the community. It is the way we express and create what we believe to be the true nature of the church. Singing our hearts out and saying the rosary fervently give different images of the church. The work of the Vatican Council to revise the cel-ebration of the Eucharist Was looked on by many as the work of the devil, an error bordering on heresy, which would destroy the church and turn us all into heretics. When the new rite of the Mass was implemented on 30 November 1969, some protesters poured red dye into fountains around Rome as a sign of mourning. "The waters of Rome run red, just as the waters of Egypt were transformed into blood" at the death of the firstborn.4 The celebration of the Eucharist became a rallying point for those opposed to the reform of the church because liturgical changes were the most obvious evi- Review for Religious dence of the reform. The council's Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy (Sacrosanctum concilium, SC) is a marvel of compromise, especially in the areas of language, music, and lay participation . Concerning language, the use of vernacular was encouraged, but Latin was to remain in use (SC §36). Forms of music other than Gregorian chant were encouraged, but Gregorian chant was to be retained (SC §116). Even the musical instruments native to a given country were to be employed, but the pipe organ was to retain "pride of place" among them (SC §120). Regarding lay participation, there was to be some dis-tribution of ministries within the liturgy. In the theology of confection, the priest functioned virtually alone. In the theology of celebration, there were to be authentic litur-gical ministries for the laity in virtue of their baptismal priesthood. This was objected to by those who feared an inappropriate equalizing of the two priesthoods, with lay ministries obscuring the "subordinate" nature of the bap-tismal priesthood. The revised liturgy was seen by many as an abuse of authority that removed from the church's faithful any obligation of obedience. The changes were described as "the tearing of the seamless robe of Christ, which is the church's unity.''s The best-known opponent of the liturgical renewal was Archbishop Marcel Lefebvre, who established the Society of St. Pius x in the 1970s. He wrote in 1974: "We close our ears to the destructive novelties now found in the church.''6 Through the pontificate of Paul VI, the liturgical renewal continued to move forward despite objections. The Eucharist is not merely a ritual; it is a creative force within the community. 66.4 2007 Rinere ¯ Eucharist Mirrored in Religious Life Later on, there were several instances of a slowing of the renewal. Some would say there has been a "pulling back" from some of the foundational principles of the reform movement. In early April 2007, an item on the Catholic News Service website announced that a policy was in the works to restore some use of the Tridentine Mass in the whole church. (It was being used only by permission of diocesan bishops.) The article said that the restoration was aimed at "ending a liturgical dispute which has simmered in the church for more than twenty years" and thus bringing greater unity. [Benedict xvI issued the document on July 7, 2007. (ed.)] Why have I brought up all this history? I did it to point out that the celebration of Eucharist--the source and summit of the church's life--has been a hotbed of controversy, not just for decades but for centuries, and that we manage to go forward only through dialogue, discus-sion, and compromise. Little by little, despite difficulties, the celebration is becoming more diverse, more incultur-ated, allowing for more and more differences of opinion. From all reports, liturgical changes will continue to be announced. Pope Benedict, in the apostolic exhortation recently published, mentions the possibility of the Sign of Peace being moved to some other spot. And, of course, there remain difficulties concerning the new translation of the Roman Missal, which is a topic for another day. Connection to Religious Life The theological vision of the Eucharist as celebration is the unity of the church. The church, of course, is all the people of God, all the baptized. For religious life, then, within this great vision is the goal of unity toward which we progress through our human practices. In contrast to the vision, ways of celebrating the Eucharist keep disturb-ing some. Forty years ago it was a tug-of-war between Review for Religious traditionals and progressives. Today a new element has been added: those who find the Eucharist unacceptably clerical, exclusionary, hierarchical, or rigid. For these peo-ple, Eucharist is often a painful experience of oppression rather than a time of prayer and unity. Hopefully they find better experiences elsewhere. All these points of view on the celebration of the Eucharist are found in some religious communities. Can Eucharist be a point of unity in them? It depends, I think, on whether people are willing to compromise for the sake of one another. This becomes, then, a question of ecclesiology. Religious life is called to be prophetic in the church. What visions of the church are present in our communi-ties? We constantly seek practices of celebration that will bring us closer to the theological vision of unity. °- Inasmuch as the practice of the Eucharist as cel-ebration has continually moved forward, has never stagnated, and has always sought better balance between conflicting prin-ciples by becoming appro-priately inclusive and diverse, it is, in my opinion, mirrored in religious life. We can see ourselves reflected in the evolu-tion, the tensions, the struggles to do the right thing. If the Eucharist is not at the heart of our unity, but rather a point of strife and division, we should discuss not the Eucharist, but rather what it means to be church, prophet, and peacemaker. Where we do not dialogue and do not discuss, compromise, forgive, and accept what we might not prefer for the sake of the common good, the Eucharist itself may not help much. Eucharist is often a painful experience of oppression :rather than a time of prayer and unity. ,391 66.4 2007 Rinere * Eucharist Mirrored in Religious Life Eucharist as Sacrament to Be Received Why discuss receiving the received Eucharist sepa-rately from celebration? Besides having some distinct characteristics, reception has undergone some signifi-cant developments. In today's theological vision, it can be described as multilevel communion: inner communion with Jesus and intercommunion with all others who share the Body and Blood of Christ. Yesterday. Those who recall the early years of the 20th century before Vatican II may have observed some people receiving Communion rather rarely. Only priests distributed Communion, and only the consecrated hosts were distributed, not the chalice with the precious Blood. Returning silently to their places in the pews, communi-cants knelt reverendy and, bowing their heads, communed adoringly with the Lord they had just received. Receiving Communion was an act of public and private devotion. Today the changes are clear. Receiving Communion is frequent. Few people stay in their places and refrain from receiving. "Extraordinary" Eucharistic ministers are com-mon. Communicants may receive in the hand or not, and Communion under both species is common. Receiving Communion is a natural consequence, of being present at the celebration. The 2002 General Instruction of the Roman Missal describes the distribution of the Eucharist as a procession in which part.icipants come forward as a community, sing, and receive Communion. Sharing in Communion is to actualize the Eucharistic community and also to foster a personal relationship with Christ. Not long afterwards the Eucharistic community is dismissed with the commission to be Eucharist to those they encoun-ter. St. Augustine is often quoted as writing "Receive who you are, and be the One you have received." The "energy" surrounding the reception of the Eucharist has changed from being personal and inward Review for Religious to being outward, communal, ministerial, and unifying. Receiving the Eucharist commissions us to inner prayer, but also to the service of others--to be bread broken. Our service of others comes from our unity in Christ. Journey. The history of the liturgical renewal focuses on practices and attitudes. In the history of the Eucharist as sacrament, the two most universally accepted innova-tions were the reception of Communion in the hand and the distribution of Communion by the laity. These were never really wanted by the church authorities who were regulating the reform. In 1968 the bishops of Belgium and Germany asked permission to experiment with Communion in the hand because it was a faster method of distribution. When the experiment ended three years later, the people refused to give up the option. Finally, in 1974, all efforts to eliminate the practice were stopped. With some similarities, extraordinary ministers have been reluctantly permitted to function since 1969. As late as 2006, official documents have reminded the whole church of how "inappropriate" this ministry is for the noncleric. Catholics still feel more comfortable with receiving the Eucharist as an act of personal devotion. Witness the difficulties of implementing the liturgical principles connected with the Communion procession: People do not sing, many still rush the line, many leave the church early. I suggest also that people are not enthusiastic about "Eucharist received" as a commission to ministry. Nor are people quick to realize the unity fostered by their sharing in the Body and Blood of Christ. Religious Life. From my experience of religious com-munities, I have the impression that many religious pre-fer the personal and devotional aspects of receiving the Eucharist to the ministerial aspects--the outward ser-vice- and only afterward the unifying aspects of being 66.4 2007 Rinere ¯ Eucharist Mirrored in Religious Life "Eucharist received:'; is certainly re qected in the service every Christian renders to others. part of the Eucharistic community. There is a tendency, after personal devotion, to be more invested in service to others than in service to one another in our religious communities--even though service to community mem-bers comes, of course, from our being united by our shar-ing in the Eucharist. "Eucharist received" is certainly reflected in the service every Christian renders to others. However, Eucharist received also should be reflected in those rela-tionships which are closest. For instance, within families the Eucharistic bond is intended to be effective-- real--between spouses and parents and children. This Eucharistic bond forms the "domestic church" that is at the heart of mar-riage. For religious, the Eucharistic bond must be at the heart of commu-nity relationships--a true force holding the community together. Most women religious no longer live in large institutional settings where they would form the daily Eucharistic community at Mass. Nowadays the unify-ing force of the Eucharist, wherever members share in it, should find its .first and most clear reflection at home, where we live with each other. Discussion, or any way of reflecting in community life the Eucharist as sacrament received, would best not focus on the Eucharist as such, but on the quality of our com-munity life, the Eucharistic character of our relationships with one another. What are the Eucharistic characteristics of relation-ships? What are the Eucharistic characteristics of com-munity relationships? How do we call one another to Review for Religious be Christ for each other in community? W-here is the Eucharist we receive effective in our communities? Groups that grapple with questions like these do not seek clear and definitive answers. Rather, they seek bonding, shar-ing one another's weaknesses, failures, successes, foibles. Perhaps being Eucharistic means forgiving and accepting rather than getting things right. If we can struggle with these kinds of questions, with this level of honesty, we will experience our religious life as mirroring our "Eucharist received." Our reception of the Eucharist will inspire an expanding vision; our act of private devotion will seek fulfillment in service to others and unity with those closest to us. Eucharist as Object of Adoration Let us now consider the Eucharist as an object of adoration. This aspect of the Eucharist has a significant history in the church, although such devotional practices as benediction and exposition did not develop until the 12th century or later. Historically, Eucharistic devotions originated as ways to safeguard and emphasize the doc-trine of the Real Presence. Benediction, exposition, and processions were theologically inspired rites intended to confirm the faith of the faithful on this point. The Real Presence, of course, suggests adoration. And theological vision sees adoration as finding a ritual completeness in celebration and other worthy activity. Nourishment from the Eucharist gives strength for carrying out apostolic action. Yesterday. Again, older people will recall the not uncommon practices of concluding Mass with benedic-tion or having exposition during Mass. Every parish had its time for Forty Hours Devotion. The architecture of churches called attention to the tabernacle and the Real Presence. Today we are seeing some resurgence of tradi- 66.4 2007 Rinere ¯ Eucharist Mirrored in Religious Life 396 tional devotions, even a return to traditional architecture. But is it merely a return of what was, or has there been some degree of transformation? Today. In his recent apostolic exhortation Sacramenturn caritatis, Pope Benedict speaks of the intrinsic relationship between Eucharistic adoration and Eucharistic celebra-tion. He says the relationship is much more clearly seen since the liturgical renewal brought about by Vatican II. He refers, of course, to the years it has taken to find a bal-ance between the Eucharist seen in celebration and recep-tion, and the interior and personal aspects of Eucharistic devotions and adoration. Journey. Vatican II set out the basic principle that devotional practices are to "harmonize with the liturgi-cal seasons, accord with sacred liturgy, [be] in some way derived from it, and lead the people to it, since in fact the liturgy by its very nature is far superior to any of them" (SC §13). Echoing this principle, Pope Benedict calls ado-ration of the Blessed Sacrament a "natural consequence" of the celebration, which "intensifies all that takes place during the celebration itself" (§66). Devotions that do not relate to the celebration of the Eucharist, that do not call to mission and community and lead back to the celebra-tion of the Mass, are incomplete. That is, adoration is completed by outward relationships. Consider for a minute that a part of the renewal sur-rounding eucharistic devotions concerned the placement of tabernacles in churches. An instruction published in 1967 stated the principle of why tabernacles should not be on the altar: In the celebration of the Mass the principal modes of Christ's presence to his church emerge clearly, one after the other: first he is seen to be present in the assembly of the faithful gathered in his name; then in his word, with the reading and explanation of Scripture; also in Review for Religious the person of the minister; finally, in a singular way, under the eucharistic elements. Consequently, on the grounds of the sign value, it is more in keeping with the nature of the celebration that, through reserva-tion of the sacrament in the tabernacle, Christ not be present eucharistically from the beginning on the altar where Mass is celebrated. (Instruction E~¢charisticum mysterium, 25 May 1967, §55) From that one principle came the years of wrangling over the placement of tabernacles in churches. The argu-ments went from on or off the altar to in or out of the sanctuary, from the body of the church to a side chapel. No clear consensus ever emerged, so now all disputes are settled by the diocesan bishop. The questions on tabernacles are relate~l to how peo-ple understand the Eucharistic presence of Christ in the Mass and the various other modes of his presence in the celebration of the Mass. Before Vatican II, Eucharistic devotions acknowledged the Real Presence in the taber-nacle and tended to ignore the other modes of Christ's presence. It seems these devotions had to disappear while the community became more familiar with the presence of Christ in the assembly, the word, and the priest; and the tabernacle had to move so we would find Christ in one another. Now we see a resurgence of Eucharistic devotions in many parishes and religious houses. This resurgence could be a regression to what was, inner adoration for its own sake, or it could be a reworking or a reweav-ing of the inward and outward aspects of the presence of Christ. Pope Benedict said in the apostolic exhortation: "If suitably updated, traditional Eucharistic devotions are worthy of being practiced today" (§68). In other words, insofar as the traditional Eucharistic devotions are united to and balanced with the celebration of the Mass, both are enriching. If either branch of Eucharistic expression loses 397 66.4 2007 398 Rinere * Eucharist Mirrored in Religious Life touch with the other, the mutual enrichment is frustrated. If the inner life of adoration does not enrich the outward impulse to service, the fullness of the Eucharistic reality is lost. If the outward impulse to service is not personal-ized by an inner adoration, the fullness of the Eucharistic reality is lost. This balance between inner devotion to the Real Presence in the Eucharist and outward service to the Real Presence in others is the goal for all Christians. We undertake action for justice when Christ is really present for us in one another. Religious Life. At the time of the council, the Eucharistic life of the church had not changed in a long time. The council presented the challenge of renewing and updating our Eucharistic worship and devotions so they reflected a balance between inner tradition and outward action. Now hear that again, with some words changed: At the time of the council, religious life had not changed in a long time. The council presented the challenge of renewing and updating our way of life so that it reflected a balance between inner tradition and outward action. Those who entered our communities in the 1960s happily and gloriously threw off old trappings of reli-gious life as we moved into the 20th century from the 17th, 18th, or 19th. In my own community we jettisoned what kept us inward, cloistered, separated from the world around us. Just as Eucharistic life of the church seeks the balance between tradition and progress, religious communities need the same cautious pursuit. Thus, discussions about Eucharistic adoration .might really be about whether our way of life is or is not balanced between tradition and progress. In the past forty years, have we progressed well in all things? What did we remove from our lives and why? Did we eliminate anything that we need now to hold us Review for Religious together? Did we erase anything that spoke clearly of who we are and what we are about? How can we more. effectively weave past, present, and future together? I do not know the answers to these questions, but wouldn't they make for some interesting conversation at community gatherings? There is much talk these days about women religious being "invisible" in the church. There is much mutter-ing about traditional communities having many vocations while progressive communities do not. Can the struggle to find a balance between inward Eucharistic adoration and outward service be instruc-tive here? Religious life, too, seeks a path of fidelity. We have looked at three aspects of the all-encompassing topic of the Eucharist. Regarding Eucharist as celebration, Eucharist as sacrament received, and Eucharist as object of adoration, we traced some struggles of the last forty years. Can we see ourselves reflected in the mystery which is the "source and summit" of all Christian life? Are we celebratory despite our differences? Can we compromise for the common good? Are we Eucharistic in our deal-ings with one another within community? Are our lives a good balance between tradition and progress, between adoration and action, between yesterday and tomorrow? Looking into such questions would bring Eucharist to the center of the room. It would become more clear to us that the source and summit of the church's life is the source and summit of our lives as well, for "the other sac-raments and all the ecclesiastical works of the apostolate are closely connected with the Most Holy Eucharist and ordered to it" (canon 897). Notes ' Paul Quenon ocso, "The Eucharist: Symbol of Coherence," in The Sacraments: Readings in Contemporary Sacramental Theology, ed. Michael Taylor SJ (New York: Alba House, 1981), p. 145. 399 66.4 2007 Rinere ¯ Eucharist Mirrored in Religious Life 2 Joseph Powers SJ, "Eucharist, Mystery of Faith and Love," in Taylor, Sacraments, p. 119. 3 Code of Canon Law: Latin-English Edition (Washington, D.C.: CLSA, 1999). 4 Annibale Bugnini, The Reform of the Liturgy: 1948-1975 (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1990), p. 289. 5 Bugnini, p. 280. 6 Bugnini, p. 294. 7 See Bugnini, pp. 640-661. 400 Fool's Gold Golden moon of year's end, fiat in the sky, sliding, shrouded, out again, high. No denomination marks its face-- not harvest or prairie, blue moon or silver: no song or moan just moon, alone. But I, contented, lie under this wintry sky chewing on pieces of winter moon tasting of June. Eilee~ Haugh OSF Review for Reli~ous A. PAUL DOMINIC The Christ Child, the Father of the Man For all the humbleness of Christ's birth as Luke portrays it, there is no denying the glamour of Christmas, however people perceive it and adapt theinselves into it. It was so at the first Christmas. The shepherds, the Magi, and Herod all behaved differently. The yearly Christmas in our days smacks of different traditions in differ-ent places. Also, the glamour in church is differ-ent from that of the market; people are attracted or repulsed. But surely there is room for some new traditions, if only they are sensitively cre-aged and sensibly introduced. To start with, however, it is worth discerning what is definitely good and downright bad in the usual responses to Christmas. One may contrast here the experience of Christian children with that of the secular publicJ Christian children celebrating Christmas have an innocence and A. Paul Dominic SJ wrote for us earlier this year, in our 66.2 issue. His new address is Human Development Centre; Port Mourant; Corentyne; Guyana, South America. Jesus and Mary 401 66.4 2007 Dominic ¯ The Christ Child, the Father of the Man 402 insight worthy of the true splendor of Christmas, reveal-ing it particularly in their mirth, as G.K. Chesterton has noted. The same thing cannot be said of the merely sec-ular Christmas, an expensive seasonal festival in winter attracting all and sundry. If the commercial Christmas catering to compulsive spending mars the innocent glam-our of Christmas, recent campaigns for the abolition of even the word Christmas would achieve a mere mimicry of Christmas devoid of mirth and glamour. Common among Catholics (at least in India) is another scenario, one they are fond of. Although they are not ignorant of the basic truth of Christmas, they are not well enough informed to appreciate, much less appropriate, the genuine glamour of what they celebrate. They have remained more or less with the same glimpse of Christmas as they had in their childhood. Their enjoy-ment of Christmas has remained stuck in the categories of the child-mind, that has however lost its intuitive spiritual ~ision. So they almost make an idol of the Christ Child, or at least diminish him in their own eyes. Such a rou-tine and even stunted devotion readily becomes a cult of the Infant Jesus carried on throughout the year, even during Lent and the Easter season. Such a popular cult with its unholy accretions--not the least of which is the mushrooming of miracles reminiscent of those reported in the apocryphal gospels--has prospered in India and caused Infant Jesus shrines to be built that attract not only Christians but also Hindus and Muslims. In such vagaries or caricatures of piety, one cannot but suspect something unwholesome and un-Christian. An illustra-tion of this would be a simple Hindu asking a Catholic if the Infant Jesus is a God different from the Christ on the cross. One may compare this to what a biblical scholar says about the Christmas crib. He does .not deny Francis of Assisi's contribution to Christmas when he made the Review for Religious first creche to illustrate the infancy gospels, but he says: "One can appreciate that enormous contribution and still be obliged to wonder whether, through fostering maud-lin sentimentality, the crib/creche might in certain circum-stances become false to the main theological purposes of those narratives." 1 Surely, then, the devotion to the Infant Jesus can-not follow the ancient apocryphal fervor or the modern materialistic route, but must derive, as always, from divine inspiration. The litur-gical inspiration based on Scripture has a pri-mary place. As the old saying goes, lex orandi, lex credendi (the law of prayer is the law of belief). The populaF Infant Jesus devotion has got it wrong,, pro-moting the supposed -- saying of the Infant Jesus in an apparition: "The more you honor me the more I will bless you." This reflects the gosPel tradition regarding Jesus' infancy only minimally. On the other hand, the liturgy, with its true springs of devotion, spreads out the mystery of Christ during the year, including the annunciation to Mary and the birth of her Son, his passion, death, resurrection, and ascension, and the coming of the Holy Spirit. Such thinking is in line with what the pristine church came to discover before the close of the first century. After pondering the Lordship of Christ revealed in his death and resurrection, it came to realize his Lordship at his very birth. The early Christians intuited, as shown in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, that Christ was the Lord at his birth, indeed, at his very coriception. John The devotion to the Infant Jesus canno't follow the ancient apocryphal fervor or the modern materialistic route. 66.4 2007 Dominic ¯ The Christ Child, the Father of the Man 404 made bold to say that the only-begotten Son of God became flesh, to be identified as Christ. Inheriting the full intuition of the evangelists faithfully enough, every gen-eration of Christians must learn to embrace the whole of the mystery of Christ. The only way open to us is that we reverse the way the first generation traversed, beginning where they ended and ending where they began. What they could understand only backwards, from the end, we start from the beginning. So we may frame a question as follows. Knowing that Christmas is not a self-contained mystery suitable for children and guarded by conservators, how can adult Christians celebrate and enjoy it for what it is, namely, an incipient open-ended mystery? A simple answer, already hinted at, is that we ought to be forward looking, developing an eschatological sensitivity. An initial clue may be found in Luke's telling of Christ's birth as following upon John's. At his birth John was very special to his parents and even their neighbor-hood. For all that, however, their focus was on the future; they wondered, "What will this child be?" That was the way they were interested in him as a unique individual of exceptional worth and grace. "For the hand of the Lord was with him" (Lk 1:66). However glorious he was at his birth, reminiscent of Isaac, Samson, and Samuel, it was no more than a measure of his future. Rightly, then, his father Zechariah gave voice to the unanimous expecta-tion of his neighbors, uttering a prophecy about his long-awaited son: And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people by the forgiveness of their sins. By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace. (Lk 1:76-79) Review for Religious In the story of Jesus, too, the same pattern of inter-est is noticeable. When Jesus was born and the news was made known to others, the focus was on what was to follow. If the shepherds told the details of the newborn child, it was not to glorify him in his swaddling clothes and perpetuate him in the manger; rather, the minutiae surrounding him were signs of what he was destined to be. Born a savior, he would prove himself a born savior, though one of an unexpected sort: he would save his peo-ple from their sins. The infant Savior was then and there no perfect Savior, if one may dare put it that way, for he was to become perfect in time's due course. Explicitly averring so in an early passage (5:8-9), the Letter to the Hebrews expatiates upon it later: When Christ came into the world, he said, "Sacrifices and offerings you have not desired, but a body you have prepared for me; in burnt offerings and sin offerings you have taken no pleasure. Then I said, 'See, I have come to do your will, O God.'" . . . When he said above "You have neither desired nor taken pleasure in sacrifices and offerings and burnt offerings and sin offerings," then he added, "See, I have come to do your will." He abolishes the first in order to establish the second. And it is by God's will that we have been sanc-tified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all. (Heb 10:5-10) Besides Savior, another title of the infant Jesus was King, both in Luke and Matthew. The glory of any infant king lies in his future. So when the Angel Gabriel announced to Mary God's plan for her, he did not con-fine himself to remarks about the pleasant or miracu-lous details of Jesus' birth or status; rather, he went on to describe intently his purposeful destiny. Born in the line of King David, he would himself be a king in his own right, but, unlike David, would exercise his king-ship without end. Something of that future both King 405 66.4 2007 Dominic ¯ The Christ Child, the Father of the Man Perhaps no mature mother could be absorbed totally in the present affairs of her child without being future oriented. 406 Herod's fear and the faith of the Magi foresaw, and they acted accordingly only to prove in different ways the last-ing kingship of him who, however, could exercise it only when he came of age. For all her motherly adoration of the Christ Child, Mary was not wholly occupied with his existence as a bun-dle of wonder. Right from her conception of this child, she was forward looking even as she became involved with him and treasured her immediate experience of him. Even in the first flush of her motherhood, she was left wondering what her child was going to be, especially after hearing what the visiting shepherds had to tell her about him. As she gazed at him in her arms, she also kept peering into whatever was emerging about him indicative of his future. A highly significant occasion was her meeting with Simeon. Hearing .his utterance, glorious and yet strange, about the destiny of her child for the rising and falling of many in Israel, she could not rest content clinging to Jesus only as to the son of her womb. Going beyond her motherhood, she had to set her eyes on the prophetic figure that he was to grow into, fulfilling the expectations of her own people. Perhaps no mature mother .could be absorbed totally in the present affairs of.her child without being future oriented, especially as the child grows out of childhood. Mary was led to visualize her Son's future right from the start by the divine intervention she recognized in her-self and the shepherds and the Magi and Simeon and, Review for Religious of course, her own Son, especially on his first visit to the temple. One may well say that almost every event in her life had a way of transporting her from her present involvement with her Son to the oncoming scenario of his life. Her life with her Son consisted, then, in detecting and discerning God's designs for him. It was an experi-ence of not merely seeing her Son with her wondering eyes and cherishing him as her own flesh and blood in homely surroundings. More than that, it was a matter of her perceiving him beyond space and time and so seek-ing an understanding of him as the grown man he was becoming. If ever the child is the father of the man, it was uniquely so in the case of her Son, Jesus. Such an ¯ understanding could not be given or received by flesh and blood. In her own way but also in the light of her Son's ever revealing Abba, who was and is and will be, Mary pondered the mystery of her child, whether suckling or growing and maturing. If there was a time when people knew Jesus only in the flesh, it could not continue that way; it had to cease sooner or later (see 2 Co 5:16).2 And Mary, his mother, would have learned this early, though it seems she never learned it enough. That is why, at certain junctures, she did not understand her Son's words and deeds. Her Son was deepening her understanding and her consolation. It is a credit to her that she continued to ponder what was occurring.3 The babyhood, childhood, and youth of Jesus were passing stages in more ways than one. He grew--continued to grow--in age, wisdom, and grace. If Mary was not unaware of her Son's growth, she could be stunned at times by what seemed a sudden growth and awareness. This.concerned his unique relationship with his Abba, even to the point of letting his earthly parents become deeply worried about him when we was twelve, at the dawn of his Jewish adulthood. All the rest of his life 407 66.4 2007 Dominic ¯ The Christ Child, the Father of the Man 4O8 stoW told in the Gospels, including his passion, death, and resurrection, was an unfolding of that initial appreciation of his Abba's delight. It is in this light that at Christmas we can hear the whisper of the Father to his Son: "You are my Son; today I have begotten you" (Ps 2:7). Later, of course, we hear "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased" (Lk 3:22). Anyone who does not cherish such a perspective of Jesus even while being engaged in contemplating his childhood misses in no small measure the mystery that he is. The great mystery of our religion is indeed pre-cisely he, the kind of person he was and is. It is multipolar mystery touching many stages of his life, one leading to the other not only step by step but by leaps and bounds. An ancient hymn sang it thus: He was revealed in flesh, vindicated in spirit, seen by angels, preached among Gentiles, believed in throughout the world, taken up in glory. (1 Tm 3:16) Revelation of him in the flesh is indeed Christmas and Christmas gloW. To appreciate it fully, all three elements in the description--the person revealed, the fact of rev-elation, and the mode of revelation--must be weighed and valued. Perhaps John does this best and so he can say, "The Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glow, the gloW as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth" On 1:14). This glow, of course, is the gloW of his entire life. St. Ignatius, till sometime after his conversion, was not an enlightened believer. He came to be blessed with enlightenment, however, as he matured in the faith. He shared his experience in his practical notes that became the classic Spiritual Exercises. There he proposes a con- Review for Religious templation on Jesus' birth in which he helps retreatants not to miss the fullness of the Christmas mystery. He points out that, if the Lord is born in great poverty, it is so that, after many hardships such as hunger, thirst, heat, cold, injuries, insults, and so forth, he may die on the cross.4 The church discovered such a spirit and introduced it in its way of praying. It nurtured it in a simple way through the Angelus. Reciting it three times a day, any-one-- child or adult, peasant or professional, artist or scientist--can learn to be at home with the full mystery of Christ. The three antiphons and three Hail Marys recall the mystery of joy at Christmas and associate us with Mary, who knew that joy as no one else. The conclud-ing prayer begins again with the annunciation/incarna-tion only to lead to the mystery of the passion, cross, and resurrection. There is no better way of doing homage to Jesus at any time, even Christmas. The Story of the Other Wise Man by Henry Van Dyke teaches all this in another way. With the proverbial three wise men, a fourth one, named Artaban, plans to visit the newborn Jewish king. He sets out with three gifts for him: a sapphire, a ruby, and a pearl. But, on the way to the agreed place of meeting, he finds a sick traveler lying alone on his desert path. He stays with him to nurse him to health. That prevents him from reaching his friends in time. Left alone, he sells his sapphire to provide him-self with the necessary caravan for the journey. When he reaches his destination, he finds sadly that the family of the baby king has fled from Bethlehem to escape Herod's murderous plans. To the house where he is staying, sol-diers come to slaughter a child, and he gives his ruby to them and saves the terrified mother and child. Setting out again, he travels far and wid

Issue 64.4 of the Review for Religious, 2005. ; Praying Calling Rehgious Life Perspectives The Spirit QUARTERLY 64.4 2O05 Review for Religious fosters dialogue with God, dialogue with ourselves, and dialogue with one another about the holiness we ~y to live according to charisms 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: 314-633-4610 ¯ Fax: 314-633-4611 E-Mail: review@slu.edu ¯ \\feb 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 hear 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. ~ gournalof Catholic S~iri~uali~ eli Editor Associate Editor Canonical Counsel Scripture Scope Editorial Staff VVebmaster Advisory 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 Kaddeen Hughes RSCJ Louis and Angela Menard Bishoi~ Terry Steib SVD Miriam D. Ukerifis CSJ QUARTERLY 64.4 2005 contents prisms 340 Prisms 342 355 praying Mary, Woman of the Eucharist: A Contemplation James A. Rafferty details the unique participation of Mary in the Eucharistic sacrifice of Jesus, a proximity to Eucharistic presence that envelops her entire being. Personal Prayer and Group Reflection From Centering Prayer to Christian Meditation Ernest E. Larkin OCarm provides a personal account of his study and experience of centering prayer and contemplation and Christian Meditation. Reflection Questions 369 380 calling Rekindling the Fire: Vocation Efforts Sefin D. Sammon FMS writes a letter to his own brothers to encourage practical measures to be adopted for encouraging vocations to religious life. Reflection Questions Don Bosco's Continuing Mission to Youth Leo J. Heriot SDB shares the dream of the young John Bosco that continues to shape the Salesian apostolate and system of education. Review for Religious 386 405 r Oi ious p rspe ivss The Council as Catalyst Elizabeth McDonough OP gives a snapshot picture from her own experience of living religious life in the light of the happening of Vatican Council II. Monks' Stability and Punxsutawney Christian Raab OSB suggests that a monk's vow of stability offers the opportunity to transform one's life instead of becoming stuck in the repetition of daily life. 410 spirit Led by the Spirit: St. Augustine Andrew Ryder SCJ presents the three movements in Augustine's life that are key to understanding his doctrine on the Holy Spirit. 424 429 436 443 Scripture Scope: Mark's Gospel and Jesus' Radical Humanity Canonical Counsel: Canonical Federation Book Reviews Indexes 64.4 200Y prisms Te main character in a popu-lar TV show called "Joan of Arcadia" finds that God speaks to her. God is always surprising her by speaking through quite different people-- sometimes young and at other times old or in-between, sometimes male and at other times female. This young woman is portrayed as a very ordinary person, but her experiences of God seem to set her apart. If we were to be asked where most consistently we experience God, I doubt that many of us would say that we hear God speaking to us. In fact, we tend to be wary of people who hear "voices" or God speaking to them. Yet the God of the Old and New Testaments is a communicator. We identify the scriptures as the word of God. Christian prayer has always been understood as a dialogue, with both God and ourselves speaking and listening to each other. What we are sometimes slow to recog-nize is that God communicates not just in words. In the whole world of creation, God is speaking. Our personal talents, our gifts, our traits tell us that God has loved us personally into existence. People have always found the majesty of God in the surging of the ocean's Review for Religious waves, in the soaring heights of mountain peaks, and in the rosy-fingered morning sun. Certain people coming into our lives make real to us the call, the concern, the compassion of God. Their very presence makes us feel touched by God. We Catholics have always held our saints in great esteem and affection. They continue to touch us with God's presence. We remember our dead because they too, strikingly holy or not, have spoken to us of God's care. We ask for their help because they relate us to God. And so God speaks to us not only in the sacred words of Scripture, but also through people and things and events of our everyday environment. Modern psychology has made us aware that we com-municate through body language. God, too, uses body language to talk to us. Every time we celebrate Christmas we can "hear" what God is saying to us through the baby Jesus. No one is frightened by a baby--seeing no stern judge or a wrathful and punishing monarch. The baby Jesus reaches out and hands himself over to us in great freedom and trust and love. This baby in a manger-- Jesus--is God speaking. The wonder of Christmas brings home to us how, first among all .the other ways of com-municating, God's incarnate Word speaks to us. What we need to observe in a more daily way is the silence of a Christmas night so that we can watch and listen. Perhaps that is our New Year's resolution. David L. Fleming SJ ES. The Review for Religious staff and board mem-bers pray for a holy and blessed Advent and Christmas seasons for all of our readers. 64.4 2005 JAMES A. RAFFERTY Mary, Woman of the Eucharist: A Contemplation praying This reflection looks at the relationship between Mary and the Eucharistic Lord. It attempts to show, in particular, Mary's intimate presence to the Eucharist. As a woman at the center of God's love for all humanity, Mary may properly be identified as Woman of the Eucharist, the title both reverential and affectionate that Pope John Paul employs in his encyclical Ecclesia de Eucharistia. This title is not merely a clever the-ological phrase about Mary symbolizing the entire church by her faith and receptive coop-eration. The title is about Mary's profound spir-itual relationship with her Son. Attuned as no other to the intimate communion deep within the Trinity, Mary singularly understands Jesus' Eucharistic heart as it embraces all humanity in choosing Calvary, where self-surrendering love is displayed in shocking degree. James A. Rafferty, a priest of the Diocese of Scranton, is chaplain and a campus minister at Marywood University; 2300 Adams Avenue; Scranton, Pennsylvania 18509. Review for Religious More than a theological category or doctrinal for-mulation, Mary, Woman of Eucharist, sings the hymn of one woman's surrender to the divine Love that gently invites people to become more like itself. The sacra-mental Eucharist we celebrate today has its peak expres-sion in the Last Supper that opens the original drama of the paschal mystery, but Jesus' Eucharistic offering is not limited to those hours of his life. Rather, his entire being may be described as Eucharist--sacrificial self-offering emboldened by an enormous gratitude. Mary's life, too, chants her Son's Eucharistic hymn of praise and self-gift long before she accompanies him to the moment when he hands over all that he is on the cross. Eucharistic tones reverberate in Mary's immaculate con-ception, in the annunciation, in her hearing her Son pro-claim the kingdom, in her presence at Calvary, and in her sharing in the Easter glory. The first Eucharistic moment in Mary's life, as in everyone's, is the moment of conception. Like everyone else, Mary receives her unique and unrepeatable iden-tity as nothing other than gift, gift to herself and to the world. Births celebrate the overflowing of love from the Trinity's heart into time and space, letting itself be known in the life of another. Life itself means receiving what we cannot give or produce on our own. This divine gift is always more splendid than cellular interactions and anatomical functions. The Spirit of God breathing into clay sacramentalizes the loving communion of the Creator with the created. Physical existence, even veiled in the womb, announces the divine creative imagination that renders each life sacred by bearing the image and likeness of the Triune God. While every new human life arouses awe and thank-fulness in the presence of this loving gift from God, the humble daughter of Israel has an unprecedented 343 64.4 2005 Rafferty * Mary, Woman of the Eucharist: A Contemplation God creates Mary as one ready to welcome, grace without resistance, Eucharistic glow from her immaculate conception. The child of Anne and Joachim receives from her first instant the totally unmerited gift of being preserved by God from all stain of original sin. God creates Mary as one ready to welcome grace without resistance. Her very dis-position is to seek always what is the delight of her Creator and Lord. In her immaculate heart Mary bows before the tender stirrings of the Spirit of Yahweh. She never lurches away from the Lord in willful-ness. Her submission to God is like the strings of a peerless violin at the touch of a skilled violinist. The instrument exists precisely to give resonance to the master's melody and fill the air with music. The violinist's touch is not subjugation. It frees the instrument to be its fullest self. Mary cooperates wholly in all that God desires for her. We pray during the liturgy for something of her receptivity when we say, "Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word, and I shall be healed." Although these words originate in Jesus' encounter with a centurion concerned for his servant's health, the litur-gical context may suggest Zacchaeus, delighted to wel-come Jesus to his home and almost happy at not concealing how much his soul has needed tidying up. As we approach the altar to receive the gift of Jesus' Body and Blood, it seems that Jesus wishes to evoke within us Peter's change of heart: first refusing to let Jesus wash his feet and then eagerly conceding at Jesus' insistence. Again, the Immaculate Conception is a permanent stance of receptivity. We seek that disposition in our own prepa-ration for Communion. Review for Religious The Eucharistic motif appears in Mary's life also in her obscurity and poverty. Her simple, humble existence in a tiny village reflects the Eucharist. There Mary depends utterly on God. Mary experiences a real, not just a romantic, poverty. She feels with all who are poor the realities of hunger, cold, and powerlessness. For her the cry of the poor is not a hypothetical, poetic verse; it echoes her authentic abandonment to the Lord's provi-dence in situations where human efforts do not accom-plish much. There is more here than a passive resolve to endure difficulty and want. Mary finds comfort and assur-ance in a faithful God who has pledged never to aban-don the people he has chosen to be his own. As a woman of actual poverty, Mary relates to God as the provider of her daily needs. She carries within her a practiced confi-dence that God attends to her hunger and thirst, a heart-felt trust that breaks into the praise of the Magnificat. She lives out of the consciousness that it is God who feeds, nourishes, and sustains. Her poverty expresses sol-idarity with every child of the Covenant who awaits God's saving action. Such indomitable hope, passed on across centuries, has been planted deep in Mary's heart. Mary's Eucharistic living is evident in the moment when divinity unites with human flesh at her consent, "Let it be done to me according to your word." The Lord instituted the sacramental Eucharist for us to con-sume and thereby have the divine life pulsing strongly within us. Mary's "yes" to the invitation of God fore-shadows our "amen" at being offered the Eucharist. Amen here means "Yes, I believe it is the Body of Christ, and, yes, I wish to receive it." It is implicitly a consent that the Body of Christ broken, offered, received, and consumed may effect a change in us who partake.of it. As believers we surrender before the mystery in a way similar to Mary's "Let it be done to me." Like Mary at the annun- 64.4 2005 Rafferty * Mary, Woman of the Eucharist: A Contemplation 346 ciation, in the Eucharist we implicitly desire that the Trinity take over our life so that our identity, fused with Jesus himself, lets itself be guided by God the Father. When the angel appears to Mary with the message that she will conceive and bear a son who will be called Son of the Most High, she perceives the compassion radiating from the heart of God. This radiance accom-panies the self-surrender of the God who comes to dwell in flesh. By the grace of the Holy Spirit, Mary is drawn into God's plan, which includes Calvary. In the powerful current of paschal love, she more than anyone else glimpses the yearning of God to heal the rift that sin causes in the relationship between Creator and creature. Every act of God in the salvific economy bears a paschal orientation, and Mary intuits the paschal horizon of God's project. That is, she senses the truth of what she meets in the annunciation--a self-offering Love that knows no limitation. Lacking the vocabulary of Trinitarian theology, Mary nonetheless encounters the Father offering his Son in the power of the Holy Spirit. She experiences deep within her the distinct energies of the Trinitarian per-sons, as if eavesdropping on the dialogue of the Trinity's plan for her. Mary knows, then, a Father sharing his Son with her, and she knows this contemplatively in the depths of her being. Mary's pregnancy does not begin as a mere procedural accomplishment, as valued posses-sions are handed over to faithful friends for safekeeping. Because the Spirit of God fills her, Mary senses the meaning of this act for the Father. The Father is hand-ing over to her, and through her to all humanity, that which is most precious to him, his beloved Son. Mary knows this with her whole being. She knows, too, the Son's active participation in this gift-giving. Before the throne of the Father in heaven, Review for Religious the Son exercises the characteristic obedience that he will manifest in the world even to death. Mary'sfiat opens the path for the eternal Word to enact his incarnation in space and time. The Son exchanges the omnipotence of divine majesty for confinement in the womb of a young woman. The Second Person of the Trinity assumes human nature in its meekest form and progresses accord-ing to the physiological laws of the human condi-tion. Mary, of course, does not, by virtue of her experience of the annun-ciation, have unrestricted access to the mind of God. She remains thor-oughly finite. Like every other human being, she knows only what she can experience. There pre-cisely do we find the glory in the incarnation, the splendid miracle that Mary is the first to perceive--God revealed in human frailty. Mary is present to the moment when the Son clothes himself in the frailty, dependence, poverty, and even death that mark every human life. The words of consecration so familiar in the Eucharistic Prayer are already subtly present at the annunciation. "You will conceive and bear a son." "How can this be?" "The power of the Most High will over-shadow you." It is as if all of creation--a suffering world yearning for the healing that it is helpless to achieve on its own--has been imploring the Holy Spirit, in one great wordless epidesis, to fill the virginal womb with life. And God responds by making himself present in history for children and adults to see, hear, and touch--and be Mary is present to the moment when the Son clothes himself in the ~ailty, dependence, poverty, and even death that mark every human life. 347 64.4 200Y Rafferty ¯ Mary, Woman of the Eucharist: A Contemplation touched by. Mary's response is personal and collective. She speaks on behalf of a wounded race. Generation after generation of messianic hope permeates the Jewish faith. In Mary and others like Anna and Simeon, this hope is not merely a passive waiting and watching. More than that, it is an ever intensifying desire, calling upon God fervently and ceaselessly from amid the welter of the human condition. Here is the imploring epiclesis to which the Father answers in the incarnation of his Son. To this intensification of Jewish prayer may be added the human hearts all over the world humbly defenseless under the weight and the stings of evil. Moved by their sobs and their silence, God intervenes decisively. Through the Holy Spirit and Mary's yes, God's Son becomes present in her womb. This is similar to what occurs in the liturgy. Mary offers herself in conjunction with the cries of a people lost in darkness, and the Holy Spirit completes her offering infinitely by bringing about the presence of Jesus in her womb. The divine love in this human form is Light itself amid earth's darkness. Surrendering himself to the human condition, the Son of God encompasses the human race's sad history in himself. He submits himself to the force of evil that pummels, confuses, and obliterates. At the first moment made possible by Mary's assent, the world begins to hear the Son whisper, "Take this, all of you, and eat it, this is my body; take and drink, this is my blood, given up for you." Mary silently possesses more than an inkling of the self-surrender that God envi-sions. The Son empties himself by taking on human nature, and Mary nourishes humanity's self-sacrificing Savior towards his birth. She and he both anticipate his self-offering on the cross, the offering that rises from burial into resurrection a~l is present each time the Eucharist is celebrated. Mary's praying heart delights in Review for Religious the wonder, adoration, and gratitude with which she accompanies the Child she carries. With maternal love she worships thankfully the Presence within her in a unique Communion. The proclamation of the kingdom of God, too, is redolent of the F~ucharistic. In the Spirit, all grace of whatever form moves human hearts to Communion. People's gifts or fruits of prayer come to naught unless they seek and find some externalization in unity, in Communion. The Spirit is Communio, and all grace drives toward perfect fulfillment in the heavenly ban-quet, the wedding feast of the Lamb, for which the litur-gical sacrifice prepares us. No wonder, then, that the New Testament's Eucharistic imagery appears in the ear-liest moments of Jesus' public ministry. At the Jordan, Jesus, who is without sin, does not accept John's baptism as a gesture of solidarity with weaker brothers and sisters. He is maturely aware of his right relationship with Yahweh. His decision to approach the Baptist, like his acceptance of the cross, manifests publicly the full sur-render to the Father's will that he has made in prayer many times. Here at the Jordan, Jesus offers himself unreservedly to his Father's plan. He pledges himself to the kingdom that John has heralded. In sublime intimacy the Son prays, "Take this, Father, it is yours." He hands over to the Father all that he receives: his body, his energy, his desire, his relationships; his future. At the Jordan, at the proper time, the Son relives on earth his own unseen choice in eternity to become incarnate. His Father accepts his self-offering and blesses it with the epiphany that confirms the beloved Son's identity. As Jesus undertakes his public ministry, right from the beginning he gathers a community from people who have little in common other than their friendship with Jesus and the willingness to risk being in his company. 64.4 200~ Rafferty * Mary, Woman of the Eucharist: A Contemplation Mary playsa role in , this formation of Christ's followers inlto a Eucharistic coinmunityi Jesus does not announce the kingdom as some exhila-rating new ideology or political vision. Rather, he forms relationships and then sees to it that they form rela-tionships with one another. And he gets them sharing in his own relationship, his own communion, with the Father. Today the Eucharistic table is the special place where the Father reaches out to his sons and daughters and where they seek the deep unity among themselves that they find occurs only when God is in their midst. In celebrating the Eucharist, Christians accompany Jesus and attend to his words and actions, and he forms the church in his paschal love just as he did with his first disciples. Mary, Woman of the Eucharist, plays a role in this formation of Christ's followers into a Eucharistic com-munity. Here this does not mean intuitions of their rit-ual participation in the Mass. Rather, it means learning a new way of being loved by God. Their souls are being awakened to tolerate and then to rejoice that Jesus comes not to be served but to serve. The Spirit is slowly instructing them in the language of God's heart, which speaks most eloquently in the silence of Good Friday. But, preparing for that day, Jesus brings his friends and coworkers home with him to Nazareth and to Mary. They have left home and livelihood to stay with him. They are good people, but they carry the soot of the world with them. Their hands and their hearts are stained with the grime of laboring in a world pol-luted by greed, prejudice, dishonesty, violence, and cynicism. Review for Religious As if in a retreat in preparation for the work of the kingdom, the disciples notice the warmth of pure love between Jesus and his mother. The home at Nazareth serves as a chapel of adoration, of deep devotion, where the love that the graced human spirit is capable of becomes visible. In Jesus' relating with Mary, there is no hardness of heart, no defensiveness, no secrecy, no inse-curity. The disciples could not have resisted being affected by the goodness of this mother and this Son. Long before Mary and John's presence on Calvary, Jesus is already drawing his friends into Mary's universal moth-erhood. At the same time, Mary quietly rejoices as she watches the glow of Trinitarian communion dawn in the lives of others. As the church begins to form, Mary joy-fully waits at the center to share what she has received. Eucharistic nuances continue to pervade Mary's dis-cipleship of her Son, especially in her loyal, fearless par-ticipation in his death and resurrection. The full meaning of the Via Crucis opens up before people who contem-plate it with Mary's eyes. Mary's consent to the angel at the annunciation reaches its climax in her yes beneath the cross, where her heart, united with her Son's, is in perfect obedience to the Father. Mary's obedience is not a horrified resignation to the inevitable, nor a resentful passivity in the face of something she desperately wants to alter. Mary cooperates in the sacrifice of Jesus. Indeed, as Jesus struggles toward the altar of the cross, Mary's spirit accompanies him with the prayer that nothing dis-suade him from his g0al. Whatever dark lies, taunts, or tortuous subtleties the tempter hurled at him in Gethsemane, Mary, in luminous contrast, gently urges him not to give up. Her intense love for Jesus cannot wish him to be other than who he is. In her Son's selfless desire to give himself away out of love, amid the hor-rific brutality of Calvary, Mary gazes upon the heart of 64.4 200Y Rafferty ¯ Mary, Woman of the Eucharist: A Contemplation the Trinity revealed in human history. Wondrously graced, she embraces both the incomparable grief of a woman who witnesses her son's execution and the awe of one who witnesses a compassion as vast as God him-self. Jesus gives forth his last breath, every last spark of energy in his being. For humaniv ~'s sake he surrenders to Mary embraces both the incomparable grief of a woman who Witnesses her son's execution and the awe of one: who witnesses a compassion as vast as God himself. the Father all that he has and is, and Mary watches the birth of a New Covenant. In her excruciating sorrow there is an unshak-able joy. What can possibly convey the significance of her tears shed that day? Hers are tears of pain and also over-whelming delight at a mystery so profound it takes an eternity to contemplate it. Mary does not impede or resist the cross of her Son. She lives and moves in the Spirit of the Father who hands over his beloved Son. Mary deeply comprehends the Trinity's sacrificial love. She is the first human being to understand all that the Eucharistic sacrifice entails. Even more incredible, she prays for everyone to have the courage to approach the sacrifice of Jesus and with her to desire its fulfill-ment in a personal assent to Jesus' self-offering. The Eucharist derives its meaning and power from Jesus' pas-sion, death, and resurrection. Mary teaches the church how to adore the Lord at the foot of the cross, where blood and water flowed from the Savior's pierced side. Jesus' disciples, even his closest friends, had to learn of Review for Religious the empty tomb before their despair turned to hope, but Mary is deeply consoled even as she cradles Jesus' lifeless body in her arms. The resurrection and Pentecost show the redeeming power of the paschal mystery. So do present-day Eucharists. They do it not simply because Christ died on the cross, but because he lives now and forever, some-thing our faith knows. Through her deep faith Mary is already disposed for Easter before her risen Son ever appears. For the faithful woman who can see more than loss and emptiness at Calvary, there is more than the silence of the grave. There is a confident communion with the Father, whose unwavering love Mary knows well. Her soul has felt the tender power of the Spirit bringing to birth what human imagination cannot fathom. Mary has learned well to trust in more than what her senses reveal. She is the authentic contemplative, familiar with the Spirit's movement, and it is not a spirit of despair. She remains a mother in those dark hours. She consoles and encourages the confused, disheartened disciples until the Paraclete fills their hearts with the light of Truth and with Pentecostal fire. Deep faith in the Risen One sees more than any eyes can see. It sees that death itself is not the tragic loss it appears to be, but is the last measure of the prelude to the divine oratorio of eternal life. In the Eucharist, too, participants see and hear more than their senses per-ceive. The bread is no longer bread, the wine no longer wine, but the living presence of Jesus Christ, who makes of his members a living communion. It is Mary who leads the church to the Eucharistic Lord. Hers is no mere external presence or observance or performance. She is intimately involved in her Son's love for the world. Her heart comes to us with the Love that overflows the heart of God. 64.4 2005' Rafferty ¯ Mary, Woman of the Eucharist: A Contemplation Sources Pope John Paul II. Encyclical Letter Ecclesia de Eucbaristia. 17 April 2003. Corbon, Jean. Tbe Wellspring of V~ord~ip, trans. Matthew J. O'Connell. New York: Paulist Press, 1988. Reprinted by Wipf and Stock Publishers. Personal Prayer In the context of the Eucharistic celebration, we might take up the following scripture passages for contemplation: Luke 1:26-38 John 19:25-37 Group Reflection In what ways has this article on "Mary, Woman of the Eucharist" opened up new insights and apprecia-tion for the Mass in our daily living? Review for Religious ERNEST E. LARKIN From Centering Prayer to Christian Meditation T~nPaper is a bit of narrative theology, something y personal journey over the last twenty-five or thirty years trying to practice meditation and contem-plation. My account begins in midstream of my religious life, in the mid 1970s, with my introduction to centering prayer. Basically the journey has been from centering and centering prayer to Christian Meditation, the prayer discipline of John Main (+1982). Three Ways to the Center First, the point of departure. What do I mean by cen-tering and centering prayer? These .terms have become familiar and clearly defined today. It was not always so. Centering and centering prayer meant different things to different people in the 1960s and 1970s. An example is the article by Thomas E. Clarke sJ in the British journal The Way titled "Finding Grace at the Centre.''1 The title may be familiar, because it named a collection of Ernest E. Larkin OCarm wrote for us last in July-August 2003. His address is St. Agnes Catholic Church; 1954 North 24th Street; Phoenix, Arizona 85008. 64.4 2005 Larkin ¯ From Centering Prayer to Christian Meditation essays on centering prayer published by the Trappists in 1978 and again by Skylight Paths Publishing in 2002. The whole article was reprinted except for the last two pages, which at the time represented one of the chief contributions of the article. So I have a quarrel with the editors for deleting the pages and not indicating they did so. Apparently they wanted to highlight the one form of centering prayer they were espousing in the booklet, and so dropped two other prayer forms that Clarke was presenting as ways to the center. In the article Clarke presented a philo-sophical exposition of centering and then posed the ques-tion: How does one make the journey to the center? His answer was threefold. The first way was classical center-ing prayer, the way of dark faith, which proceeds beyond images and concepts and seeks to rest in the indwelling God. The other two ways to the center used imagination and feelings; they were the prayer of images and fantasy and the practice of the examen of consciousness. All three were ways to the center, ways to dispose the soul for the great gift of contemplation. Together they offered a rich and broadly based prayer life. Teachers of centering prayer should have applauded the connecting of centering prayer with other forms of active prayer. Centering prayer is contemplative in intent, but active in method, as are all forms of meditation. Centering prayer was not supposed to replace lectio div-ina, nor to become one's total prayer life. Centering prayer is a spiritual exercise to deepen one's whole spir-itual life, animating, for example, the liturgy and one's devotions. Connecting the three ways put flesh and blood on centering prayer by acknowledging that imagination and human effort can help in the process of centering. Clarke's paper stated a simple and even obvious fact, Review for Religious namely, that the search for contemplation, especially in beginnings, is not an abstract act; it invokes images and thoughts even while it strives to get beyond them. All three ways converge to the center. This was a welcome reminder in the early days of centering prayer. I remember how the insight thrilled me. I talked about the distinctions with Father John Kane, a Redemptorist, who founded a contemplative house of prayer in Tucson, Arizona. We both agreed that the article was a breakthrough because it made room for the imagination at least in the beginnings of con-templative prayer. The search for contemplation was not restricted to forced abstract search; one did not have to empty the mind. Centering prayer was one way to contemplation and a good way, but it was not the only way. Clarke's article contextualized the search for contemplation and freed it from a one-track pursuit based on theoretical textbook definitions. Before this time I had a philosophically correct but pastorally deficient understanding of contemplation as imageless prayer. I thought "Ignatian contemplation," for example, which consists in reliving a gospel story, was a misnomer; the process was meditation, not con-templation. I did not cotton to Morton Kelsey's thesis that the imagination ruled the prayer practice in the church in the first millennium, and that abstract con-templation in the mode of John of the Cross was Johnny-come- lately in the second millennium. Kelsey argued this position in his popular The Other Side of Silence. To my mind, contemplation had no room for images; they Have we had a philosophically correct but pastorally deficient understanding of contemplation as imageless prayer? 64.4 2005 Larkin ¯ From Centering Prayer to Christian Meditation belonged to discursive prayer, the way of meditation, which was a lesser species of mental prayer. But here was Tom Clarke connecting the imagination with centering, thereby broadening horizons in contemplative prayer. The three ways of centering were a significant help to me. Two years earlier, in 1975, I had made a thirty-day Ignatian retreat and came away with the resolution to spend an hour each morning in mental prayer. I was faithful to the hour, but I lacked method. My prayer was amorphous. I read and reflected, I pondered, mused, stirred affections, and made resolutions. I also centered and sat for long periods of silence. But there was no particular order in my pondering. After two years of struggle to be faithful to the hour without a clear methodology, my prayer had became dry and difficult. I "white-knuckled" my prayer, holding on to the bench to fill out the hour. All this may have been a species of the determinada determinacion of Teresa of Avila, but it was probably closer to the "zelus sine scientia corruit" of St. Bernard: "Zeal without knowledge destroys." How long could I hold on? Only the grace of God kept me from giving up on the hour. My efforts in the hour were the same as my practice in the two daily periods of formal meditation in my Carmelite community over the years. These two peri-ods were shorter, usually a half hour each, and I was able to handle them, though somewhat haphazardly. Because they were amorphous, I subsequently looked on them disparagingly. I thought I had wasted a lot of time in my mental prayer. I do not think that way now. I have come to take a more benign view. I realize with Woody Allen that ninety-five percent of life as well as of prayer is showing up. If we are there, putting in time with the Lord, the Lord will do the rest. We should not exag-gerate the role of method. Review for Retigious But method helps. The three ways of Tom Clarke supplied a format for my contemplative prayer. I would do twenty minutes of classical centering prayer, twenty minutes of reflection on the day's readings, and then after Mass twenty minutes ofjournaling. I did not char-acterize the imaginative parts of my prayer--the biblical meditation and consciousness examen--as contempla-tive, but I saw them as part of my pursuit of contempla-tion. Moreover, the active prayers gave permission for elements of imagination to enter my centering prayer. At this time I made a study of the prayer of St. Teresa of Avila in her early premystical years to determine how she employed the imagination in her beginning con-templative prayer.2 She later called this "practice of prayer" active recollection. In the paper I argued that the imagination played a significant role in her practice. Her prayer was her own making, hence active in form; but it was contemplative since her whole effort was to rest in the deep personal realization of the Divine Indwelling. This was her whole prayer. Teresa called it "re-presenting Christ within." Commentators sometimes incorrectly interpret this phrase to mean the imagina-tive recall of some mystery in Christ's life, such as of his being scourged at the pillar. The imaginative recall is part of the prayer, but not its heart, since the recall is only the refocusing of the person in moments of wan-dering. The remembrance of an image from the passion serves the same function as the holy word in centering prayer. The holy word does not detract from the con-templative character of centering prayer any more than the image in active recollection. I concluded my paper on Teresa by saying that her prayer was a mixture of imageless and imaged centering prayer. Today I agree that the term centering prayer should be reserved to the prayer of imageless dark faith. 64.4 2005 Larkin ¯ From Centering Prayer to Christian Meditation 3,60 This primary thrust, however, leaves room for some imagination in the practice of this prayer. Teresa's active recollection, which can rightly be called centering prayer, was both apophatic, that is, beyond imagining and thinking, and kataphatic, that is, with a role for the imagination. These insights into Teresa's prayer confirmed Clarke's suggestion and allowed me to accept a minor but real role for the imag-ination in my own practice and theorizing about con-templative prayer. As late as the year 2000, I was still experimenting with a role for the imagination in my contemplative prayer. I was on another long retreat at the Camaldolese monastery at Big Sur in California. For five weeks I prac-ticed Christian Meditation several times each day. I described three different experiences of my contempla-tive prayer in an article in Review for Religious in 2001.3 Two of the patterns I reported engaged the imagination to a small extent. These points about the imagination and contemplation are not irrelevant; they continue to occupy the attention of writers.4 The Move to Christian Meditation The centering and centering prayer so far described were the focus of my efforts at daily mental prayer for some fifteen years. I did not, however, practice it twice daily as was specified by Contemplative Outreach under the leadership of Thomas Keating. The two periods of twenty to thirty minutes, morning and evening, are essential for the discipline of centering prayer. These periods are catalysts for one's prayer life. They are like workouts in a physical-health regimen, and their role is to bring one's life to a deeper level in one's spirit. The outcome is the goal of contemplation in Carmelite terminology. Review for Religious In the mid 1990s I switched my prayer practice to Christian Meditation, a similar but different form of cen-tering developed by John Main, an Irish Benedictine from England. I did so mainly because I was not satisfied with my practice of classical centering prayer. Christian Meditation is promoted by the World Community for Christian Meditation, headed by Laurence Freeman OSB. The major difference between centering prayer and Christian Meditation is the holy word versus the mantra. "Holy word" and "mantra" are not synonyms. Their dif-ference specifies the two forms of contemplative prayer. Christian Meditation repeats the mantra, usually the biblical prayer "ma-ra-na-tha," which means "Come, Lord," from the begin-ning to the end of the prayer. The holy word, on the other hand, is not repeated continu-ously, but only as needed to renew the consent to the Divine Presence. The holy word expresses the will of the person to rest quietly, silently, in the Lord. The mantra, on the other hand, carries the prayer. John Main does not tire of saying that the mantra is the prayer. It creates the silence that is emptiness and open-ness before God, the silence that invites the Divine Presence. The mantra nurtures the beatitude "Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God" (Mt 5:8). Purity of heart and contemplation are the two hinges of the door of the mantra. The mantra is not magic, but a simple device to shut down ordinary rational activity in favor of silence. How would we explain the major difference between centering prayer and Christian Meditation as the holy word versus the mantra? 361 64.4 2005 Larkin ¯ From Centering Prayer to Christian Meditation 362 Since I switched my daily practice to Christian Meditation ten years ago, I have been faithful to the two times each day. My personal preference for Christian Meditation is not a condemnation of centering prayer; the same fruits and benefits are available in both forms. The choice of one or other of the two disciplines is a personal matter. I feel that centering prayer has a closer affinity with Teresa of Avila than with John of the Cross and that Christian Meditation has a closer affinity with John than with Teresa. I base these opinions on the sim-ilarity between active recollection and centering prayer, and a similarity of absolutes between the nada and the todo in John and the call to kenosis or self-emptying in Christian Meditation. In the final analysis the two approaches are more alike than different. For this reason I have studied them together and emphasized what is common to them. I have published several articles on the two forms, which I hope to gather into a book. The leaders in the two movements work closely together and see their ministries as parallel. One example of this close collaboration is a prayer center in Phoenix called the Cornerstone. It is sponsored by both movements, which share the same space in a former convent in the Carmelite parish of St. Agnes. The Cornerstone offers programs that are sometimes common to both groups and sometimes specific to one of them. It is lay orga-nized and lay directed. The Genius of Christian Meditation I have come to see Christian Meditation as a com-panion piece, a "how to" addition to the teaching of St. John of the Cross on the passage from meditation to contemplation. This area is one of his specialties. He defines in precise terms both meditation and contem-plation and why the transition from one state to the other Review for Religious can be difficult if not traumatic. Meditation for him is a rational activity, the work of the imagination and the discursive reason; it is active and self-directed. Contemplation is passive and receptive of the gift of the love and presence of God. The transition from one state to the other can be disturbing. Beginning contempla-tion may look like a step backward, even total loss. The old way of meditation is no longer appealing or even possible, and the new way of contemplation is not self-evident. The experience is the passive dark night of the senses. It is a great grace, but easily mistaken and open to misunderstanding. John gives his famous three signs to authenticate the state as well as detailed instruction on the conduct to be followed. In discursive meditation one deals with concrete indi-vidual acts, striving to remove the bad ones and to pro-mote good ones. So meditation is analyzing, evaluating, making choices and resolutions. The soul is like a win-dowpane, St. John says, and the work of meditation is to remove the smudges of bad habits and replace them with acts and habits that are bright with the light of Christ. The light of Christ is faith. The window pane is lighted up by faith-motivated activity. Over time the win-dow becomes clear and the soul purified in the matter of concrete choices. The light of faith shines through with fullness, simplicity, and wholeness. This is the light of contemplation. The light is always there, John of the Cross says. It is part of the state of grace. The perception of the light, however, is dependent on being rid of delib-erate sinful habits. John writes as follows: This light is never lacking to the soul, but, because of creature forms and veils that weigh on it and cover it, the light is never infused. If individuals would elimi-nate these impediments and veils and live in pure nakedness and poverty of spirit, as we will explain 64.4 200~ Larkin * From Centering Prayer to Christian Meditation 364 later, their soul in its simplicity and purity would be immediately transformed into simple and pure Wisdom, the Son of God. (Ascent 2.15.4) Thus these graces, when received, are "infused light and love," that is, infused contemplation. The way of con-templation is self-awareness of this new state of being. One simply opens one's eyes and sees and basks in the love and presence of God. At first there will be a going back and forth between meditation and contemplation. John of the Cross gives detailed advice on how to recognize the times for the one or the other, that is, when to continue to meditate and when to rest in the contemplative light and love. His teaching is renowned for its clarity and effectiveness for spiritual direction and retains its place in the life of every budding contemplative. But it is a complicated teaching. Along comes John Main who sees meditation and contemplation in conti-nuity with each other and as one process. The prayer or discipline of Christian Meditation is one dynamic that begins with the mantra and stays with it through multi-ple experiences of God's love. Contemplation is the awareness of Abba's love for me, who am bonded with the Son in the love of the Holy Spirit. The contemplative grows in the appreciation of this love and gets ever more deeply in touch with the knowledge and love that the Tr!nity showers on the world. There is communio, koinonia, participation in the reality of God and his cre-ation. This communion is unitive knowledge, of subject and subject inhering in each other. It is not dualistic knowledge, from the outside, leaving subject and object apart from one another. It is not any particular psycho-logical experience. There is at-oneness, a "common union" or communion, in which the Trinity and the human being enter into what Teresa of Avila called Review for Religious union, namely, "two things becoming one." Communion is the ontological reality; contemplation adds awareness and attention. Not every experience of Christian Meditation is infused contemplation such as John of the Cross has in mind. But every experience is communion and eventually will bring the fullness of contemplation. The commitment to Christian Meditation is a com-mitment to a way of life. The way is always the same; it is the way of the mantra from beginning to end. The goal of the prayer is without limits. One stops saying the mantra only when one is reduced to silence. These are moments of special grace that John of the Cross calls "oblivion" (Living Flame 3.3 5). One resumes saying the mantra as soon as the silence is recognized, because that is the sign that the special mystical grace has passed. John Main's program is one of utter simplicity. He does not stress, though he may acknowledge in theory, the abstract differences between meditation and con-templation or the different degrees of contemplation. But he treats them as one spiritual practice and says explicitly that meditation, meditative prayer, contem-plation, and contemplative prayer are all synonyms. No need to be concerned about essences, he seems to say; the important thing is to grow in purity of heart and recep-tivity to divine grace. The journey is the same in both John of the Cross and John Main, but it is described from different viewpoints. The older John presents objective theology in the manner of the scholastics; the younger John has made the turn to the subject, and his exposition is experiential and practical. Laurence Freeman remarks that John Main's purpose was to start people on the journey and let experience of the prayer teach the rest. The one task proposed is the mantra. The mantra does not deal with obstacles one by one or even supply building blocks for a spiritual edi- 64.4 2005 Larkin ¯ From Centering Prayer to Christian Meditation 566 rice. It silences the mind, emptying it of its contents. The silence makes room for the Spirit to take over. "Be," says John Main," and you are in the Spirit."s The Spirit is already there with Father and Son in the Divine Indwelling. If the soul is silent and receptive, the Spirit will pray there beyond images and thoughts, in sighs too deep for words (Rm 8:26). The Spirit will do this because the soul is open and ready and God wants that mutual indwelling even more than the soul does who is sincerely seeking God. John Main's simple method frees the person so that the presence of the Trinity can come alive and be actualized. When there is space and freedom, the meditator is caught up in the prayer of Jesus. That prayer is the one and only prayer in the world since the Incarnation, because it is the love between Father and Son and envelops all of creation. Faithful meditators are woven into that salvit]c love. The journey with the Son to the Father will traverse the stages of Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross. Christian Meditation will be the vehicle, the discipline to get one going and to help one stay on the path. These are astounding claims for Christian Meditation. Their jus-tification is the beatitude "Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God" (Mt 5:8). The silence of the mantra produces the purity of heart, and the reward of purity of heart is the love of God, of people, and of the world found in the gift of contemplation. How does silence accomplish this twofold task? By allowing one to escape from the false self by placing one beyond the toils of ego and the world it creates, by free-ing one from the imprisonment of false desires. This healing produces purity of heart. The new freedom allows one to go deeper into the spirit, the domain of the Trinity. The reality of this state is primary and comes before awareness and appreciation. The reality is called Review for Religious communio or participation in the life of God; the aware-ness is contemplation. The Spirit will give us contem-plation when we are ready. Contemplation is thus the outcome of faithful prac-tice of the mantra. Contemplation is the life of God received, the backdrop and engine of one's whole spiri-tual life. It is the life that animates one's community rela-tionships, one's ministry, and one's prayer. The short definition is the realization of God's love for us, "the love of God poured forth in our hearts by the Holy Spirit, who is given us" (Rm 5:5). Contemplation is the outcome of a faithful life. It means claiming what was there from the beginning. It is the Abba experience of Jesus. In his human life Jesus was filled with the Father's presence and love. Certain events like the baptism or the transfiguration were climactic experiences of that love, but Jesus abided in that love always. He looked out upon the world bathed in the Father's love. He was the "beloved Son," and in him the reign of God was estab-lished on the earth. That reign is the kingdom of God's presence and love. It is the resurrection experience. It fills the world with the grandeur of God. Christian Meditation promises this contemplation. Each practice will not necessarily bring forth a recog-nizable, reflexive experience of that love. But every exer-cise will put one a little more in touch with it and will be an experience of communion, of koinonia, of participation in that love. Transformation is taking place, slowly, incre-mentally, and the Christian is being formed in the Wisdom of God, the Son of God, in whom we live and move and have our being. Christian Meditation can indeed be one practical response of meditation and con-templation in our troubled times. 64.4 200Y Larkin ¯ From Centering Prayer to Christian Meditation Notes 1 Way 17 (1977): 12-22. 2 "Teresa of Avila and Centering Prayer," in Carmelite Studies 3 (Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1984), pp. 203-209. 3 "An Experience of Christian Meditation," Review for Religious 60 (2001): 419-431. 4 See, for example, Brian V. Johnstone CSSR, "Keeping a Balance: Contemplation and Christian Meditation," Review for Religious 63 (2004): 118-133. s John Main: Essential Writings, ed. Laurence Freeman (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 2002), p. 105. Reflection Questions 1. In the light of Father Larkin's prayer journey, how would I describe some major moments in my own prayer growth? 2. "The commitment to Christian Meditation is a commit-ment to a way of life." What meaning do I give to this statement? 3. Let Larkin's story elicit a group's sharing about the joys and difficulties of praying. Review for Religious SEAN D. SAMMON Rekindling the Fire: Vocation Efforts Dear Brothers and all who cherish the charism of Marcellin Champagnat, It is early morning here in Rome. The last guests from Saturday evening's vigil celebration of the founder's feast have departed, the house is quiet, and the first hours of a new day are just beginning to unfold. What better time than the dawn of St. Marcellin's day to begin a letter to you about the awakening of vocations to his Little Brothers of Mary. Please join me in this continuing effort, this continuing prayer. Like so many of you, I believe that God continues to move the hearts of young people and call them to a variety of voca-tions within our church. So let us pledge to do our best to foster their generous response, while concentrating our efforts on those called to our way of life and mission as Little Brothers of Mary. After all, our Marist Constitutions and Sefin D. Sammon FMS, superior general of the Marist Brothers, writes again in epistolary form. His address is Fratelli Maristi delle Scuole; C.P. 10250; 00144 Roma, Italy. calling 64.4 2005 Sammon ¯ Rekindling the Fire Statutes reminds us that to do so is a sign of our vitality as an institute. 3:70 Awakening Vocations Well-designed publications, attractive posters, lively and thoughtful presentations that deal with our life and ministry are all ways of cultivating vocations. They all help young people, their parents, and our church to have a better sense of who we are and what we do, and espe-cially to learn something about what we cherish and hold dear. When all is said and done, however, isn't it actually the lives of thousands of brothers over the almost two-hundred- year history of our institute that are our most effective means to awaken vocations? And so your voca-tional tale and mine are good places to start if we want to understand more fully just what we are trying to do. It does no harm to ask ourselves from time to time what first brought us to the life of a Little Brother of Mary and what keeps us here. My own story began when I met the small group of brothers who staffed the high school I attended in the heart of New York City. Even with the distance of years, I can still remember what it was about those men that captured my imagination and my heart. They were obvi-ously religious people, and they appeared happy in their work together and in their commitment to it. There was a spirit of sacrifice among them that somehow appealed to my adolescent soul. And there was passion. This element is at the heart of any vocation worth its salt. Though I may not have rec-ognized it at the time, I realize now that there were some very passionate men in that small group of brothers. In retrospect I can see that, in their love for Jesus Christ and his Good News and for us their students, they shared with us some of the very qualities that our founder Review for Religious inspired in the young men we know today as Francois, Laurent, Jean-Baptiste, Dominique, and Louis-Marie. Even now I find myself surprised at how subtly God was at work in my life, though I surely would never have used that language when I was fourteen. I have to say that I was blessed early in life to meet those men who took delight in helping a rather uncivi-lized crowd of young men to grow up and grow closer to God. These men--many were young themselves--were willing to waste time on us. Time, it was their only currency, and they shared it with us freely and gen-erously. During the years since then, perhaps in imitation or through the mystery of grace, some of my happiest moments have been with young people, sharing their world, their hopes and dreams, their fears and concerns, their ques-tions of faith. Vocation promotion :should neVer be undertaken solely for survival. Vocations for Mission and Not Survival Vocation promotion should never be .undertaken solely for survival. Nor is it simply a matter of numbers. Numbers are not necessarily a sign of viability, nor is age the best measure of vitality. Our zeal for mission, then, rather than a desire to survive "come what may," must be our reason for awakening vocations. This tradition goes back to Father Champagnat. The ever unfolding tale of our institute records that Marcellin's visit to the bedside of a dying teenager is what persuaded him to found a com-munity of brothers with this aim: to proclaim God's Good News to poor children and young people. We know the story well. Discovering that Jean-Baptiste Mongagne knew ¯ " 64.4 2005 Sammon ¯ Rekindling the Fire nothing about his faith, Marcellin instructed him, admin-istered what were then called "the last sacraments," and went on his way. Returning a short while later, he dis-covered that the lad had died. I have often wondered about our founder's thoughts and feelings as he returned home to Lavalla that evening. We can imagine his pace quickening. We know that almost immediately upon his arrival he met Jean-Marie Granjon, who had been a grenadier in Napoleon's army. Picture their conversation taking place on the bridge near what today is the Hermitage. For Marcellin the mission was clear, the reasons for founding a commu-nity of brothers evident. As they talked on that bridge, our founder's passion convinced the former soldier to join him and give his heart to a corporate adventure soon to be known as the Little Brothers of Mary. Marcellin loved the children and young people of his day. More than once he said, "l cannot see children with-out wanting to tell them how much Jesus Christ loves them, and how much I love them." In today's world many children and young people are the victims of war, human trafficking, and the streets. Denied an education and other basic human rights, they are in desperate need of hearing God's Good News. And so, I ask you, do you believe as I do that the mission of our institute is as urgent today as it was in Marcellin's day, and that it will remain so for the foreseeable future? If you do, then let us agree that the awakening of new vocations can no longer be a sideline attraction for you or for me. Instead, we need to develop a plan for promoting vocations and then put that plan into action. A First Set of Challenges A few challenges before we go on. First, a challenge to my brothers in the institute. If you and I want to make Review for Religious vocation promotion a top priority, most if not all of us will need to arrange our other commitments so as to free up twenty percent of our best time for that work. Why twenty percent? Because there is a lot to learn and a great deal of work to be done. We can all beg off, citing good reasons not to get involved. Lack of time, the demands of ministry, age--who among us has not heard that litany before? But, if you and I want a future for the mission and life of our institute, we need to avoid making excuses and, instead, commit ourselves enthusi-astically to promoting vocations. And now a word to my lay partners. I ask you to join us in our efforts to educate parents, the young people in your care and ours, and the church at large about who we Little Brothers of Mary are, what our life is, and what our ministries are. You know us and know what we cher-ish and hold dear. Help others come to know us as you do. And help us, too, by inviting young people to con-sider making our way of life their own. I have no hesi-tation in asking you to give these efforts top priority. All who share our founder's charism should eagerly promote vocations to the brotherhood he established. God's Good News remains to be proclaimed to more children and young people than we might imagine. And what happens if all of us--brothers and lay part-ners alike--decide not to make vocation promotion a major concern and not to give enough time to this impor-tant ministry? What are the consequences? Some would say that a failure to act and act decisively would dimin-ish the probability of a vital and vibrant future for our way of life and ministry. Others would be harsher. If we fail to act, they would tell us, we probably do not deserve a future. In 1822 Marcellin Champagnat faced a vocation cri-sis, the first in the history of our institute. And how did 373 64.4 200~ Sammon ¯ Rekindling the Fire he respond? By taking action, beginning with his pil-grimage to the chapel of Our Lady of Pity. We do well today to follow his example. Today more than a few peo-ple use the term vocation culture to describe an environ-ment in which a call or vocation can take root and flourish. You and I can foster such a culture by believing that vocations to Marcellin's Little Brothers of Mary exist today and that with God's grace and our human efforts we can find and cultivate them. A Pastoral Plan for Awakening Vocations A pastoral plan to awaken vocations can help us awaken vocations to our way of life and ministry. A num-ber of provinces and districts already have a well- A ,pastoral: p!an to awaken vocations can help Us awaken, vocations to our way of life and ministry: designed plan in place. Time will tell of its effec-tiveness. Other provinces and districts can take time or make time to develop a plan. The plan should be comprehensive and include in its details the province or district, all the mem-bers, each community, and every ministry--and, of course, all the others who share Marcellin's charism and want to help promote vocations. In drawing up any plan, you and I are better off con-centrating on what can be done rather than lamenting things we cannot change. In some parts of the world, for example, families are smaller than in the past, young people have far more vocational options to consider, and they may make their life commitments at a later age. Neither you nor I can do much to alter these realities. We can, though, invite young men to our way of life and ministry once again, and we can open our homes and Review for Religious hearts to them. We can also help them and others to understand all that has happened in religious life and in our institute during the forty years since Vatican Council II. Let us do what we can, and not keep wringing our hands about what we cannot change. In making plans we must be sure they are adapted to the culture in which we live. A universal pastoral plan for vocations is unrealistic. Differences exist between regions, and customs vary. What is quite acceptable in one part of our world is looked upon with suspicion in another. And so I offer below just a few ideas to get your thinking started. Be as creative as you can. And do not forget to include in the plan exactly whatyou plan to do personally. a. Province or District Provinces and districts should have at least one full-time vocation promoter, but everyone should promote vocations. The full-time promoter should help the oth-ers to do what they can. There should be a well-designed program that explains contemporary religious life to lay men and women. Some of our brothers will tell you that they feel shaken by the changes in our way of life during the last four decades. In that case, just imagine how shaken the average Catholic may be. In some countries, for example, people feel betrayed and confused about why we no longer staff the local school and do not live in the brothers' house next to the church. A good program could clarify the reasons behind such changes. It could also show that everyone--the laity, bishops and priests, and men and women religious themselves--has a respon-sibility for recruiting new members for religious con-gregations. Some among these groups appear reluctant to do so. I cannot help believing that such reluctance may stem from a lack of understanding about our life today. Catholic parents deserve special attention. At one 64.4 2005 Sammon ¯ Rekindling the Fire 376[ time they were great allies of ours in awakening voca-tions. Today many parents are confused about religious life, about why and how people are still living it. Where their trust has been eroded, we must work to restore it and enlist their aid once again. Our program could include offering an adult educa-tioncourse in a local parish, or as in-service training for faculties in our schools, or as part of parent-teacher con-ferences, or as an Advent or Lenten series. Some could write articles for their parish bulletin or diocesan news-paper. Others could say a few words during or at the end of Mass on Sunday. The means are not quite as impor-tant as the message: our life and mission as brothers is alive and well and ready to receive new members. The work described above could be coordinated by the full-time province vocation promoter. He should not, however, take on these tasks for a local community sim-ply because its members do not want to. His time is bet-ter spent persuading them that the tasks mentioned are rightly theirs and that they have the resources to accom-plish them. Finally, the media and the internet, where avai]able, have great potential to awaken vocations. Where a province web page exists, the vocation pro-moter should make sure that the topic of vocations appears on it and is effectively presented. b. Local Communities Local communities have many opportunities to pro-mote vocations. First of all, though, they should as a group agree to a common plan that ensures that their work will be effective and that nothing will be uselessly duplicated. Prayer must be part of any community's plan. Along with this, three or four times a year a community might invite groups of young people from their school or parish to an open house that is focused on religious life. Such a visit, particularly if it is well planned, can com- Review for Religious municate more about religious life than a series of lec-tures would. Another community might invite parishioners of all ages for a time of prayer, some refreshments, and some friendly conversation, particularly about religious voca-tions. Many people are willing and ready to participate and help, but they need to be asked. A brother's involve-ment in a parish's youth ministry program can be the occasion for young people to learn more about broth-ers and their life. Lay people involved in youth ministry, especially if they know us well, can also raise the topic or answer questions the young may have about religious life. A community might also arrange to print a pamphlet describing our life and mission and place it in the vestibule of the local parish church. In places where the local newspaper or television station does human-inter-est pieces, one or two members of the community could commit themselves to write an article or be interviewed about our life and ministry. c. Our Works Visibility! That should be the yardstick for measur-ing efforts to promote vocations in the institutions where we serve. Posters, pamphlets, days set aside to present the history, life, and mission of the Little Brothers of Mary--all these should be regular fare in any school or social-service project in which we are involved. Our col-leagues and those whom we serve should know clearly just what it means to be one of Marcellin's brothers. While being happily aware that our schools, parishes, and agencies touch others' lives well beyond themselves, we must not overlook those with whom we share min-istry. There may, for example, be lay faculty members in our schools who have given thought, to religious life and our life in particular, but just do not know how to [377 64.4 200Y Sammon ¯ Rekindling the Fire 378 bring up the subject. We should make sure that oppor-tunities exist to discuss the matter, and that they exist in abundance. d. Each Brother and Lay Partner If you asked me to suggest one thing that you as indi-viduals could do to promote vocations, I would answer immediately: Invite young men that you know to think about making our life and ministry their own. Such an invitation by a brother is the factor mentioned most often by young persons and by those further along in years as well. So I say to my brothers: Awaken vocations, find persons who in good time can replace yourselves. And to my lay partners I say: Awaken vocations so as to ensure a vibrant partnership between brothers and yourselves. Without enough brothers, partnership with you is not possible. To all, I offer this reminder: Personal prayer is most important. So pray for those who have religious life on their minds. Pray for them daily. Pray for them by name. If writing is your gift, put it to good use by writing about our life and mission. And if music, or art, or the media world is your passion, use it to awaken vocations. Teach about our life if teaching is your talent; encourage vocations if your gift is to motivate people. Above all, be creative in planning to awaken vocations. Keep asking yourselves how to use your God-given skills to promote vocations. Give twenty percent of your best time to the effort, and do not forget to invite. Blessings and affection, Se~in D. Sammon FMS Superior General Review for Religious Reflection Questions 1) Spend some time thinking about young people that you know. They might be members of your family, the children of friends, students, those with whom you work in ministry, young people in the parish, or elsewhere. Once you have spent some time thinking about the young people in your life, please turn your attention to the questions below. 1. What is it that you most admire about the emerging generation? Take a moment to explain your answer more fully. 2. What is it about the young people you know that most baffles you? Once again, please take a moment to explain. 3. What qualities do you look for in a young man today when considering candidates for our Marist brother-hood? 2) Spend some time thinking about what you might do individually to awaken vocations during this year ahead. What skills can you bring to the task, what will be helpful to young people, particularly those with an interest in our Institute, how can you best convey the many dimensions of our life rather than one or another? Yes, take some time to pray, seek to understand what God is asking of you this year in terms of awakening vocations, and then turn your attention to the ques-tions below. 1. As you look ahead to the coming year, what steps will you take personally to awaken Vocations? 2. What will you do the first month, during the first three months, during the first half of the year? 3. Is there a way you can combine your efforts with oth-ers to have even greater .influence awakening vocations during this time of grace? Please explain. 64.4 2005 LEO J. HERIOT Don Bosco's Continuing Mission to Youth 380[ Jr~hn Paul II's apostolic exhortation on religious life minded us religious of our founders' charisms and what they offer to us, their followers: "Consecrated per-sons live Jbr God and from God, and precisely for this reason they are able to bear witness to the reconciling power of grace, which overcomes the divisive tenden-cies present in the human heart and in society" (Vita con-secrata 41). And in the same vein we have words that mean much to persons consecrated to a mission: "In the image of Jesus, the beloved Son 'whom the Father con-secrated and sent into the world,' those whom God calls to follow him are also consecrated and sent into the world to imitate his example and to continue his mis-sion" (VC 72). The young John Bosco, the son of Francis and Margherita Bosco of Becchi in Turin, had a unique expe-rience at the age of nine, and we can think his mission Leo J. Heriot SDB lectures in Salesian history and also teaches pas-toral psychology and Scripture in Moamoa Theological College; P.O. Box 9226; Apia, Western Samoa. Review for Religious took root at this very time. He had a strange but com-pelling dream, and this dream would return to him often and remind him of this mission of his. Each vocation is unique, and each calling is special, but for God to call a boy of nine and show him his mission in symbolic form is very special. He told about his dream in his own terms, couched in his own plain language, but it seems that the Lord was surely present in it: When I was about nine years old I had a dream that left a profound impression on me for the rest of my life. I dreamed that I was near my home, in a very large playing field where a crowd of children were having fun. Some were laughing, some playing, and not a few cursing. I was so shocked at their language that I jumped into their midst, swinging wildly with my arms and shouting at them to stop. At that moment a man appeared, nobly dressed, with an imposing appearance. He was dressed in white, and his face radi-ated such light that I could not look directly at him. He called me by name. "John," he said, "you will have to win over these boys of yours not with punches, but with gentleness and kindness. So now begin to show them that sin is ugly and virtue is attractive." At this stage John said, "I am still only a boy. How can I influence these children for the better?" But the man of his dream told him that he was to change these boys by acquiring knowledg~ and being obedient to the Lord. As the young John watched, he saw these boys change into goats, dogs, cats, bears, and a variety of other animals. The person of his dream told him, "This is your field where you must work, and to carry out your task you must become humble, steadfast, and strong!" As he looked again, he saw these wild animals change into lambs. In his confusion John Bosco asked the majestic lady who appeared next to him to explain the meaning of this strange thing in his life. She told him, "In time 381 64.4 200~ Heriot ¯ Don Bosco's Continuing Mission to Youth When he was ordained a priest on 5 June 1841, he wondered what his future work would be. 382 everything will be made clear to you, and you will under-stand your apostolate." The next morning during breakfast John told his dream. His brothers scoffed at his simplicity, and every-one, including his mother and grandmother, had differ-ent explanations for this dream. Joseph, his older brother, said he would become a sheep farmer, and Anthony, his step-brother, told him he would probably become the leader of gang of robbers. His mother suggested that he might become a priest, and his wise old grandmother told him not to take any notice of dreams!. This dream when he was nine influenced John Bosco all his life. His apostolate and his system of education would be based on the reflections of this dream. When he was ordained a priest on 5 June 1841, with little or no fuss about the ordination, he wondered what his future work would be and how he was supposed to achieve the mission planned for him when he was a little boy. He was offered one or another parish or chaplaincy in Turin. Uncertain of his choice, he went to his spiritual director, Father Joseph Cafasso, and placed before him the various proposals. Strange as it may seem, his guide told him to go to the Convitto Ecdesiastico, a residential center where priests studied spirituality and moral the-ology according to the teaching of St. Alphonsus Liguori. It was not an academic institute so much as a pastoral center w.here a lecture was given morning and evening and the rest of the day was taken up with priestly min-istrations to people in prison, to families in their neigh-borhoods, and to patients in hospitals, especially the Review for Religious hospice founded by Canon Cottolengo (now St. Joseph Benedict Cottolengo). Later on, Don Bosco would write about his experience in this clerical convitto: "Here I learned what it means to be a priest." Turin in the 1840s was a town filled with young per-sons looking for work. There had been a drought for a number of years, and poverty in the villages had forced many boys and young men into the town seeking employment. Employment was limited, and before long many of them were stealing food or money to survive. They were coming from Lombardy, Savoy, and as far away as Switzerland. Needless to say, with the influx of these young men, the prisons became full. In Turin there were four main prisons, and they were crowded with boys from thirteen to eighteen. Their crimes were more from necessity than malice. Don Bosco made it a point to visit these prisons, tak-ing with him bread, sweets, and tobacco. The conditions were appalling: overcrowded, unsanitary. Loudmouths and foulmouths aired their hatred when these priests came to visit. Many priests from the Convitto Ecclesiastico found it hard to visit the prisoners living in such sub-standard conditions. One described the boys in prison as caged animals, often aggressive and impervious to the kindness of friendship. In his first visit to the prison, where the juveniles were mixed together with the hard-ened men, Don Bosco was treated with disdain. Just after Easter in 1842, however, he invited some prisoners to make a retreat. His friendly concern was slowly seeping into the hearts of the detainees. Some came around, but the going remained difficult. Still, he persevered with his plans, even with the comings and goings. Boys in one prison might be released all of a sudden, perhaps only to be apprehended again and given a sentence in another prison. 383 64.4 2005 Heriot ¯ Don Bosco's Continuing Mission to Youth 384] The success of this retreat becomes evident in what Don Bosco managed to obtain for the boys. After the retreat he asked the official in charge, Urban Rattazzi, whether he could take the prison's juveniles to Stupingi for a picnic. Rattazzi agreed, provided that some police-men went along. Don Bosco bargained with him for another arrangement, no policemen. At eight o'clock, .:when the prison gates opened, the guards said to one another, "Well, this is the last we will see of some of these 260 wretches!" But, at the roll call at the end of the day, all had returned--showing that a little bit of kindness brings out the best in the worst of children. Another of Don Bosco's apostolates was in the neigh-borhoods of Turin. Industries were growing there, and on the building sites boys as young as ten or twelve were often seen lugging heavy loads of bricks and mortar on poorly erected scaffolding. Don Bosco would argue with the contractors, appealing for the boys' safety. When he first went to the building sites, he would hear the boys sneering and snickering as he passed: Ecco lo prete, "Look at the [good~for-nothing] churchman!" He would reply, No, un sacerdote, "No, a priest [who sacrifices and blesses]." He would invite these young boys to his house on Sunday, and many would come for the meal and the instruction he offered them. As a matter of fact, many of these boys became his first Salesians. Don Bosco had enormous persuasive power with the young. Don Bosco's third apostolate in these early years of his priesthood was in Canon Cottolengo's hospice, the Little House of Divine Providence. True love was found there. Don Bosco's special interest was in the section dedicated to the young. Many young persons coming from villages had become the victims of syphilis and gon-orrhea. As a result of these sexually transmitted diseases, young sufferers often finished their lives in this hospice. Review for Religious Don Bosco would often put his head in his hands and say in humble prayer, "What can I do to help these young people avoid these diseases that are symptoms of a loose society?" One wonders whether the spirit that in the 19th cen-tury motivated St. John Bosco--founder of the Salesians and, as Pope John Paul II called him, the Father and Teacher of Youth--can be found once again in a world that seems to have forgotten the importance of heart for educating hearts. Education without love is incomplete and can only end in frustration. Compensation Foliage fallen from its color's weight leaves emptiness in the treetops. I look up through gaps in their circuitry and see more of heaven than I could in June. And now at night as I lie in bed. the highest branches are abloom with stars. Patricia L. Schnapp RSM 64.4 2005 religious life ELIZABETH McDONOUGH The Council as Catalyst perspective W-hen I entered the convent, John xxIII was pope, and John E Kennedy was president of the United States. He was the first Catholic to be elected president. The USSR's Nikita Khrushchev had already been on the cover of Time maga-zine holding Sputnik, the first successful unmanned spacecraft. Vatican Council II had completed its first session, but no documents had yet been issued. The city of Berlin in what was East Germany was divided by a massive and formidable wall that could be breached only at the risk of one's life. The French had recently withdrawn from Vietnam, and some of my high school classmates had already fled to Canada to avoid the military draft as American involve-ment in that war began to escalate. JFK had already experienced the Bay of Pigs fiasco, and Elizabeth McDonough OP, our Canonical Counsel colum-nist, has written a number of articles for us. She holds the Bishop Griffin Chair of Canon Law at the Pontifical College Josephinum; 7625 North High Street; Columbus, Ohio 43235. Revie'w for Religious the Cuban missile crisis had been concluded without a nuclear war. Martin Luther King Jr. had very recendy delivered his now famous "I have a Dream" speech at the Lincoln Memorial. Elvis Presley had appeared on the Ed Sullivan show, the Beatles had finished their first frenzied foray into the USA, and Betty Friedan's Feminine Mystique had iust been published. Within ten weeks of my entering the convent, our nearly one hundred postulants and novices were at choir practice early on a Friday afternoon in November when we heard that JFK had been critically wounded in an assassination attempt in Dallas. We said a prayer and continued singing, unaware that he was already dead. Of the thirty-four postulants who entered the same time I did, twenty-two received the habit almost a year later. No one seemed to think it unusual that so many of the postulants who had entered nearly a year before had now departed. By the time Vatican Council II had concluded in December 1965, Malcolm X had been gunned down, and the Watts riots in Los Angeles were a matter of history. Less than two and a half years later, Martin Luther King was assassinated in Memphis. Riots immediately left burnt-out buildings, mounds of rubble, and shattered lives in much of the nation's capital as well as in other major cities across the country. Two months after that, in June 1968, Robert Kennedy was assassinated while cam-paigning in Los Angeles. Later that summer, antiwar riots disrupted the Democratic National Convention in Chicago. That same year, Mary Daly of Boston College published The Church and the Second Sex, and Richard Nixon, who had lost the election to JFK in 1960, became president of the United States. By July 1969, when America placed a man on the 64.4 2005 McDonough ¯ The Council as Catalyst 388 moon, only a dozen of the original thirty-four postu-lants were still members of my religious community. One month later, on the weekend in August when I professed first vows, a three-day "Music and Arts Festival" was held on a rural farm in upstate New York near the small town of Woodstock. The admission price was $6 a day. The following spring, in May 1970, students at Kent State University protesting the Vietnam War were shot and killed by National Guardsmen. In that same year, for the first time in anyone's memory of our commu-nity's hundred and forty years of existence, no one pro-fessed first vows. The decade of the 1960s was considered by some as possibly the best of times, and by others as positively the worst of times. For American Catholic sisters, it may simply have been, on the whole, the least auspicious of times for the church to suggest that we reassess every aspect of our lives. From the vantage point of nearly half a century, it seems that Pope John's basic intent in convoking the Second Vatican Council in 1959 may have been to initi-ate a radical renewal of all of Christian life. In other words, he may have envisioned a total conversion of mind and heart on the part of all Catholics and even all Christians. It seems he may have intended to sow the seeds of a personal and collective, intellectual and voli-tional metanoia in all believers, so that what Jesus Christ bequeathed to the church might further the salvation of humanity more effectively than it had the first two thou-sand years. Recall that by January 1959, when the council was first announced, the world had just witnessed the most continuously violent, humanly devastating half century in recorded history. From his vantage point, Pope John possibly considered it high time--or time well overdue-- Review for Religious for the whole church to reassess its meaning and role and self-understanding in face of the crying needs of humanity. Recall that Vatican II was convoked before the Berlin Wall appeared almost overnight, before the Cuban mis-sile crisis, before America's seventeen-year involvement in the Vietnam War, before the multiple assassinations and urban violence of the 1960s, before humanity first looked at the world from the moon, before the first ter-rorist attack at the 1972 Olympics, and before the suc-cessful cloning of animals. The council was convoked before the resolution of South African apartheid, before Sarajevo, before Rwanda, before Pol Pot in Cambodia, before Tiananmen Square in China, before the Lockerbie crash in Scotland, before Somalia, before the Gulf War, before Oklahoma City, before Columbine, and long before 9/11. It was convoked before the Iraq War, before Darfur, before the Beslan grade school massacre, before the impact of global warming, and before the global impact of AIDS. What, indeed, we might ask, would John xxIII pos-sibly think now? Perhaps much the same as he was think-ing in 1959, namely, that the church still needs to take a genuinely new look at itself and at the rest of reality in light of the salvation wrought by Christ's life-death-res-urrection- ascension. Whatever any of us may think, say, hope, or regret regarding the Second Vatican Council, few even suspect that the positive potential of its origi-nal intent has yet been realized. This is in part because much more time is needed theologically and practically to assess and to internalize what it said and did. But the council's unrealized potential is also, at least in part, the result, of widely divergent interpretations of its content and meaning which have been categorically co-opted and systematically disseminated by clearly dichotomous seg- 64.4 2005 McDonougb * The Coundl as Catalyst A catalyst initiates a reaction and enables to,proceed under milder conditions than otherwise possible. 390 ments of ecclesial society. For nearly four decades, both sides of this ecclesial dichotomy have consciously sus-tained their combative engagement at all levels of church life. And they have done so with an energy and efficiency that has left most Catholics exhausted and not really very much renewed at all. Meanwhile, any genuine intellectual and volitional conversion that might more effectively bring Christ's salvation to the complex human and spir-itual needs of our battered world has not been afforded a fair chance to begin in earnest. So it seems to me. The title of this article refers to the council as a cat-alyst. A catalyst initiates a reaction and enables it to pro-ceed under milder conditions than otherwise possible. The council did initiate a reaction. When the council began, sis-ters in my community were all known by the names given them when they entered the novitiate. This change initi-ated us into an ego-effacing formation deliberately created to foster an encompassing new way of life. All our sisters lived in convents with local superiors and did things in order of rank from old-est to youngest according to when we had made profes-sion. We all ate in silence while someone read an article or book judged by the superior to be of some signifi-cance (which was often unknown to us who listened as we ate). We all ate whatever was served, though exceptions were made for personal illness. Some sisters seemed to have some personal illness rather regularly. A few seemed to have some personal illness for as long as anyone could remember. We generally washed our own dishes "at table" in a large dishpan of initially clean, soapy water. Review for Religious With rare exception, we never ate at unscheduled times and never ate outside of our own refectory (our term for dining room). We all had three habits: one for Sunday, one for our everyday apostolate, and one for work. Unlike men's reli-gious communities, wherein a habit could often be con-veniently donned or doffed, our habits were the only clothes we had. They were worn at all times except when we went to bed. We were fully "habited" at prayer, at our apostolate, at table, when working in the garden, when doing heavy housecleaning, and even when occa-sionally sledding or playing basketball with sisters around our age during a school break. Depending on where we were stationed (that is, where we were assigned to live and work), the work we did could be teaching a class of fifty or more students, peeling bushels of fruit, running industrial laundry equip-ment, washing dishes for as many as five hundred people, using large, heavy, institutional machines to wax wooden floors that had already been waxed far too many times before, or cleaning with toothbrushes the metal grids on the edges of three flights of stairs. This kind of work was not punishment. It was simply the way we took good care of things. We did almost all of the work ourselves, and almost everything was in perfect condition most of the time. We never wasted anything. Wrapping paper and ribbons, boxes and jars, aluminum foil and plastic containers--all were saved to be used again and again. Our families would joke about our reusing everything and called it "nunny." Nowadays many people do it but they call it ecology. We ordinarily awakened to a bell shortly after four o'clock and almost every minute of every day was sched-uled with some event or responsibility. We all retired at a specified time, usually no later than nine-thirty. 64.4 200Y McDonough ¯ The Council as Catalyst 392 Permission was needed for exceptions. After the "lights out" time, some sisters read books in bed under the cov-ers with a flashligl~t. Our rooms were rather small (about 8 x 14 ft.), but they usually had everything we really needed. Back then what we really needed were a bed, a bedside table, a desk, a bookcase, a chair, a lamp, a closet, and a small dresser. Every room had a crucifix on the wall and a little bottle of holy water on the dresser. We did not hang other things on the walls, and we did not have nicknacks. In some of our convents, a few sisters lived in dormitories with curtains separating generally equal spaces which contained mostly the same furniture. In some convents the rooms might have a small sink and a small easy chair. We had common bathroom facilities, but often the superior's room had a private bath. Superiors also had a small, separate office, and the house treasurer usually did too. We could write to our family once a week. Family members could visit occasionally, oftener and more briefly if they lived nearby, less often and longer if they lived farther away. On these visits we never had meals together. We ate in the refectory with the sisters, and our families ate in the guest dining room. Any gifts our family brought were given immediately to the superior, who transferred the best of everything to the chaplain or the pastor if they were things a priest could use. We all regularly asked permission from the superior for doing such things as opening our mail, using the books at our disposal, and having necessary personal toi-let articles. About once a month the superior conducted a meeting of all the sisters which was known as "chapter of faults." This had been a salutary monastic practice of publicly admitting to the sisters with whom you lived your own externally manifest foibles and failures and then asking forgiveness. But by the 1960s this practice Review for Religious had been truly trivialized into merely mentioning some fault from a previously prepared list of supposedly light or medium or serious ones. They ranged from leaving something out of place to talking during "times of silence." Things we actually did or failed to do that really annoyed one another were mostly not on the list. It did not matter much what a sister mentioned from the list, because the sisters you lived with were already very much aware of your external foibles and failures. Some were even aware of your internal ones. What we actually did or failed to do that really annoyed each other was seldom on the list, - - but these provided the ever-present, unrelenting, mutual sandpaper of our lives together. Every sister knew it, all too well. Most sisters in local-community convents had sev-eral jobs besides teaching. Shortly after first profession I taught five classes of math a day (algebra, geometry, trigonometry) at a co-ed high school of a thousand stu-dents, was in charge of the bookstore (textbooks, sta-tionery supplies), was responsible for the convent cars (keeping them clean, full of gas, and fixed when neces-sary), was convent treasurer ("qualified" because I taught math), and traveled a hundred miles each Saturday for M.A. studies financed by a National Science Foundation grant. What I was doing was not unusual, it seems to me. But we were much younger then. When Vatican II began, the religious community I entered had 720 members. It owned and operated two colleges for women, three highly successful high schools, and a small hospital. All of these had a sister as presi- Most sisters in local-community convents had several jobs besides teaching. 64.4 200~ McDonough ¯ The Coundl as Catalyst 3941 dent, principal, or CEO. All of these had at least a dozen sisters serving in various capacities. We also staffed sev-eral large Catholic high schools and more than three dozen Catholic grade schools in various dioceses in five different states. We were known for being quite good at what we did, and it seemed to me we were. We related professionally to the lay people with whom we worked, but we never really socialized with them. They were called "seculars," and the sisters greatly outnumbered them. By the time I entered, because learning and teach-ing were central to our heritage, it was rare for a sister to be assigned to teach without having at least a B.A. degree. Many sisters already had or were studying for master's or doctoral degrees. Except for those studying, we all came "home" to the motherhouse and worked there or nearby during the summer months. In mid August year after year, we received any new assignments by hearing a list read aloud to all of us assembled in the motherhouse chapel. We were not consulted about the assignments. The very next day we were all on our way to this or that convent in this or that town, each of us with all our belongings. Back then, those belongings always fitted into one large trunk plus, for some, a small suitcase. The convent in which you landed in those days might be subject to the occasional but dreadfully harmful tyranny of a superior who probably should never have had a position of authority. In those days the mother general--the sister in charge of the whole congregation, who herself was elected--appointed all the local superi-ors. It was only in the mid 1970s that sisters in our local houses got to elect their own superior. The election of the mother general took place every four years at a for-mal, solemn gathering called the general chapter. All the sisters voted for delegates to the chapter, and the dele- Review for Religqous gates elected the mother general and the four councilors who assisted her. Besides the elections, these delegates also made decisions about other things that concerned the whole community. While the chapter was in progress, the rest of us usually did not know much about what was going on, although a few always seemed to know most of what was going on everywhere. In local communities, some superiors treated author-ity as a matter of control and more or less trampled on the sensibilities of others in the house, except for favorites of theirs (for whatever reason). In retrospect, it seems that the favorites were being groomed to become future superiors. Many of them did. The nonfavorites were thankful when they were assigned to another house or when the superior went "out of office." Some incom-petent superiors, recycled in a sort of "lateral arabesque," wreaked havoc again on sisters elsewhere. Such superi-ors were the exception, not the norm. But they were really notable exceptions if they were your own supe-rior. The convent in which you landed could also fall under the diplomatically gloved but predominantly iron hand of a local pastor who controlled everything, from the horarium (our daily schedule) to the purse strings. Back then, financial remuneration for sisters was a pittance. In the early 1970s I was among twenty-eight sisters in a city with one of the highest per capita incomes in the country. Two dozen of us had degrees, some even graduate degrees. We taught in a large diocesan high school or in a nearby parish grade school or worked in a diocesan office. One sister was a full-time cook for the convent. Though not many of us knew how to cook for twenty-eight people, we took turns helping to cook on weekends. Every sister in the convent received a salary of $1,800 per year. Of course, the convent and its mainte-nance were paid for by the parish or school, and we had 64.4 200Y McDonough ¯ The Council as Catalyst 396 three cars for our use, paying only the cost of gas for community trips. At that time there was rarely any for-mal provision for sisters' healthcare, but most necessary medical services were donated by local doctors and den-fists. No one ever even thought of retiring, so no retire-ment funds were ever requested or received. It all "worked" fiscally because there were so many of us and we were so young and lived so frugally. I cannot say we went without necessities and must admit we also had occasional extra amenities that were probably unavailable to most of our own families. Remarkably--or perhaps not so remarkably--we usually sent a monthly surplus to the motherhouse. In that way, convents which had difficulties in making ends meet could be given sup-plements from the congregation's general fund. The gen-eral fund also supported our older sisters when they were no longer able to work, but every sister worked for as long as she could. In retrospect it seems that, if we had received higher stipends, we could have recycled much more of that town's wealth into poorer schools and parishes elsewhere through our sisters' donated services. Like most sisters' communities, we also operated schools where many parents simply could not pay any tuition at all. Wherever you lived back then, ever-present poten-tial pitfalls of our life together centered on the possible overemphasis on externals or a possibly excessive legalism in observing regulations as supposedly indicative of what constituted a "good sister." I label them potential pitfalls because, in retrospect, there may have been only three basic ways for us to deal constructively with the exter-nals and the legalism. These realities seemed to domi-nate the entire ethos of Catholicism in America before Vatican II, and they certainly fit all too comfortably into the total ambience of religious life. But, to be construc- Review for Religious tive about it, you could basically only comply with the externals or you could identify with them or you could try to internalize their meaning. Whether or not a sister was really prone to legalism was somehow related to which of the above options predominated for her. Back then, it seemed that just about any sister who wanted to stay in the convent could learn to comply with just about everything that was asked of her, and most did. Even if you did not like doing this or that, you could usually appear pretty good at doing it. Even novices could learn to comply externally most of the time, or at least enough of the time to be admitted to first profes-sion. At another level, back then it seemed to me that most sisters rather readily identified with the communal importance of what was expected of us for the sake of the bigger picture of who we were together. And most somehow sensed that who we were together was immensely greater than the sum of the parts. So the value of accepting certain externals of our collective identity, such as living and praying and working together or wear-ing the same habit or engaging in common practices, was eventually mostly integrated as part of the overall package that both strengthened and assuaged the ins and outs of the day-to-day reality of our lives. But, at still another level, back then it seemed to me that you could personally and spiritually internalize what-ever you did as fitting somehow in the adventure of hav-ing promised your whole life to God no matter what. It also seemed to me that some sisters, mostly older ones, had actually internalized what it might really mean to live our life within the ambience of all the externals but with a balance and healthiness that had no hint of legal-ism. They seemed to understand that none of the exter-nals were the essentials. They also seemed to understand 64.4 2005 McDonough ¯ The Council as Catalyst 398 that all we did was intended to foster somehow the life we publicly professed and interiorly hoped to live. I think we all truly hoped to be good, maybe even holy. And I think we all truly wanted to do good, no matter what we actually happened to do. From the deeper, longer, wiser perspective of these seasoned sisters, the externals seemed to matter less, even though they were faithful in observ-ing them. For sure, very early on, I knew I definitely wanted to belong someday to the last group just described. In the midst of all this, it also seemed to me that most of us were happy and productive most of the time. We mostly tried to be prayerful women as best we knew how and to be responsively obedient in sometimes diffi-cult circumstances. For the most part, we had fun with one another, good clean fun, much more often than onlookers may ever have suspected. For the most part, we were quite competent at what we did in significant areas of education, study, and learning. And the regimenta-tion of much of our life even afforded some sisters the opportunity of serving others much more effectively than they might have done on their own. Somehow, in com-munities of women religious forty years ago, in some real way, we really were family to one another, warts and all. And through it all, perhaps in spite of it all, we were definitely not all alike, and we knew it. We knew that no visible similarities rendered us actually similar. But we knew, too, that in many ways all was not well with the way we lived and that much could or should be effec-tively changed for the better. From the moment conciliar documents were avail-able in English, the sisters in my community enthusias-tically read and studied them. The promulgation of the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy in December 1963 had enormous positive consequences for American Review for Religious Catholic sisters. Until then, other than Mass, prayer in common for sisters in communities with post- Reformation origins often consisted entirely of medita-tion in common, various litanies~ multiple rosaries, and numerous devotional prayers composed by whoever had founded them. In these communities the meditation topic was usually chosen by the superior, announced the evening before, and had an obligatory format usually fol-lowing standard steps adapted from Ignatian spiritual-ity or from a variation of the 17th-century French school of spirituality. Sisters in communities tracing their her-itage to before the Reformation usually prayed a short-ened "little office" consisting of psalms, with antiphons and responses in honor of the Sacred Heart, the Blessed Virgin Mary, or others. These communities also prayed the rosary in common, but usually had fewer litanies and devotional prayers. Meditation was always in chapel together at an early hour, but a common meditation topic or specific method set by the superior would not usu-ally have been obligatory. Before the council, for the most part, only clergy were considered as officially praying the official Divine Office in the name of the church and as part of its offi-cial worship. Indeed, even if nonclergy prayed the same Divine Office from the same books, it was not considered participation in the church's liturgical prayer. Very soon, however, sisters in communities of any heritage began chorally praying the psalms of the breviary and finding this practice to be immensely more meaningful than their previous devotions. The promulgation of the Dogmatic Constitution on Divine Revelation in November 1965 also proved particularly significant for American Catholic sisters, who responded instantly and enthusiastically to new or renewed biblical studies. But no conciliar document altered the reality of reli- 64.4 200Y McDonough ¯ The Council as Ca~alys~ gious life for sisters in apostolic congregations in the United States more than the Decree on the "Accommodata Renovatione" of Religious Life promulgated in October 1965. The Latin phrase accommodata renovatione is delib-erately retained here, not to be pedantic, but because this cryptic description of what was apparently intended for religious life is not easily translated and because one common translation--"adaptation and renewal"--is sim-ply not correct. This erroneous translation, however, was at first used so frequently that dichotomous expla-nations arose describing "adaptation" as pertaining to external elements of religious life and "renewal" as per-taining to internal, spiritual matters of religious life. The title actually called for the entire reality of religious life to be renewed or restored or refreshed or revived in a suitable or fitting manner. This was quite in keeping with John xxIII'S intention that the church more effec-tively bring the riches of salvation in Christ to bear on humanity's immediate and ultimate needs. To this end, article 2 of Perfectae caritatis made clear that effective renewal should occur under the influence of the Holy Spirit and with church guidance. It would involve returning to both the sources of Christian life and the initial inspiration of religious communities as adapted to the altered conditions of current times. PC (Perfectae caritatis, not personal computer!) affirmed fol-lowing Christ in the Gospels as the supreme rule of life for every religious, while urging acceptance and retention of the community's original spirit and aims and sound traditions. It encouraged religious institutes to foster church initiatives in keeping with their own proper char-acter. It mandated that communities should help their members to better understand human realities, world conditions, and the needs of the church. It strongly reaf-firmed the profession of the evangelical counsels and Review for Religious clearly emphasized the importance of spiritual renewal. Article 3 of PC asked every religious community to harmonize its life, prayer, and work with the physical and psychological condition of its members, and it asked us to do likewise in relation to the apostolate, the sur-rounding culture, and overall economic circumstances. It mandated examination of the community's mode of gov-ernment and called for proper revision of constitutions, directories, customs, prayers, and ceremonies in order to bring them into sync with changes promulgated in other conciliar documents. Article 4 of Perfectae caritatis urged the cooperation of all community members in the renewal effort, which it particularly entrusted to competent internal authorities such as general chapters and legitimate superiors. At the same time, it required superiors to consult with com-munity members and to actually listen to them. So it seemed to most of us that someone somewhere who had worked on the formulation of PC must have known that many things might need changing from the way they were back then. All this was prescribed in the context of our individ-ual response to a divine call to express our baptismal consecration more fully by living solely for God with an apostolic orientation in service of the church (articles 5 and 8). Not surprisingly, PC reaffirmed that the three evangelical counsels commonly professed by religious are spiritually and humanly efficacious for fostering maturity, responsible interaction with authority, and con-structive life together. The reordering of the traditional vow sequence from poverty-chastity-obedience to chastity-poverty-obedience was noted, though there was no evident reason for it (articles 12-15). PC also mandated alteration of religious habits inso-far as they were not conducive to hygiene or were no 401 64.4 2005 McDonough ¯ The Council as Catalyst Women religious in the Unl,ted States took these conciliar mandates)~,~- and challengers quite.seriously,; responding to them with astounding interest and concerted action. 402 [ longer simple or were not genuinely attuned to apos-tolic needs (article 17). It initiated longer and more com-prehensive formation (article 18) and urged maintenance of current ministries while simultaneously calling for a renewed missionary spirit (article 20). And it pointedly reminded religious everywhere that the "example of their own lives" was the best invitation for others to join them in this way of witness in the church (article 23). Without a doubt, women religious in the United States took these conciliar mandates and challenges quite seriously, responding to them with astounding interest and concerted action. And, without a doubt, Vatican II was a catalyst for renewal. It initi-ated a genuine, whole-hearted, enthusiastic response on the part of American Catholic sis-ters regarding who they were, how they lived and prayed, what they did, and what they were being called to do. On the other hand, from the vantage point of hindsight, it is now rather clear that many changes in religious life catalyzed by the coun-cil did not proceed under the milder conditions that cat-alytic conversions are supposed to make possible. In most communities of American Catholic sisters, experimentation in living and praying and working seems never to have ended, while in some communities their living and praying and working seems never to have changed. In most communities of American Catholic sis-ters, constitutional revisions seem never to have found Review for Religious the last, best way of expressing what sisters really want to say, while in some communities only grammar and syn-tax seem to have been altered, and only minimally. In most communities of American Catholic sisters, corporate apostolates have almost completely disappeared, while in some communities apostolic endeavors seem to have remained exactly the same as they were forty years ago. In most communities of American Catholic sisters, many members wear completely secular attire, while in some communities the sisters' only attire remains a Sunday or weekday or work habit, one of which is worn at all times. In most communities of American Catholic sisters, many members live alone in rented apartments, are responsible to no internal superior below the gen-eral council (now commonly known as a leadership team), find their own jobs, visit relatives at their own convenience, organize their own work schedules, and are basically responsible for maintaining their own well-being. In stark contrast, in some communities life is very much the same as it was forty years ago: all sisters live in convents, are assigned to ministry with little consulta-tion, have local superiors, follow a standard horarium, eat in common, wash dishes at table, never visit their families overnight, and--among a plethora of other per-sonal human constraints--may still be permitted to shower or bathe only once a week. This article refers to the council as a catalyst. In ret-rospect, it is clear that the catalytic impulse of the coun-cil occurred during a decade of rapid and sweeping cultural upheavals in the world. In retrospect, it is also clear that in the United States the catalytic impulse of Vatican lI coincided with conditions of extreme social turbulence. Ostensibly genuine responses to the man-dates of Vatican II during a time of great and ongoing social unrest seem to have resulted forty years later in a 64.4 2005 McDonough ¯ The Council as Catalyst far more than minimal divergence in the ways various communities of sisters in America live and pray and work. From what appear to be the result of forces in play forty years ago, in merely human terms the 1960s may have been the least auspicious time for the church to have sug-gested that American Catholic sisters should reassess every aspect of their lives. Indeed, it seems that strongly affirmed good inten-tions and long-sustained earnest efforts have actually brought American Catholic sisters to diametrically opposed positions of immense disparity in spirituality, theology, apostolic endeavors, internal structures, and overall functioning. In four decades of trying to achieve an accommodata renovatio, many communities of American Catholic sisters appear to have unconsciously but enthu-siastically adapted themselves into impending oblivion, while some other communities of American Catholic sis-ters appear to have consciously and steadfastly remained basically unrenewed. And, in this ongoing process, the genuine challenge of Vatican Council II for religious life as a gift to the church--and to the waiting world-- remains as yet overwhelmingly unrealized. Or so it seems to me. His Smile Radiant goodness broke out from ear to ear a would-be down of pain turned up a smile ingratiating, inviting a welcome sign to an open heart; a home. I stepped in and stayed awhile. Walter Bunofsky SVD Review for Religious CHRISTIAN RAAB Monks' Stability and Punxsutawney Toe 1993 Harold Ramis film Groundhog Day is the ry of a television weatherman named Phil, played by Bill Murray, who soon finds himself in a time warp. As the film begins, Phil is cocky, sarcastic, and self-important and resents being sent to the small town of Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, to cover the Groundhog Day festival. He spends the day ridiculing the provin-cialisms of the people, bragging about his chances of becoming an anchorman, and trying, rather rudely, to charm his attractive ~producer, Rita, played by Andie MacDowell. At day's end Phil's TV crew gets snowed in. Phil awakens the next day to discover that it is February 2 once again, though he is the only one who seems to notice. He relives the whole day, encounter by encounter, no more gracefully and with even more frustration than he had the day before. He finally goes to bed, hoping that he has gotten over the world's worst case of d4j~ vu. He awakens, however, to find that it is February 2 for Christian Raab OSB is a newly professed Benedictine monk at St. Meinrad Archabbey; 100 Hill Drive; St. Meinrad, Indiana 47577. 64.4 200Y Raab ¯ Monks' Stability and Punxsutawney the third time. These repetitions continue for the rest of the movie. Phil quite clearly has become stuck in Groundhog Day. As he keeps reliving this day and reencountering the people in it, Phil's reactions change--from utter frus-tration and angry outbursts to something else. He real-izes that a life without consequences beyond one day can be used for unbounded pleasure seeking. When he tires of this, he turns his attention toward winning the heart of Rita. He spends days figuring out who the perfect man is in Rita's eyes, and then he pretends to be this person. Needless to say, it does not work. Phil responds with despair and, believing it is the only way out of his private hell, tries again and again to end his life. After each attempt, however, he awakens to the same song on the radio and sees that it is still February 2. Finally Phil recognizes that his selfishness is getting him nowhere. He begins to live for others. He gets to know people and responds to their needs. He feeds a homeless man. He is kind to an annoying character. He helps counsel a young couple. He knows what time every day several old ladies get a flat tire and hurries there to fix it for them. He knows what time each day a young boy falls from a tree, and he rushes there to catch him. Discovering that he has a gift for music, he develops and shares it. He becomes part of the community he once ridiculed, and at last, by forgetting himself, he escapes his fate and reaches February 3. There is something about Phil's Groundhog Day that living as a novice in a Benedictine monastery resonates with. Benedictine iife, especially in the novitiate, is very structured and repetitive. Every day begins the same. At 5:15 a.m., the bells announce Morning Prayer. After Morning Prayer is breakfast, then private spiritual read-ing. At 7:30 a.m. we return to church for Mass. When Review for Religious this is over, we may grab a quick cup of coffee before the workday begins at 8:30 a.m. Coffee break is at 10 a.m. At noon comes Midday Prayer and then lunch, fol-lowed by work or class again at 1 p.m. At 4:30 p.m. the workday ends. The monks go back to church at 5 p.m. for Vespers. After this we have another period of private spiritual reading, and then at 6 p.m. we meet for the evening meal. After dinner, monks are usually free to recreate, study, or go to bed, as the case may be. The monk ends his day, goes to sleep, awakens again the next day to the ring-ing of the bells, and the cycle begins again. It is - - a structured, repetitive, and somewhat predictable life. In some ways, every day feels the same. Of course, this structured life is not just a repetition of practices. More important, it is a repetition of encoun-ters with people. It is easy to know that a particular brother can be expected to sit at a particular place in the refectory during breakfast. A certain father will be arriv-ing at the coffeemaker at 7 a.m. Some monks will sit on this side of the calefactory during coffee, break, and oth-ers will sit on the other side. We expect to see certain monks in the computer lab before we open the door. We know who will almost surely be playing cards after supper. We become familiar with the sounds of monks' breathing and walking. We begin to know who will like a book and who will hate it, who will take a joke and who won't, who likes hugs and who doesn't, who prefers the mornings and who prefers the evenings. In the way that monastic life provides a series of repeat encounters This structured life is not just a repetition of practices; it is a repetition of encounters with people. 407 64.4 2005 Raab ¯ Monks' Stability and Punxsutawney 408 and practices, it is not much different from Groundhog Day. The monk, unlike Phil, voluntarily chooses this life of repetitive practices and encounters in connection with the vow of stability. The vow is a monk's promise to stay in the same place with the same people and engage in the same monastic practices for the rest of his life. Like all the vows, stability is a means toward the end of con-version. Our Brother John Mark explains that stability aids conversion by providing a sure and solid context in which the human will may conform to the will of the loving God. He compares the human will to a steel rod that, in conversion, is bent into conformity with the divine will. One cannot bend a rod without having something strong and solid to hold it in place. This is what stabil-ity does. It provides the strong and solid foundation that makes conversion--the bending of the rod--possible. Stability means the monk stays put. He commits to repeat his day over and over again in the same place with the same people doing the same things. And so the monk, in a very real way, is choosing to do what Phil did invol-untarily, to stay in one place, to relive and reencounter while being transformed. Repetition can help us with this transformation, not merely by keeping us surefooted, but by supplying and resupplying opportunities for loving choices. For exam-ple, because I am in this repetitive life, each day I have the opportunity to be more attentive in liturgy, and to be more open in prayer, than I was earlier. As I live and work each day alongside some people who annoy me, I have the opportunity to "love my enemies," to set aside grievances, to practice patience, to exercise charity. Each day I have the opportunity to anticipate needs in the elderly monks, to clean things with more care than I did Review for Religious the day before, to listen with more receptivity to the lonely and the needy. Because so many of our experiences and encounters repeat themselves, I am, each day and always, given the opportunity to be humble where I was proud, to be chaste where I was lustful, to be calm where I was angry, to be forgiving where I was unforgiving, to be assertive where I was a pushover. In this way, stability, by its rep-etition, can be accepted as a great gift on the path to holiness. The monk who perseveres can, like Phil, be trans-formed. Like Phil, we may come to this life with prob-lems of self-centeredness, sarcasm, conceit, anger, despair, or lust. But, if we are open to the grace that comes with living, out stability in a monastic community, we, like Phil, may be transformed into persons of char-ity. In the last scene of Groundhog Day, Phil has finally "gotten it right" and the morrow has finally come. On the morning of February 3, the now-transformed Phil says to Rita with joyful single-mindedness, "Is there any-thing I can do for you today?" It is this monk's hope that he may be able to start his own day, each day, with the same happy singularity of purpose, saying to my broth-ers and to God, "Is there anything I can do for you today?" ZPlease:note that the phone and fax number for the editorial offices of Review for Religious :have changed. The new numbers are: PHONE 31'4-633-4610 :and FAX 314-633-4611. 409 64.4 2005 the ANDREW RYDER Led by the Spirit: St. Augustine spirit 4101 St. Augustine's reflections on Christianity were very original and also much influenced by the facts of his own life. He forged his ideas 6n the hard anvil of his own conversion and his need, as a bishop, to defend the teaching of the Catholic Church. This combination of speculation and experience gives his writings a unique ongoing relevance. Their blending of the theoretical and the practical is nowhere more evident than in his teaching on the Holy Spirit. His Spirit doc-trine develops through three movements: his agonizing effort leading to his conversion, his need as a pastor to explain the church's doc-trines, and his awareness that the action of grace is the love of the Holy Spirit dwelling in our hearts. Fortunately, the key to understanding these three movements, and indeed all of Augustine's theology, is his most popular com- Andrew Ryder scJ presents the second of his four arti-cles on the Holy Spirit. His address is St. Joseph's Retreat Centre; Malpas; Cheshire SY14 7DD; United Kingdom. Review for Religious position, the Confessions. This work records his long-drawn- out struggle to find God. The Confessions The opening words of the Confessions set the tone. Augustine's masterpiece is not a sorrowful account of past misdeeds. It is not a lurid description of a misspent youth, but rather a joyful poem praising the God who has delivered him from sin and error: "Can any praise be worthy of the Lord's majesty? How magnificent his strength! How inscrutable his wisdom! Man is one of your creatures, Lord, and his instinct is to praise you. He bears about him the mark of death, the sign of his own sin, to remind him that you thwart the proud. But still, since he is a part of your creation, he wishes to praise you" (Conf 1.1).' The Confessions are not an autobiography in the mod-ern sense, but rather a profession of faith in the majest

Issue 63.3 of the Review for Religious, 2004. ; Communal Discernment . Heritages Prayer Vocation QUARTERLY 63.3 2004 Revlew for Rel~igious helps people respond'and be faithful to Goit~s universal call to holiness "by making available to ~be~° tbe spiritua! legiicie~s tbat flow from the cbarisms of Catbolic,~consecrated life. 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 ¯ ~reb 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 ¯ St. Joseph's Provincial House 333 South Seton Avenue ¯ 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 subscription rates. ©2004 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. 0 for religious LIIV~NG OUR CATHOLIC LEGACIES Editor Associate Editor Canonical Counsel Column Scripture Column Editorial Staff Vdebmaster Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Eugene Hensell OSB Mary Ann" Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp Clare Boehme~ ASC Steve Erspamer SM Kathleen Hughes RSCJ Ernest E. Larkin OCarm Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Terry Steib SVD Miriam D. Ukerids CSJ QUARTERLY 63.3 2004 contents 230 communal discernment Election and Communal Discernment: Goals, Myths, and Gifts Ted Dunn clarifies some of the reasons for using communal discernment as a method for electing leadership. 244 249 heritages Frances Siedliska's Mystical Life Barbara Sudol CSFN enters us into the mystical prayer experiences that marked the life of Frances Siedliska, foundress of the Congregation of the Sisters of the Holy Family of Nazareth. Is Even More Good Coming from Nazareth? A. Paul Dominic SJ gives witness to the new form of religious life represented in the Little Brothers of Jesus. 263 274 prayer Not for the Faint of Heart: Journaling into Honest Prayer Ren~e Nienaber SND shares her experience of journaling in prayer that brings both focus and perspective in our relationship with God arid with others. A Hidden Treasure of the Ignatian Exercises J. Thomas Hamel sJ describes experiences in the life and writings of St. Ignatius Loyola which give an insight into prayer as "looking." Review for Religious Fidelity and Commitment: Letter to a Young Marist Brother Sefin Sammon FMS as superior general writes a letter to his brothers below age forty about nurturing the commitment to their vocation. 305. Vocations and Vocation Discernment Charles J. Jackson sJ describes vocation in terms of the initial call people experience and their ongoing responsiveness to God's action in their life, and then uses this description to explain vocation discernment in terms of preconditions and repeated process. 316 Why One Younger Religious Stays Terri Emslie PBVM reflects on her own growth in religious life in the face of personal gaps and the gaps of others within the same congregation. 228 Prisms 323 Canonical Counsel: Religious Institutes as Juridi~ Persons in Reconfiguration 329 Book Reviews 63.3 2004 prisms Everyone receives the divine call to be holy. For God is the One who calls us all to "be holy as I am holy." The Vatican II docu-ments re-emphasized this universal vocation to holiness. In our Catholic tradition, vocation tends to remain a word restricted to the calls of priests and bishops and women and men vowed in the consecrated lifeform. But everyone is being called by God to grow in holiness, that is, in his or her relationship with God. And everyone is called by God to a way of living out this holiness. To learn God's idea of this way of living, we need to pray, especially to listen to God. We need to reflect with the word of God. We need to take in the opinions and advice of others, especially friends and those who know us well. In other words, we need to be in a process of discern-ment if we are to attune ourselves to the way that God seems to be drawing us to fulfill our basic vocation to holiness. As one recent writer notes, there is no lack of vocations in the church. Rather there seems Review fbr Religious to be a lack of awareness among church members of the twofold call: to holiness and to a particular ~ay that God has in mind--for us to respond to. If all Catholics took seriously the personal calling from God, we would find ourselves in a church and a world in which the kingdom of heaven was being made the more visible. We would have a church that was alive with people in the tradi-tional ~service roles. Listening for and responding to God's call is the necessary foundation for a continuing Pentecost experience in our day. Closer to home, there have been a few different "call-ings" among the Review for Religious advisory board members. Brother Adrian Gaudin SC left the board some months ago when he found it necessary to cut back on his commitments. Sister Raymond Marie Gerard FSP has been assigned to new work in the Roman headquarters of the Daughters of St. Paul. Bishop Carlos Sevilla SJ has completed his six-year term. Brother Steve Erspamer SM, artist and liturgical design consultant, brings his expertise to our journal world. Sister Kathleen Hughes RSCJ, currently provincial of the United States province, offers her liturgical and theological wisdom. Bishop Terry Steib SVD, bishop of Memphis, Tennessee, contributes his experience of religious life, along with his ecclesial vision as bishop. As editor, I acknowledge my debt of gratitude to our three retiring board members. At the same time, I wel-come with great pride the three new members who bring such wonderful gifts in their counsel for Review for Religious. David L. Fleming sJ 63.3 2004 communal TED DUNN Election and Communal Discernment: Goals, Myths, and Gifts discernment For fifteen years my wife, Beth Lipsmeyer, and I have, as facilitators, been privileged to accom-pany many communities through communal dis-cernment leading to the election of leadership teams. We have discovered that there are not only wide-ranging views on what communal dis-cernment is, but also varied expectations regard-ing what it will achieve. In other words; beyond the election, What does communal discernment offer communities and what does the "commu-nal" part mean? On this topic there are myths, commonly held beliefs that no longer apply. In addition, while increasing numbers of commu-nities are using communal discernment, many of them focus so much one the outcome (the election) that they fail to see the gifts they are receiving along the way. I offer here some reflections on what I con-sider the worthwhile goals, common myths, and Ted Duma is a clinical psychologist. He and his wife operate Comprehensive Consulting Services; 6217 Mid Rivers Mall Drive, Suite 294; St. Charles, Missouri 63304. Review for Religious subtle gifts of communal discernment. There is, of course, no one right way to understand communal dis-cernment; every community defines its own objectives and ways of using it. With this article I invite your reflec-tions. I hope communities will dialogue among them-selves about how to get the most from the communal discernment they use in their elections. Goals of Discernment Like flipping a coin or agreeing that the majority rules, discernment is, after all is said and done, just another way to make decisions. Unlike flipping a coin, however, there is nothing random or quick about it. Discernment is intentional and requires a great deal of time if it is to be done well. Unlike a simple, democratic vote, in discernment it is the Spirit, not the majority, that rules. In communal discernment it is deepening partnership, rather than well-conducted campaigning, that ensures integrity and brings persuasion. The communal discernment we are discussing seeks the election of the best leaders. It is, however, about more than just choosing leaders. Another goal is to engage you in the drama of a deeper story, your collec-tive story, as it continues to unfold. In communal dis-cernment, bonds of partnership are formed and re-formed, woven together with your charism and your traditions and with questions of who you are called to become. Communal discernment offers all members the opportunity to influence how your leadership should function, to shape the team's values and style of working. A third goal .of communal discernment is to shape the nature of the partnership between elected leadership and membership. I would like to elaborate on this, for it appears central to the yearning of many communities. Communal discernment can create new ways for leadership and membership to be together. This includes 63.3 2004 Dunn ¯ Election and Communal Discernment sharing the same vision. To do this, to have the same vision living inside each member, they all must have some degree of ownership of it. Looking toward the future, they must, as partners, share in some detail how they envision it and what they hope to contribute to it. Communal discernment invites this kind of heartfelt talking and listening, such fostering of shared hope. Communities yearn to be able to share one another's gifts more fully, to affirm one another more fully, to feel more deeply the possibilities and power inherent in their being together in one community, no matter what their individual positions or ministries. Communities appear to be struggling for a deeper kind of partnership laced together by their personal commitments to, and their emotional investment in, their collective future. They want to become freer by having greater personal respon-sibility. This kind of partnership does not just happen. It may be a promise of faith, but it is formed by experience, tested by challenges, and re-formed through expressions of care, the anguish of confrontation, and the hard work of reconciliation. In communal discernment, opportu-nities abound to shape the partnerships you aspire to achieve. Communal discernment enables you to reflect, both personally and collectively, upon where your com-munity seems to be heading, what your vision of the future is, what your communal needs are, and what indi-vidual and collective gifts you possess to work with. Ideally, communal discernment will affirm and assist each and every one of you in your search for clarity and wisdom as you together appreciate your collective truth through a new kind of partnership. Thus, along with (1) choosing your leadership, com-munal discernment also enables your communities (2) to discover the values and style of leadership you want for yourselves and (3) to build the kind of partnership Review for Religious between elected leadership and membership that will enhance your preferred future. Myths of Discernment What follows are seven myths that I commonly hear expressed in our work across communities. While I have my opinions about these myths, I do not have definitive "answers" about them. My purpose in mentioning these, however, is to evoke conversation among you about what you believe. Eliciting your own understanding of your attitudes and belief about these seven so-called myths may help you to appreciate the terrain through which you will make your way during any future communal discernment efforts. Myth 1: Discernment is primarily between me and my God. Traditionally this has been true. Discernment has traditionally emphasized one's deeply personal and prayerful search for God's will. In recent years, however, communities have developed and emphasized the inter-play of personal and communal prayer. Beyond individ-ual prayer, communities are stretching the boundaries of personal discernment to include conversations as a way to hear what the Spirit is saying. In communal discernment, open dialogue pools the wisdom of your personal efforts so that together you can discover God's intentions. Personal and communal prayer, personal and shared reflection and dialogue, are increasingly the norm for the discernment used in elec-tions. Discernment is no longer just a private matter between you and your God. It is between you and your God, but also with and among all your fellow members bringing their God-given inspirations and longings and wisdom. Myth 2: Leaders are elected to represent what I want and believe. In a democracy, leaders are elected to "repre-sent" their constituency. People cast their votes for the 63.3 2004 Dunn ¯ Election and Communal Discernment In discernment the emphasis is on the process, not on the outcome, the election itself. candidates they believe will best represent them and speak up for their interests. These politicians are elected, in part, as conduits for the voices of their constituents. In discernment the emphasis is on the process, not on the outcome, the election itself. In fact, in the process there must be "detachment" from the outcome. This is necessary for people to hear what God may be asking, to hear the truth as it unfolds. Detachment from the outcome is meant to aid in listen-ing honestly to what is really being revealed rather than to what you already know, or expect to hear, or want or do not want to hear. In other words, if what someone tells you, or asks you to look at, seems to assail the out-come you prefer, you might stop your ears from hearing it. Setting aside your preferred outcome helps you to listen more honestly. If communal discernment has been done carefully, the subsequent voting expresses the wisdom of an enlightened group, not contentious efforts to put one's own candidate into the office. The power of individuals to enlighten, to forge partnerships, to stir vision, to cooperate in one another's future, is not limited to vot-ing. Your community's power in discernment is limited only by your difficulties in listening, your inhibitions about speaking, or your complicated efforts to get oth-ers to'speak for you. Discernment invites all of.y6u to give full voice to your most authentic truth. In a dis-cerned election, voting is only one of many oppor(-uni-ties (perhaps the least influential of all) to have your voice heard. Leaders called forth in this way are not so much elected to represent what you believe and to speak Review for Religious for you, but rather are affirmed to partner with all mem-bers in forwarding the movement of your community's mission. Myth 3: Discernment is primarily for those who are endorsed. From my perspective, and in our preferred approach to facilitating, communal discernment involves everyone in the community from beginning to end, not just those endorsed. Everyone goes through each phase of communal discernment, and everyone is invited to participate in processes along the way. Individual and communal prayer takes place throughout, Individual and shared reflections take place throughout.The interplay between personal and communal discernment is a dance that begins.with the preparations for endorsements and concludes with the election. While sometimes separate and sometimes together, all members (not just those endorsed) are engaged in discernment, and any process that is done separately needs to reconnect with the whole so that. there truly is a communal discernment. Our approach to communal discernment encourages the pooling of wisdom from past leadership and from those endorsed, from supportive,~ collaborative, .and deliberative members. Everyone is invited to submit endorsements, and these are the basis of invitations to the first discernment gathering, such as a discernment weekend. Those who attend come with the wider com-munity's blessings, input, prayers, and concerns, includ-ing expressions of desires and critical issues. Afterwards these persons bring to the community, at the "discern-ment assembly," their presumed group enlightenment. They share what they have found helpful and pertinent, and in turn they listen carefully to the wider commu-nity's wisdom--so'that all have a better basis for their continuing discernment. No matter how many phases or gatherings there are, the emphasis in communal discernment is to bring t 63.3 2004 Dunn ¯ Election and Communal Discernment together into unity the fruits of every individual or group discernment. Open dialogue, sharing discoveries along the way, and making decisions (such as to withdraw from the process) only in the context of the whole--all of these bolster trust in the overall discernment and in one another. Myth 4: Those with fewer endorsements are not serious contenders. Those with one, five, or fifty endorsements are of equal voice and value to the communal discern-ment. Each person endorsed, regardless of numbers, has been validly called. All are asked to consider themselves potential leaders and to discern with the Holy Spirit and the community. The Spirit is present to all, whether endorsed or not, and not more or less present according to the number of endorsements. It is a mistake to think of endorsements as a straw vote or, worse yet, as a reflection of the number of friends you have that believe in you. Endorsements are signs that people believe that you may have the quali-ties needed at this time in this leadership position. Numbers are not as important as what the endorsements invite you to explore. Those with the most endorsements may not be elected, and those with :one endorsement could be. We facilitated an election wherein a sister with one endorsement was ultimately elected after discern-ment had its deep effect on both her and the commuo nity. Endorsements are a departure point for conversation, an invitation to dialogue, and not a straw vote or a test of popularity. Do not expect numbers to satisfy your discernment questions, about either your faith or your future. Myth Y: Discernment means logically weighing pros and cons. Discernment, at its heart, is about searching for what God intends. While reason and logic are impor-tant, they are not of preeminent value. In discernment the irrational is not irreverent. Irrational processes of Re~iew for Religious cognition, such as our intuitions and our hearts' desires, are very much pa.rt of what leads us to God. We are made of head and heart, body and soul, mind and spirit. All of these are real. All are valid. Perhaps we can learn and appreciate better what God intends by allowing our-selves to be more fully ourselves, to embrace our human-ness in all its dimensions. That reason and our intuition, or logic and our feel-ings, may sometimes conflict is not itself a problem. Nor are we called to ignore one in favor of the other. Each of these different kinds of infor-mation needs to be understood in its own right. The invitation here is for deeper integration, not muting one in favor of another. What you think is right may conflict with how you feel. What you know may conflict with what you intuit. What you should do may conflict with what you want to do. Conflicting emo-tions and reasoning and intuitions .are signs that your dis-cernment is not as complete as it could be. The journey of faith often invites us to explore pos-sibilities beyond the boundaries of what reason and logic would dictate. Discernment is, in its essencE, a faith jour-ney, and, because there is a communal dimension to this, you are invited to make this journey with one another. Pros and cons are important to look at, and so is spiritual growth. Filtering the qualities needed for leadership is important, and so are opportunities for reconciliation. Assessing your future needs is important, and so too is the struggle to reinvest in community when your past wounds would urge you otherwise. Reason is important, and so is grace. Myth 6: Tbe election is where my voice really matters. Some may think that all this discernment talk is nice, What you think is right may conflict with how you feel. 63.3 2004 Dunn ¯ Election and Communal Discernment but in the end "I'I1 get my vote, and that's all that counts anyway." This is perhaps the biggest myth of all. In years past, when some were chosen to be delegates at chap-ters or senates, votes were the ultimate expression of the voices that mattered. If you were not chosen,, your del-egates carried your voice. If you were a delegate, your voice, expressed through voting, had the same weight as that of other delegates. Your vote expressed not only your own desire, but also spoke for those members not in attendance. The delegates were .often seen as privi-leged, and indeed they were, for only their voice was the one counted in the end. Whether through Robert's Rules or other rules, the voices heard at the time of election were confined to carefully laid-out rules of procedure. Votes equaled voice, and this voice was .the power of a privileged few. Most communities have moved to,open chapters or senates, whereall of you are invited to choose your own mode of participation .(supportive, collaborative, delib-erative). Everyone is offered the privilege of voting and, more important, the privilege of discernment. Your abil-ity to affect the shaping of your future, and to deter-mine the leaders to help you do so, is entirely~ dependent upon your personal choosing. You can be of little influ-ence if you choose minimal .participation:or have a great deal of influence if you involve yourself more deeply. Your voice matters at every step of the discernment, not just during the few hours you spend casting ballots. Your votes will be counted in the end, but, during the months that precede the voting; itis your discerning voices that count the most. In communal discernment the ones who shape the ultimate outcome are the ones who dialogue along the way, who listen and share, who invest in this faith journey and in one another. Myth 7: Discernment is mainly about cbtosing the most qualified. From our perspective, focusing upon the most Review for Religious qualified is as flawed an approach to discernment as its countercorollary, that you should elect only those per-sons who see eye-to-eye and can get along well. I believe that it is important for team members to have differ-ences and be able to work with them, that process is as important as outcome, that tasks are as important as rela-tionships, and that the ability to work as a team is as important as any team's constellation of gifts and tal-ents. You could elect the best and brightest, but, if they cannot get along, if they cannot gel into a cohesive work-ing unit, you will not see the best of what they have to offer. Likewise, if you elect those that get along with-out regard for the differing gifts and talents needed, you will not get a leadership adequate to your needs. From our experience of working with a variety of teams, the composite of its members' talent is effective only to the degree that the "team" functions as a team. In other words, the talent will have its desired proper effect only if there is also a commitment to. stay in the struggle: not give up on one another or the tasks at hand, deal with conflict rather than avoid it, work through dif-ferences honestly and directly, do the hard work of repairing trust when it is broken (mend wounds and clar-ify misunderstandings), speak out of principle and com-passion, and so on. Discernment can assist communities in electing indi-viduals who have the flair and the desire or willingness to work as team members, but teams are not elected. Rather, the individuals elected form themselves into a team. It is, however, incumbent upon those electing to look at more than the composite of talents, at more than the rtsum~s. How homogeneous or different the team members are in their styles, beliefs, and abilities is impor-tant only insofar as the composite captures what you have collectively claimed is important. No one person has all of these gifts, but as a whole the team you elect 63.3 2004 Dunn ¯ Election and Communal Discernment should resemble what the community has discerned to be necessary both in mixture of talents and in preferred style of working together. Gifts of Discernment: Wisdom, Relationship, and Light At any given time some of you can see farther and better than others. Some of you are around the curve and up the hill before others. At another time someone else may have the greater vantage point and see what is on or over the horizon. On journeys everyone has a unique perspective to offer. Some can see what has been, others can see what is, and still others can see what is probably ahead. All of you play a part in understanding and discerning the collective truth. One sign of a discerning group is that it allows for its communal "truth" to be born from the womb of the whole. The truth that r~diates from everyone, if shared by all through open dialogue in the Spirit, can become a wisdom that is beyond the sum of all the contributions. When imbued with the Spirit, communal discernment can transcend individual wisdom and thereby bring a deeper understanding of God's intentions. I would like to offer a quotation (source unknown) that expresses what I consider the heart of communal discernment: "I sought my God and God abandoned me; I sought my soul and it eluded me; I sought my brother and sister--and found all three." This is very much the essence of discernment. It is a spiritual group pilgrimage inspired by our strong human desire for relationship and our search for love and understanding. It is persohal, but it is also spiritual and relational. Communal dis, cernment involves private and shared prayer, private and shared reflection, private and shared understandings of how the Spirit is experienced within each of you and among all of you. You choose this journey in search of Review for Religious God's will in order to decide personal and shared direc-tions. You commit yourselves to this soul-searching, truth-telling pilgrimage out of your yearning to be closer to God and one another. Communal discernment is, without question, an invi-tation to walk intimately with one another. Communal discernment is not a side-by-side experience wherein you share fruit that you found by yourself in prayer. It is an ever deepening conversation about your faith and your experience of one another along the way. You are invited to share not only good things you have found, but also your labor: you are to share in giv-ing birth. It is an awesome invitation to meet God in another human being and to discover who that stranger is on the road to Emmaus. We human beings often seek God when we are dis-turbed, when we are displaced from our comfort zone of the known, the familiar, and the safe. It is because of our poverty, our powerlessness, because of becoming aware of our fractured selves, that we. seek the healing, understanding presence of God and one another. The gift of our disturbance is that our passions are unearthed, the status quo is challenged, and what we have always known is no longer enough. We yearn for, and are fright-ened by, God's invitation to enter the mystery of our humanness. Yet our faith tells us that new life is found here, in the struggle, in this privileged place where Jesus lives. This place, where we meet Jesus in one another, is a profound gift of discernment. Communal discernment also offers the gift of light. It challenges you to recognize how you can fool yourself When imbued with the Spirit, communal discernment can transcend individual wisdom. 241 . 63.3 2004 Dunn * Election and Communal Discernment in order to get what you want and camouflage it as being "of God." It challenges you to catch how you hide from yourself and eclipse a deeper truth. This is where you are invited to reckon with your hidden payoffs for keep-ing your.own goodnes~ under wraps. This is where you can ask yourselves questions like ".What does grace enable me to be?" and "What on earth is holding me back from claiming this?" This is where your loyalties to the way things have always been, to the relationships that have given you life, come face-to-face with your fidelity to the truth you keep getting more awareness of. This is where current realities insist upon new wineskins and new patterns of being and relating. This is where your growing edges encroach upon the status quo of relationships, causing you to look anew at what you have hidden from one ~nother and kept from the people you love. Discernment is an attitude of listening, listening to the intimate whispers of God through prayer and through your conversations. It is a quiet process of attun-ing yourself to God's voice, giving special attention to urgings toward new life. Listen for the yes that radiates from within. Listen to fugitive t.ruths, and do not turn away-from newborn insights, so that all of you together manage to hear and see more truth. Listen to everyone as if you are listening for the first time, without conjur-ing up the cries of your old wounds .or letting the white noise of a hundred thumbnail reputations blur your attentiveness. Listen to God's urgings toward a future just beyond your grasp, but. reachable if you let go and give yourself to it. The paradox of discernment is that once you have adapted and become adjusted, once you have privately prayed, sifted, and sorted, you must again "let go" and be influenced by the Spirit working within and among you. You must be willing to take in new information, feel new Review for Religious feelings, and again be influenced by one another. You must seek the gift of interior freedom, of spiritual indif-ference, as to the outcome. Ideally, you will find a way to hold all personal agendas and desires, all hopes and wishes, all values and passions, in an attitude of openness. Ideally, you will experience being deeply rooted yet hold-ing on to things lightly. In this kind of freedom, God's intentions and those of all of you are together. This is neither blind Obedience nor stern self-denial. Rather, it is a transcending of self with eyes wide open as together you follow, or keep trying to follow, God's lead on this journey of faith. God is ceaselessly inviting us into the mystery of relationships, the mystery, of our humanness, the mystery of our life in Christ. ' Late August Blooms are bur, ning themselves out in backyard gardens. During evening's lengthenihg gloom the whirring chhnt of Iocu's.ts ebbs "and rises. '. ." Musk of squash and pumpkin n~w replaces headier,scents ofMayand June. You tooare seasoned, pausing between ripeness and the threadbare husks of winter. But within you the blueflame of chicory along country roads burns like a votive candle before the God of harvests. Patricia Schnapp RSM 63.3 2004 BARBARA SUDOL Frances Siedliska's Mystical Life heritages Frahces Siedliska was born on 12 November 1842 in Roszkowa Wola, near.Warsaw, Poland, of aristocratic parents, Adolph Siedliski and Cecilia Morawska Siedliski, and died in Rome on 21 November 1902. Her parents were wealthy landowners in the village of Zdzary, where their manor was situated. She had one sibling, a brother, Adam. In her early life Frances displayed intelligence, a love for beauty and music, and an elegance and maturity beyond her years. She also had a quick temper and a tenacious stubbornness, often matching her father in a clash of wills; In 1875, at the age of thirty-one, she would found the Sisters of the Holy Family of Nazareth,~ but in her childhood, religion was all but absent in the Siedliski home. Her parents, like other contemporary Polish aristocratic families, were indifferent to reli-gion. Materialism, rampant worldwide, and positivism discarded all that was supernatural, including religion. The nobility, identifying Barbara Sudol CSFN writes from 61-03 56th Avenue; Maspeth, New York 11373. Review for Reli~ous ,Catholicism with Polish patriotism, became the defending wall of the church, yet it did not know the church, did not understand it, and did not give wimess to it by their lives. (Strzalkowska, 16) Such an irreligious familial atmosphere had its effect on Frances's spiritual life. She walked in the darkness of religious ignorance until a Capuchin friar, Father Leander Lendzian, prepared her for her first Holy Communion, on 1 May 1855. He opened Frances's soul to religion and a growing spiritual life, notwithstanding much pressure from Adolphe Siedliski, who desired his daughter to live a more worldly life and enter into a mar-riage befitting her social station. But such a life was not to be for Frances. Her love of God grew throughout her life until her death in 1902 at the age of sixty. Her auto-biography, journals, letters, and other extensive writings to her sisters and to various members of the clergy give testimony to this love. Early in her religious life, Frances experienced the spiritual passivity of mysticism, a passivity that would enable her to give more and more of herself to God. She writes: In his mercy Jesus continued gifting me with ever deep-ening prayer., so that at times nothing else mattered, only., sometimes he takes away from me the ability to meditate, to have any feelings, and directs me to an immediate experience and acceptance of his holy truth. Then he suspends my faculties and . . . fills my soul according to his divine pleasure. (Strzalkowska, 58) Always she looked to God for her consolation and support, even in the midst of great difficulties, for with her emotional and mental suffering came physical suf-fering. Her health was flail, but, remaining in close union with God, she never permitted it to stop her from ardu-ous travel and time-consuming correspondence. As a foundress she went through all the rigor, heartache, legal-ism, and deprivation that are part of the early days of any 63.3 2004 Sudol * Frances Siedliska's Mystical Life foundation, all the while progressing on .the mystical way and entering more fully in(o deep prayer and union With God. In her diary she writes: "I knelt at Your fee~, and you drew my soul to yourself. It s~emed to me that I had left my body and was .moving toward you, my Love." She continues: "Later I fell into a deep stillness. My spiritual faculties were absorbed into a glorious intuition of God, of my Lord Jesus. At that time no word, no feeling, seemed appropriate or timely. I nee'ded to be drawn by and submerged in the love of my God" (Strzalkowska, 64). But there was even more.,Before,the end of her life, Frances was given the grace of espousal with God. In her diary she writes: ¯ I was at Mass at St. Claude's . My soul remained near Jesu~s in a spirit of elation. After Communion I experienced a strong desire which I expressed to.him , present within me. I asked Jesus to espouse my soul forever . Yet, as i pondered what it means to be a spouse of God, and as I looked at myself, I had not the courage ~o ask Jesus for this great grace. Instead, I humbled myself and abased myself while in my heart I sensed this message: "What I am doing for you now consider as an espousal, for I am espousing you to myself, uniting your soul to mine." (Strzalko.wska, 66) She wrote, kneeling, the constitutions and statutes that her congregation would ~idopt as their way of life, and she kriew the joy as well as the disappointment that comes with living in community. At her death she left two hundred and ninety-one sisters on both sides of the Atlantic, and a total of seventy-two youthful novices and postulants who would find in Nazareth their incentive to scale the heights she had envisioned; she was relinquishing without misgi ~vings twenty-nine ¯.houses .of Nazareth, centers of apostolic services in Europe and the United'States. (De Chantal, 128) In Frances Siedliska there was the delicate combina-tion of deep prayer life and vigorous-activity. Her coop- Review for Religious eration with God's grace was a daily undertaking, a con-scious decision to refuse Godnothing. For her generosity God gave her everything, including the heavy burden of the cross. "In .the mystical life, one passes from one layer to the next in an inner or downward journey to the core of the personality where dwells the great mystery called God--God who cannot be known .directly, cannot be seen, and who dwells in thick darkness" (Johnston, 127). If she experienced the dark night of the senses through her continual death to self in her relationships, journeys, and hardships in establishing the congregation, she also entered into the dark night of the soul, particularly in 1892, when she was fifty years old. Father Anthony Lechert, who had been her spiritual director and also a director for her Nazareth community, was removed from that position by his re.ligious superiors as a result of calumnious reports about him and his dealings with her and her sisters. In Frances Siedliska there was the delicate combination of deep prayer life and vigorous activity. 1892 marked the beginning of the mys.tic passion of Mother Siedliska; it would perdure another ten years and end with her death . Her physical suffering was accompanied by prolonged and oppressive moral suffering which, as the consequence of the event~ of 1892, she was compelled to bear and which she accepted in fullest conformity to the divine will. (Ricciardi, 244) Frances entered into her personfil dark night of the soul while continuing an indefatigable active life as foundress of her growing congregation. "Some circum-stances, particularly those surrounding the difficulties 63.3 2004 Sudol ¯ Frances Siedliska's Mystical Life of 1892 and the years following, including problems that affected the American foundation, placed Mother Siedliska in the crucible of calumny, a victim of treach-ery and lack of understanding" (Ricciardi, 379). Witnesses gave written testimony to the fact that Frances remained steadfast in her devotion to God and to the congregation, offering forgiveness to those who had injured her reputation and even personally doing good to them. To live a mystical life is no easy task, but the path of mysticism begins in a progression of steps. Only rarely are people given the grace of apophatic mysticism, as Frances Siedliska was. By her great love she gave her-self completely to God. Her greatest legacy to her reli-gious community was her belief in love: God's Love and her own love for each person. She understood the gospel imperative to love and knew well how difficult loving is in practice. God had already given himself to her as her Good Shepherd, her Rock, and her Lord. Note ' Actually Frances Siedliska founded the congregation when she sought and obtained on 1 October 1873 Pope Pius IX's approval and blessing to begin the Congregation of the Sisters of the Holy Fa~mily of Nazareth. In Rome in 1875 she opened the first permanent convent of the congregation. Works Cited De Chantal, Sister M., CSFN. Out of Nazareth. New York: Exposition Press, 1974. Johnston, William. The Inner Eye of Love: Mysticism and Religion. San Francisco: Harper and Row, Publishers, 1978. Ricciardi, Antonio. Hi~ Will Alone: The Life of Mother Mary of Jesus the Good Shepherd. Trans. Regis N. Barwig. Oshkosh, Wisconsin: Castle-Pierce Press, 1971. Strzalkowska, Sister M. Inez, CSFN. For Me to Live Is Christ. Trans. Sister Mary Paul Krasowski CSFN. Pittsburgh: Sisters of the Holy Family of Nazareth, 1995. Review for Religious A. PAUL DOMINIC Is Even More Good Coming from Nazareth? On what would be one of my happiest days as a Jesuit, I went to a religious house in a village, at that time the only house of its kind in India. (That was about thirty-five years ago, when I was a student of the-ology. Today there are only two such houses in India.) The house, unlike other religious houses I had lived in or seen, was in no way different from the other houses in the village street. It belonged to the Little Brothers of Jesus. Three of them, two from France and one from Belgium, were living like the villagers in almost every respect except that they worked with the leprosy patients, prayed together regularly as Christians in an Indian way, and, unlike Indian males especially of those days, cooked their own meals. Welcomed into their little tiled house of four small rooms--including a kitchen, a chapel, find a storeroom for medicines used in their paramedical work--I felt much at home and that religious life itself was at home there in close contact with the people around. I saw the brothers being all things to all people, learning the cus- A. Paul Dominic SJ writes again from Missionaries of the Poor; Fatima Nagar; Warangal 506 004; India. 63.3 2004 Dominic ¯ Is Even More Good Coming~/~om Nazareth? toms and beliefs of ~eir Hindu neighbors, joining their celebrations, speaking their Tamil language though amusingly with a French lilt, preparing and enjoying the local variety of quite spicy food, lending an ear to the varied tales of the young and old, lending a measure of rice occasionally, or just giving away a handful of chilies when a neighbor ~ent her child asking for some, and so on--ahd I felt a new thrill regarding religious life, at once Christian and Indian! The people of Alampoondi, the village in which the brothers had settled, witnessed all that, but they had no idea of their identity except as foreigners and Christians. With their little knowledge of church matters, they could not of course have any idea of the newcomers' being members of a religious congregation, the Litde .Brothers of Jesus. Did even knowledgeable Christians know of their existence? Like myself, hardly any of my theology companions had heard about their surprising way of life, although the Little Brothers, admittedly few in number, were keeping.up a quiet and unassuming but distinct presence on all the continents. A New Charism of Living and Working The Little Brothers' charism, as I learned from the brothers in India, is to live as Jesus lived at Nazareth, unknown and unheralded but unfailingly helpful in lit-tle ways. Who would want such a charism? ~About the Little Brothers who have taken to it eagerly and seri-ously, an outsider like me can say that they have shown themselves faithful to it. The first Little Brothers who came and settled in India have not given up hope of their continuing presence although they have attracted less than a half dozen Indian followers despite the consid-erable numbers of religious vocations here. In October 1933 Ren~ Voillaume and a few of his friends, all of them newly ordained, left their native Review for Religious France and went to E1-Abiodh-Sidi-Cheik in the Algerian Sahai'a and started living the Nazarene charism as a group. VoiHaume served as their elected prior from the beginning till 1965. On 13 May 2003 he died .at the age of ninety-seven. His death, if I am not mistaken, did not get much attention in the Christian. press or even among members of religious orders and congregations, let alone in the secular world. Maybe it could not have been different, but I incline to think that it was what it should hav.e been, given his and his brothers' choice to live in today's world like Jesus at Nazareth, in hidden mystery amid plain or harsh earthly reality. He died just as he had lived, with no splash of publicity for having accomplished some widely recognized good, though of course God knows all he did in the Nazareth-like places where he and his brothers lived. I came to know of his death by chance, but at the very' place where I first felt the spell of his humble charism. Here I would like to present an account of it as a loving tribute to Voillaume, and I hope a true one. The Original Recipient of This Charism ¯ The inspiration for Voillaume and his companions was an aristocrat named Charles de Foucauld (1858- 1). Though born in a devout Catholic family .and educated in Jesuit schools,Foucauld turned his back on Christianity at sixteen and entered military service only to quit it because of his undisciplined and even disso-lute ways. Later, around 1880, he went on an expedition to unexplored parts of Morocco and returned to pub-lish his findings in a book that won him fame. Still he was restless, least suspecting that the human heart is restless until it rests in God. In late October 1886 he found himself converted, in the confessional though he had gone there without wanting to confess. Once he was converted he knew the raison d'etre of his existence: to 63.3 2004 Dominic ¯ Is Even More Good Coming from Nazareth? live for God and only for God. He came to discover the person of Jesus as God's incarnate Son. He entered and left the Trappists and then became a priest, only to feel a compelling urge to be like Jesus not only inwardly but even outwardly. Out of love he wanted to reproduce in himself the life of Jesus at Nazareth, hidden, humble, hardworking, and helpful to others. In a letter he describes himself thus: The ,gospel proved to me that the "the first com-mandment" was for me to love God with all my heart, and that I must put everything within that love; and, as everybody knows, one of the effects of love is imitation. ¯ . . I did not feel at all made for imitating him in his public life and his preaching; I consequently knew I must imitate the hidden life of the poor and humble workman of Nazareth.~ As he delved into the hidden treasure of Nazareth, he found that he could not keep it private: his newfound pearl of vision was not for himself alone. He hoped that it would become a pattern of life for others too. But, however much he wanted to have companions to live with him, he was not to have even one up to the day he died tragically. Even his tragedy was not perceived as greatness. He died as the two French soldiers visiting him did, victims caught in a tribal conflict, shot in the head by a frightened Tuareg youth. What could the worth of his life be? But his story, told only briefly here, got circulated in his native France. Surprising stories began to be told of men and women, young and old, married and unmarried, from different walks of life, who sought to live in the spirit of Jesus the Nazarene somewhat as Foucauld did. Such was his influ-ence within a decade after his death that at least one col-lege removed a biography of Foucauld from its library for fear that too many young people might be drawn to his unusual example. Review for Religious The Nazareth Brand of Religious Life Among those who could not deny his impact on their life, Voillaume and his four friends may be ranked first. They were the first to attempt as a group to live their lives according to Foucauld's vision, and their attempt has stood the test of the times. Their fraternity (as they liked to call their group) centered their life on Jesus' way of living at Nazareth. Voillaume has reflected on this and spoken of Nazareth as a complete form of reli-gious life. Following Foucauld, he discerned in Nazareth a type of religious life undreamt-of before and, I am afraid, largely unknown even now. Religious life modeled on Nazareth is distinct, he pointed out, from the hidden life of many a traditional novitiate. It is unlike the lives of Carthusians or enclosed Carmelites, and it is also dif-ferent from the lives that ded-icated lay people lead in the footsteps of Jesus, the work-man at Nazareth. These three versions of Nazareth do not go beyond certain aspects. Voillaume's version diverges from them in discovering something new, even though it is at one with all the earlier forms of religious life inas-much as it does not swerve from the spiritual reality of freely promising to God, with the public approval of the church, to live in chastity, poverty, and obedience. Instead of following the Jesus of the public life, the Little Brothers follow the Jesus of the hidden life. They renounce a distinct habit, large or isolated buildings of their own, and large enterprises or projects. They choose to live like the ordinary worker that Jesus was: poor and humble and unavoidably involved with and even depen-dent on others. They live in an aura of prayer, much Their fraternity centered their life on Jesus' way of livin, g at Nazareth. 63.3 2004 Dominic * Is Even More Good Coming from Nazareth? prayer, so as to grow in favor with God and their fellow human beings as Jesus, did in ,Nazareth.2 Some of this may seem to ignore things indispensable to religious life. But are they? Or are they just means for0a particular way of living the three vows? And can one: not conceive of a~true religious life that makes less use of traditional means and ye~ proves to be a sure road to the ex;angelical perfection of the joyous embrace of the three vows? In this spirit Voillaume says: Such a road has been opened up for us by Father de Foucauld. It lies in sharing the lot of the workers and the other poor, with all the consequences involved, and being a living presence of Christ among them) Voillaume explains this new spirit and style of religious life: Less attention is paid to sheltering oneself off from risks by means of separations, or to being helped by observances superimposed upon one's daily occupa-tions, than to ordering one's entire life into a single moy.ement of charity for Christ and or_tier people, and learning to use the very difficulties attendant Upon such a life as so many mean~ to self-dispossession and the very concrete realization of one's profession of the . three vows? A Name of Prideand Humility . The Nazareth-based form of religious life described above may be further appreciated by reflecting-on the name that Voillaume and his companiong; following Foucauld; gave to their group: Little Brothers of Jesus. No one can. mistake where .their love was. Their love was not .for ~an unusual, heroic, rele~cant ideal surpass-ing the old, but for Jesus; and so they gave their hearts, their.very selves, to the person of Jesus. By their name they.made a claim on Jesus;~ ofbelonging to himand his belonging to them. (In this they have measured up'to the holy ambition of the,original b'and of Jesuits,. and Review for Religious may have stolen a march on some of my brother Jesuits.) The brothers' loyal love is not a romantic thing. They have found him whom they love in persevering faith, in their common Eucharist, in the Gospels, and in their neighborhood,s In their very love for Jesus, they turn to people and attend to their urgent, unfilled needs such as their need for justice. They are. wise enough not to be misled: they know the lurking temptation of sincere Christian apostles to think, in Voillaume's words, "that one does not have the time to look towards Jesus and love him as he should be loved: for himself." He coun-sels his Little Brothers that they have their set task right there: It is to act as the "regard" of men today upon Jesus, to be in Jesus' presence the "standing delegates" of the forgetful crowd, carrying to him in their place their adoration, their needs, their complaints, and their faults.6 Are they here inspired by Jesus' approval of Mary of Bethany "wasting" costly ointment on him? By their name Little Brothers of Jesus, they mean to express how their love of Jesus marks their way of loving others, including one another. Voillaume can say to his brothers: If we are to be of any "use" at all in the world,' it will be for having been faithful enough to allow a bit of Christ's immense love for men to appear through our.hearts and our comportment . If we are really united with our Lord, if we keep our eyes trained upon.Jesus living and working at Nazareth, then, like Father de Foucauld, we shall be able to remain open to people's solicita-tions. 7 So, as brothers of Jesus, they become brothers of all according to the revelation that all people are to be con-sidered brothers and sisters and not titled personages (Mr 23:8-10). Abhorring all superiority, they behave as 63.3 2004 Dominic * Is Even More Good Coming from Nazaretb? brothers who imitate Jesus in his redeeming love. Inspired thus, they contact specially the poorest just as they are and because of what they are, persons bereft of all power. In doing this they are aware of God calling each one by.name in the intimacy of lovefl and so they too aim at reaching out to individuals as if each one were the only soul to be loved in the world. They do not cal-culate their mission success in terms of administering and applying approved techniques and technologies. If in their love they feel the urge to give Jesus to people and help people find their lofiged-for kingdom of God, it is in the unglamorous way of being the salt of the earth or the world's ordinary daylight.9 Voillaume challenges his brothers: So long as our love has not reached the point where it has made us truly capable of showing them that the kingdom of Jesus is for them, and that it has even begun to be present in their midst through us, we shall not have met the demands of Jesus' love upon us. The kingdom must be able to appear to them through us in all its realness: th~ patience, the peace, the force of Christ, and also Christ's demands for justice--all this enveloped, as it were, in love and void of all hatred (even when it is right to fight),l° Another challenge, even a greater one, facing the Little Brothers is love among themselves. Though this challenge may appear common to all religious, the Little Brothers are not quite the same. Modeling their very lives on the homely life of Nazareth can foster mutual friendship in a supernatural way. Voillaume says: It is our Lord's friendship that has gathered us together, and the human features of friendship, visible in ourselves, are something we must labor to produce. It is our duty gradually to become true friends, even though it may seem that by nature we are not self-evidently made for each other.~l Review for Religious This is something that I am afraid may often slip the attention of religious of every kind. The brothers choose to be litde. They choose to live within littleness, the mystery of littleness. It is a part of their learned ignorance (docta ignorantia). I have been amazed by their fund of knowledge and grasp of what is going on among religious and in church circles and in the world at large. Is it because they are little and thus open to learn? Being little, they also surely strive to keep grow-ing in their love of Jesus and of their fellow human beings. The proof is that they embrace the hard way of the poverty of little people. Knowing, however, that such a life and such a mission are impossible for humanity's lit-tleness, they look to God, for whom everything is pos-sible (Mt 19:23-26). Their way of mission is so different from the usual apostolates that it may not even seem to be mission work. In traditional Christian circles, eyebrows are surely raised at the Little Brothers. Failing to understand what they intend by their style of life, their poverty and their appar-ent unproductiveness, many Christians, including ecclesi-astics, may consider them useless for the church. But, following their own vocation, the Litde Brothers opt to be unprofitable servants in the eyes of people who do not-- but to my mind should--know better. They know that, if they are to instill the beatitudes in people's hearts, no activ-ity that takes them out from among the poor, the mourn-ful, the hungry, and so forth would be in keeping with the little way marked out by Jesus for them.~2 Their name, Little Brothers, expresses Jesus' humble and soaring spirit. A Mission Common and Yet Uncommon For a further understanding of the Little Brothers' charism, reflect that their mission is to be, in little ways, hands of Jesus in touching the lives of his least brothers and sisters. Though the Little Brothers share with other 63.3 2004 Dominic ¯ Is Even More Good Coming from Nazareth? religious congregations one and the same mission from Christ, the way they discharge it is unique,13 as indeed it should be in the case of every charism. A simplistic and falsifying view must be avoided here. Voillaume is very insistent on this. He points out that well-meaning peo-ple could give a wrong picture of the Little Brothers' mission with a "wooden and detestable definition" such as this: "The Petits Fr~res are not engaged in this activ-ity or that; they must not be involved in anything, but simply give an example."14 As Voillaume envisages it, the Little Brothers' life is to be far different: They will be poor in all things except God, and be of little apparent use, sharing the weariness of those who labor, their sole purpose being the proclamation of the Savior's gospel. They will submit their thoughts and deeds to the divine friendship in order that they may make known to those around them the infinite mystery of that friendship towards men, hidden from all eternity, but revealed to us in the heart of Christ.~s Their lives are, then, obviously bound up with two vibrant movements closely combined: being or becom-ing oneself enriched with God and also enriching others, particularly the masses of poor laboring people. Their twinned vocation may be expressed as contemplation of God and comforting their neighbors by their presence. These two elements, invisible and visible, which consti-tute the life of the Little Brothers, are commonly viewed as mutually exclusive. People contrast the contempla-tive and active vocations, or else see them as combined, but with prominence given to action for the good of the neighbor. The Little Brothers give equal importance to contemplation and their neighbors' good, but their con-templation is not like that of the cloistered,16 and the help they give their neighbors is far from the various well-defined goals of apostolic communities. Some brothers have lived as regular members in a Revie*v for Religious kibbutz in Israel. They shared and enjoyed the life and work there as much as the others did. Living poorly, they appeared happily settled, though unmarried. They impressed others as lov-ing, and they surprised them by praying regu-larly and unashamedly. The young Israelis were intrigued enough to ask what made them live like that. They were told that, if they were really eager to know, they had better contact some of the many religious in Tel Aviv. But they would not; they said, "No, we don't want to hear from others; we are not interested in their codes or customs. What we want is to understand your life from your own telling.'"7 One of the Little Brothers was a prisoner among prisoners, though known to the authorities to be inno-cent of any crime. He had sought and found admittance to a prison, and lived there sharing the life of the con-victs and offering them his unsought presence and friendship. Surely the prisoners needed to be instructed and converted, but the lone brother was not there to serve as a chaplain, nor did he mean to function as a social worker helping them to find money for their needs or to establish contact with their family or to do some-thing of the kind. What he wanted was to love them as a friend, standing by them and sharing with them all the physical and mental hardships of imprisonment though he himself did not deserve them2s In such circumstances the brothers are not concerned with expla!ning them-selves to people, but with so doing things with them or Their twinned vocation may be expressed as contemplation of God and comforting their neighbors by their presence. 63.3 2004 Dominic * Is Even More Good Coming from Nazaretb? for them that they cannot avoid being aware of God's nearness in some slight way at least. The Little Brothers' particular grace and genius in this matter may be expressed in one word, presence, total pres-ence to God and total presence to the poor people around, a presence that cannot but be humble. It may be called unpretentious prophetic presence, that is, the presence of a prophet drawn by God to himself and sent to people and sent by their plight back to God. It is reminiscent of Jesus' long years at Nazareth: ever turned toward God and toward the needy people near at hand. Whatever Jesus' double stance might have looked like, one thing is certain: he would have been burning with zeal for God's mission among these burdened people. His zeal showed itself in the temple at the dawn of his adulthood and would have continued during his adult years at Nazareth. There, how-ever, it could ordinarily find expression only in his daily commonplace contacts with people, and could only be fully exercised fully in the realm of the Spirit. In the Spirit he was attuned to Abba, his Father, and to his Father's mys-terious mission of compassion for the human race. At the same time he was intimate with the people in and around Nazareth, in a way that was both human and divine. That is to say, he looked upon and loved and desired the good of everyone he met, in accord with his Father's love and desire.19 This was, then, contemplative attention to God and to people needing redemption. It was a contempla-tion of God's compassion and of people's condition in the light of God's personal care for them. Such contempla-tion can occur only with the constant activity of God him-self in life's present moments. Such a life is one of intercession for people, and the people may perceive it as such. The Little Brothers learn to do as Jesus did. Voillaume explains: In our time this awareness has become more vivid than ever, and it has reached the point when many have Review for Religious come to feel that they must give concrete expression to this permanent commission to pray in the name of mankind by really sharing the circumstances of men's lives. This new way of imitating the life of Jesus of Nazareth, this summons to be united with that Man- God who was also one of the workmen of his native village, is in fact a development in the nature of prayer itself. Our own vocation has followed this course.2° One of his Little Brothers put it more simply and sharply, to the delight of Voillaume: "We are the voice of the poor, their liturgy.''2~ Each Group in Its Place For those who are still wondering about the import of this vocation, Voillaume has said: The Brotherhood's position in the church is very hum-ble, and their way of life must not be interpreted as a criticism or a failure to appreciate the other forms of the apostolate which the church approves. At the same time, the apostolate of the Petits Fr~res seems to meet a new need for the evangelization of the world which it is well we should realize)~ In saying this he shows the healthy tension of a man who appreciates the continuing value of traditional approaches in the present, and yet cannot deny the new demands that our changed times make. I think this is what Brother Michael, his successor as prior general in the 1990s, meant by what he wrote to me in a letter: "Ren6 Voillaume has been given an unusual charism: he trans-mitted the message of Nazareth life against his own feel-ings!" So it seems the inheritors of that charism have to live experiencing in themselves the attraction and tension of bipolar ideals. More could be said, but let Ren6 Voillaume have the last word: The ideal of life of the Petits Fr~res through its twofold requirement of contemplation and of pres- 63.3 2004 Dominic ¯ Is Even More Good Coming from Na~aretb? ence among men, and also through the nature of the means envisaged for carrying it out, constitutes indeed a new and original form of religious life.23 Notes I Ren6 Voillaume, Seeds of the Desert (London: Burns and Oates, n.d.), p. 24 n.2. ~ Seeds, p. 12. 3 Seeds, p. 53. 4 Seeds, pp. 53-54. s See Seeds, p. 70. 6 Seeds, p. 7 I. 7 Seeds, pp. 72-73. s See Brothers of Men (Denville, New Jersey: Dimension Books, 1966), p. 142. 9 See Seeds, pp. 74-77. to Seeds, p. 76. ii Brothers, p. 52. lz See Seeds, p. 80, and Brothers, p. 23. 13 See Ren6 Voillaume, Follow Me (London: Darton, Longman, and Todd, 1978), p. 64. 14 Brothers, p. 195. is Brothers, p. 134. 16 See Seeds, pp. 60, 63, 65. 17 Ren~ Voillaume, Faith and Contemplation (London: Darton, Longman, and Todd, 1974), p. 111. is See Brothers, pp. 145-146. 19 See Follow, p. 141. 2o Brothers, pp. 90-91. 21 Brothers, p. 91. 22 Brothers, p. 138. ~ Brothers, p. 122. Review for Religious RENI~E NIENABER Not for the Faint of Heart: Journaling into Honest Prayer Within a short time, three of my closest rela-tives died. A fourth death was imminent. With too much heaviness to hold any longer, I had to find a way to deal with my grief and anger. Journaling became my path into honest prayer. At one breakthrough I wrote to God in letters big enough to read through my tears: !'Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" Slowly my response came, not with the earth opening to devour me, but with a deep, endur-ing peace. God had answered my fierce words with comforting silence. Anyone who prays with raw candor is in good company. Such honesty with God charac-terizes some of our famous ancestors in the faith, who impolitely told God when they had had enough. Jacob, Jeremiah, Jonah, and Job wres-tled with God. There is modeling for honest Ren6e Nienaber SND writes again from St. Mary of the Assumption Parish; 121 West Main Street; Alexandria, Kentucky 41001. 63.3 2004 Nienaber ¯ Not for the Faint of Heart prayer in the Lament psalms: the psalmist gives God a piece of his mind! The prophets likewise were never afraid to speak to God from their gut. Even Jesus in Gethsemane begged that the cup of suffering be taken away, and he cried out on the cross, feeling forsaken. In more recent centuries the complaint of Teresa of Avila, doctor of the church, was "If this is how you treat your friends, no wonder you have so few." Tevye, the strug-gling father in the play and movie Fiddler on the Roof, asks God in frustration, "Would it spoil some vast, eter-nal plan if I were a wealthy man?" We too can speak to God with such holy boldness. Spirituality deals with all aspects of life, not just the pious parts. Our jealous Lover wants all of us with no doors locked. Honest Journaling--and Us and God Many people are afraid to pray with honesty, think-ing that God will love us only if we are polite. Early training taught some of us to leave our problems at the door of the church. Rather, prayer needs to be a come-as- we-are experience. Spirituality is not just for the pious, but also for us who get wounded in the battles of every-day life and need somewhere to go with our pain. True prayer is about gathering up all of the stuff of our lives and offering it to God. The spiritual life challenges us to be not just holy but real: true to ourselves in all sorts of inner weather. Honesty, the essence of the eighth com-mandment, is essential for every relationship, including the divine/human one. To improve human relationships, sometimes people have to sit down and thrash things out. Similarly, at times we need to bring to God even the parts we would prefer to suppress. God does not want marionettes but real people with real emotions. The One who knocks on our door wants entrance into the whole truth of our lives. Some people, however, fear that they will be struck dead if they bring Review for Religious their frustration or anger to God. Rather, we might pic-ture God with strong, anthropomorphic shoulders--big enough to embrace us even when we feel far below par. We do not have to be on our good behavior with God in order to be loved. We speak about God as all-wise, about Jesus as "the way, the truth, and the life," and about the Spirit as our indwelling guide. This God wants to communicate that wisdom and truth to us from within our very beings. Jesus even seeks us out in our messiness, as he did the disciples on the way to Emmaus. He asks us, "What are you discussing as you go your way?" (Lk 24:17). Why Write This Type of Prayer? Why write in order to be honest with God? History has many examples of peo-ple who journaled in order to get in touch with their inner depths. Some in the last century were Pope John xxIII, Dag Hammarskj61d, and Anne Frank. Writing helped them clarify their sometimes confused and scattered thoughts, and it can help us. Journaling can provide both focus and per-spective. Putting pen to paper without editing can bring clarity that we would never achieve in our conscious mind alone. Some people will say they "can't write." But unedited journaling is not for anyone else to see. Spelling, punc-tuation, grammar, handwriting--none of these count. To many, writing honest prayer might still seem impos-sible, and people seldom try something if they expect to fail. But I hope readers will learn from the examples If we are afraid to be angry with God, at least writing is a silent outlet. 63.3 2004 Nienaber ¯ Not for the Faint of Heart below that the prayer of honest journaling can open wide a door to both themselves and God. If we are afraid to be angry with God, at least writ-ing is a silent outlet. Some polite people, when they dare to confront, prefer to write a note rather than to yell. Writing also helps people listen to the divine. This prayer communicates both ways. Especially when we are trou-bled, we need to be still and wait upon the Lord, as the psalmist says, asking for divine insight that we might not otherwise receive, If the wisdom from God is in writing, or between the lines, we have a better chance that it will touch our lives more than a fleeting inspiration does. Examples of Honest Journaling Following are ten samples excerpted from twenty years of honest journaling. Names have been omitted and some situations adapted to preserve anonymity. The summary titles, numbered 1 to 10, were of course added afterwards. My candid words addressed prayerfully to God are in roman type, and what seem to be God's can-did responses are in italic type. 1. God wants to reveal not only our sin but also the divine hesed (steadfast love or loving kindness). What do you want me to learn through this contin-ual frustration with A? Sbe presses a lot of buttons in you that are still deep, dark recesses of sinfulness: anger, resentment, negativity, revenge, self-pity, barred. Wow! That's pretty ugly! Much uglier than what she. did to me. I guess I thank you for letting me see this dark side. What good is it to see these faults? The more you're aware, the less power they'll bare over you. ~ls you become.more bumble and less reactive, the more connected you will be witb people and freer from this gravity. It's pretty ugly, yet you love me. You pick me up and kiss my wounds. You love me in my sinfulness. You allow Review for Religious me to journey to a deeper level of self-knowledge and awareness of being clothed in your grace, your love, your mercy, your truth (albeit painfully). 2. God wants to help us get through a problem, not bail us out. Is there something you want to say to me? Are you back to that feeling of being le~ out? Toujours--well, just more often than I wish, and B was the perfect catalyst for it. Ab, B, the lady you love to bate. She is so perfect, so superior, and so sure of how to do things better. She really tapped into a lot of your stuff I know. Help me sort through my stuff. Help you through? I will, but not by taking it away. This will keep you bumble-that quality you admire in otber people. This will always be your Achilles' bed. Will you love me just the same if1 help you through it rather than remove it? What a silly question. Will I still love you? Is there any other way to life? 3. God promises to help us forgive. God, I need your help to forgive her again. I hope I can last through this year. I will be with you. Remember my love, shown through the surprise ice cream and your notes from C. I appreciate any kindness you send my way because I'm feeling pretty crummy. Much is going well for you. I know. Thanks. But every day I have to forgive her. You are growing. And I am suffering. I know. I am with you. Remember that I'm not just remote, way out there, but very close in the workings of every day. I'm not sure. I'll try to cooperate with you. For now, help me forgive her once more. You are all I have. 7- 63.3 2004 Nienaber ¯ Not for the Faint of Heart That's not such a bad place to be. 4. God wants to calm our anger. #olo\&~÷~÷. I don~t want to find another note from D. Help me to look at this objectively and not come down too hard on her. But I am angry at having to deal with this again. Enough is enough. O.K. Your turn to speak. I'm calling you, my dear, to ever greater depths of love. I'm asking you to have your heart stretched to embrace the weak and vulnerable. I'm inviting you to have my heart towards her. Will you accept? ~Vill you be the bigger person? Will you keep the lines of communication open? Will you be a channel of my love towards her-please? She so needs human love. Will you please help me? How can I tell you no? Yet my anger is so close to the surface with her. I will belpyou. I will be withyou. Unlessyou meet her at her stage of growth, however stunted, you'll never be my pres-ence to her. You'll be the foe, and shb will regress again. This is PROGRESS??? God, save me! I will, I am, I have been. Think of her as a work in progress. You can help or hinder that progress. 5. God wants to answer our questions. Why won't the song "Carry Your Candle" leave my mind even though it's the middle of the night? You're feeling overwhelmed after your meeting with E. You realize once more that you're not part of the "in group." YOu know~that you've bitten off more than you can chew. That's all true, but what about the song? You might be wishing that you could hide some of your light under a bushel basket. You want me to bring my light not just to E but also to F? You never let up, do you? Sometimes. But you know about the hothouse effect, right? I'm trying to get a beautiful, well-formed, and well-pruned plant. Are you up .to the challenge? Only with your grace, my dear, only with your grace. Review for Religious 6. God calls us to the truth about ourselves. You're letting me see my sinfulness. A lot of anger arises in me, now more quickly and verbally. Maybe it has always been there and is just now getting a chance to be seen because of my buttons being pushed. It's not pretty, and I repent. Partly I'm sorry because my mask of niceness is coming off. Partly I'm sorry because I'm going to have to go and talk with G. The fact is, my dear, that the fault is not all in her. She's pressing your buttons. This is not all black and white. Thank you for letting me see my own sinfulness and for letting me see my need for a Savior. I too have a somewhat hardened and peevish heart. Thank you for this important lesson. Doing so many holy things, I think my nose is pretty clean. Lord, I need your amazing grace. 7. God always gives the ultimate promise. I'll put it bluntly: I'm worried about my meeting with H. We know how strong-headed she can be. You saw how she treated me in our last encounter. I don't want to be gobbled up. It's not Thanksgiving; it's Christmas. I'm surprised at how weak-kneed I still can get just think-ing about it. I don't want to challenge anyone too seri-ously. HELP! I'll never get stronger unless I face this kind of thing. May I talk now? I will give you the words you need and the courage you desire. You don't need to or want to come off like J with no feeling. If you appear weak, that's O.K. You're doing what I call you to. You need only to be faithful. Don't forget the insight and power you've recqived from me in prayer, especially in this written form. I am your God, beside you and within you. As you know well, 1 WILL BE WITH YOU ALWAYS.t 8. God sends us the light we need. I am getting sick from the black hole that is sucking out my life. So much negativity! It's beginning to affect my stomach. I didn't know if the time was ripe to say 63.3 2004 Nienaber ¯ Not for the Faint of Heart anything or not. So, once again, I swallowed my words. Dear God, speak to me. I will if you'll give me a chance and listen. Be still and know that I am God. Your God and her God. You're not going to change bet much. Maybe you can think of bet as a sick person who needs compassion. Maybe she is the lost lamb that needs to be picked up in your embrace. Maybe even she is the prodigal who needs to be welcomed with open arms. She is your responsibility to pray for. What are you doing about it? You're right. I do pray that she might find a few ounces of happiness. Help her to see your goodness in herself. And help me to treat her with a little more of the Spirit of Jesus - not just write about it. Help me to find any rays of light in the darkness. Let me .look more with your compassionate eyes, not my increasingly hard-ened eyes and face and mouth. The light is coming into the darkness. VVatcb for tbe first streaks! 9. God helps us to see more reality.than we're aware of. Why am I still so upset that it shows in my eyes? It reminds you of Mother's Day fifty years ago and the arguing, never reconciled, just stuffed. No one should ruin an important day like this for others. I hate that stupid trick called "I was only kid-ding." Doesn't she know that's a lie? She wasn't really lying. She was kidding herself, not quite aware of her motivation. I have really internalized this. Is it also about me? Yes, you hate not being the good guy. You dislike being one of the sources of controversy. You hate having "lost it" in a way you would never have done had you been fully in control. You dislike that you have to go and apologize again. You're right, as Usual. 10. God comforts.us in our disappointments. Dear God, you seem to be the only constant in my life. My family, friends, and fellow parishioners disap- Review for Religious point me. I don't want to get too Jesus-and-me-ish, but you're the only one I can really rely on. This is a self-pitying but true statement: I give out so much and receive propor-tionately so little in return. My dear child, lay your bead against me, and let go of another birthday that could never reach your expectations. I am not just bigb in the heavens but very real and very near. I am inside you, guiding you, encouraging you, shoring you up, opening new paths, loving you unconditionally, giving you loyal friends, reminding you of your v~ortb, sending people to delight you. I will always be faithful My family, friends, and fellow parishioners disappoint me. Observations, Benefits, and Suggestions One common thread throughout the above ten exam-ples is God's promise "I will be with you always"-even (or especially) in difficult situations. Jesus Christ is our Savior not just through his death and resurrection, but also in everyday situations where we need healing and hope. As with our forebears in ancient and modem times, God chooses to be present with saving grace through a whole spectrum of love: from comfort to confrontation. Some people wonder if this kind of dialogue with God comes just from an overactive imagination. If we are truly open to God, the answers we get are Truth try-ing to intersect with our confusion or our suffering. We have a God of communication. How else would the patri-archs and prophets have heard God's voice? How else would apostles and martyrs, foundresses and laypersons, have known God's will? Of course, we can be mistaken in our listening. Discernment is always needed. Many of us were trained to start the day with the Morning Offering. In it we offer to God not only our 63.3 2004 Nienaber ¯ Not for the Faint of Heart prayers, works, and joys, but also our sufferings. Do we offer them to God? Life sometimes deals us a bad hand of cards, and some people easily say that God does it for a reason. If this is true, maybe the reason is so that we will not live on the surface, but take the risk of going deeply into prayer and into the mind of God. Only the truth sets us free. Thus, praying through our sufferings can give more peace, insight, and freedom than we have ever known. Honest prayer can lead us more deeply into the paschal mystery. Once we face and embrace our dark-ness, we can be more open to the light, the resurrections within us. St. Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 6:4-10 that he does not regret his struggles. He embraces both sides of the mystery of Jesus in his own body: "punished, but not put to death; sorrowful, though we are always rejoic-ing; poor, yet we enrich many." Praying honestly can help us, like Paul, to hold in reverence both the light and darkness of our life. Once people have had a few experiences of getting insight from God in difficult situations, they are encour-aged to continue as the need arises. In case pray-ers would like to journal in this way but do not know how to get started, the following suggestions are offered: God, what can I learn from this anger? What can this loneliness teach me? What do you want to say to me in my insomnia? How might I have handled my frustration differ-ently? How can I deal with this feeling of jealousy? Why do I have to put up with all of this #o~o&-'.':~÷? Why am I so afraid? I really resent J because. I am sensing a deep loneliness because. I am feeling out of relationship with. I am in touch with one of my deepest wounds. Review for Religious Liturgical-minded people often use the readings of the day for their inspiration in prayer. Sometimes, how-ever, the events of our lives need to supersede those read-ings. In such cases, the text of our lives becomes the stuff of our prayer. It is unfair not to deal with our anger and frustration. The ten examples given above involve real issues which, if not dealt with in a healthy way, will spurt outwards or inwards in unhealthy ways. Our caring God wants to help us with such issues as our frustration, for-giveness, anger, disappointments, loneliness. God wants to give light, truth, and insights that are both consoling and challenging, if only we accede. With Peter we can ask, "Lord, to whom shall we go?" (Jn 6:68). In the Monastery Gardens Like the order, they have shrunk From golden reaches of summer sweetcorn Swelling the ear for hungering novices, Have shrunk from pumpkin-puddled swatches Of green and gold serpentining to half An acre of tomatoes all to be stored Against monastic winters. Borders of pines And windbreaks now do not enclose a pleasant Land of hefty cabbages and prickled okra; What is left is gardened for subsistence By stooping backs, gnarled hands, a cane Or two supporting a search for what then Had been Father Leo's prized asparagus. A fox Like Satan circumambulates the margins Where once the chickens found their forage. Not an Eden, never an Eden, but at evening Still walks a Presence serenely pleased to be At home in limitless gardens of the stars, Or gardens shrunken to an order's humbled knees. Nancy G. Westerfield 63.3 2004 J. THOMAS HAMEL A Hidden Treasure of the Ignatian Exercises p~ayer is about getting involved with God by hook by crook and is well worth the effort. Whether by rolling up their sleeves or getting on their knees, by waiting quietly or singing loudly, people manage to find a way of getting involved with God. But what if prayer is not primarily any of these activities? What if prayer is primarily a matter of looking? St. Bernard has a striking response to this question. In his sixty-ninth sermon on the Song of Songs he says: I must bring this sermon to an end, but I will say one thing to the spiritual among you, a strange thing, but true. The soul that looks on God sees him as though she alone were lboked on by him. It is in this confi-dence that she says he is concerned for her, and she for him, and she sees noflaing but herself and him. How good you are, Lord, to the soul who seeks you. You come to meet her, you embrace her, you acknowledge yourself to be her bridegroom, you who are the Lord, God blessed forever above all things.1 ~ J. Thomas Hamel SJ continues to reside at College of the Holy Cross; ¯ , ~ , 1 College Street; Worcester. Massachusetts 01610. Review for Religio~ts Echoes of this passage from St. Bernard are found in the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola, devoted as he is to the activity of seeing2 For Ignatius the actual begin-ning of prayer has everything to do with looking rather than listening. Along with his own "modesty" or "cus-tody" of the eyes in dealing with others, he seems to exult unrestrainedly in being looked at by God. In his Exercises Ignatius says, "For the space of an Our Father, with mind and heart raised up, consider how God ourLord looks at me" (§75).2 The "vulgate" Latin text adds a nuance: "Picture my Lord Jesus as present and looking at what I am on the point of doing."3 Getting involved with God turns around to mean God getting involved with the one who comes to pray. Ignatian spirituality has much to do with seeking and finding, with looking and listening, with self-offering and receiving. But the precise first step is not so much looking as being looked at, not so much seeing as being seen, being locked in the gaze of God, For Ignatius, prayer begins with the gift of God's attentiveness to me, keeping me in sight, and so a kind of hidden dynamic is at work in the rest of my prayer, including the colloquy: "Imagining Christ our Lord before me on the cross, make a colloquy" (§53). Seeing our Lord on the cross gradually becomes a larger picture. Under Christ's gaze one's whole past comes into focus, and so does what one is doing for Christ here and now, and also his awareness of what one will do. The Redeemer and Savior can con-template one's past, present, and future. In the following Weeks of the Spiritual Exercises, one is invited to be contemplative of the present and future of our eternal Lord's earthly journey. Does contemplation begin in the eyes? During his recuperation in the Loyola family castle after the battle of Pamplona, Ignatius would spend hours imagining what he would do in the service of a certain lady. Had she 63.3 2004 Hamel * A Hidden Treasure of the Ignatian F_.vercises one day looked at him--whoever she was? On another occasion Ignatius "saw clearly a likeness of our Lady with the Holy Child Jesus, at the sight of which he received a very extraordinary consolation."4 Did this extraordinary consolation include the gaze of Mother and Child on him? In Manresa he was mesmerized by the dazzling sight of a serpent: "Somehow it seemed to him that it had the shape of a serpent, and it had many things which shone like eyes, though they weren't eyes. He used to take much delight and be consoled by seeing this thing."s In addition Ignatius would speak of his "interior eyes." He saw with his interior eyes "some things like white:rays which were coming from above. ¯ . He saw clearly with his understanding how Jesus Christ our Lord was present in that most holy sacra-ment. Often, and for a long time, as he was in prayer, he used to see with his interior eyes the humanity of Christ. ¯. Were he to say twenty or forty times, he wouldn't be so bold as to judge that this was a lie . Our Lady too he has seen in a similar form, without distinguishing the parts."6 From such sublime visions, it is typical of Ignatius to bring himself back to earth. "At this time God was dealing with him in the same way as a schoolteacher deals with a child, teaching him . His clear judgment [is] that God was dealing with him in this way.''7 What kind of teachei- other than God allows one to see with one's interior eyes? From schoolboy to errant knight "full of shame and confusion" was not a giant step for Ignatius. In the First Week of the Exercises, Ignatius can readily suppose a person of his culture would feel the disgrace of "being looked upon by his king and all in the court" with disdain, if not repugnance (§74). An even, deeper experience of the hatefulness of sin comes about as a gift of the Father and Son and of our Lady (§~63-64). To receive this gift Review for Religious is to be looked upon by each of them, one after the other. The cosmic gaze of the risen Jesus introduces the Second Week. Everyone and everything is present to the eternal Lord of all. "From the place where he dwells, he gazes on all the inhabitants of the world" (Ps 33:13-14). Before each disciple the eternal Lord pauses, looks, then calls. Whoever responds will be seated at his table, be dressed in clothes similar to his, and be seen with him in the night watches. Such imagery of being a knight beloved of his king personalizes the dream of serving an ideal leader and kingmto be fulfilled only in the company of the shepherd king, the risen Lord of all. Those who respond with full-hearted affection see themselves belong-ing to the world in altogether new ways: interreligious dia-logues, speaking new languages, adapting to new cul-tures, discovering sisters and brothers worldwide. They may also translate Iguatius's much-loved-knight imagery into their own experience, like sharing the food of their Lord--which is doing the will of the Father who sent him, being clothed with his virtues (§93). Prayer from then on occurs in one's own journey and in Christ's. A friendship grows, reverence deepens. Service no longer knows of "shoulds," but is the deed of love welling up from silence and verbal exchange, from spiritual insight, and from special moments of feeling that one is under God's loving gaze. To visit Nazareth, find one's way to Bethlehem, come to the River Jordan, ascend Mount Tabor, enter Jerusalem--wherever, with all that looking in wonder and being looked at, who is to find words or have need of words? Does one need words when con- Service no longer knows of "shoulds," but is the deed of love welling up from silence and verbal exchange. 63.3 2004 Hamel ¯ A Hidden Treasure of the Ignatian F~cercise$ templating the Infant lying in the manger and looking back at you? It would not be difficult to imagine that, when Jesus is leaving Nazareth and you with him, our Lady would be looking at you as well. When present with Jesus in the waters of the Jordan, would not you too be looked at by the Father? (§273). When speaking to his beloved dis-ciples about the beatitudes, how striking that Jesus exhorts them to use their talents, letting their "light shine before people so that they may see your good deeds and gl6rify your Father" (§278). Would you too be caught in that smile of his? On Mount Tabor Christ our Lord became transfigured, and his face shone like the sun and his clothing like snow (§284). Did Peter, James, and John know who was looking at them? When the woman who showed "great love" heard Jesus saying "Your faith has saved you, go in peace," was she not being looked at with love? (§282). St. Peter denied him, but later, after Jesus looked at him, went outside and wept bitterly (§292). Pilate took Jesus and had him flogged; they struck him blows in the face (§295). Were his eyes closed against the blows? And when on the cross he commended St. John to his mother and his mother to St. John, what kind of look was he giving them at that moment? (§297). In his first appearance on the day of the resurrection, the very silence of the .Gospels already suggests that Jesus' and Mary's wordless looking at each other was enough. "The way friends are accustomed to console one another" is often a matter of exchanging heartfelt looks (§224). Ignatius stresses that the risen Jesus appeared many times to the disciples and spoke with them (§311). How often were those "words" simply looks? Even at table eating, Ignatius contemplates. "While eating one should imagine that one is seeing Christ our Lord eating with his apostles, considering the way he Review for Religious drinks, the way he looks around, and the way he talks" (§214). Is there any end to the breadth and lerigth and height of when Christ our Lord looks at you contem-plating all his mysteries? All the seeking and finding, the asking and receiving, all the knowing and loving blend into being looked upon, gazed upon, endlessly, so it seems, in a d!scipleship of friend to friend. Is it merely a coincidence that in Igna~ius's Exercises the final mystery to be contemplated presents Jesus' dis-ciples still looking? "Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus who has been taken from you will come in the same way as you saw him go to heaven" (§312, Acts 1:11). Were the angels subtly inviting the disciples to find their risen Lord look-ing at them in and through his sisters and brothers? Ignatius's long-standing desire to be placed with the Son surely reflects repeated visions of being looked at by the Lord. To be placed with the Son is to be under his gaze forever. This school of contemplation, if it may be so called, takes place on the run. One is being taught while on a journey. In the full thirty-day Exercises, the introduc-tory exercise of prayer is repeated four or five times daily. Before a word is exchanged, the Teacher is simply look-ing, and thereby teaching contemplation, teaching peo-ple to see what the Lord sees, to see ourselves as the Lord sees us, to see others as the Lord sees them. Then, when somewhere along the journey our Lord looks upon us, that look is a reflection of ourselves, like an imitation in reverse. What we see is Christ our Lord being where we find ourselves, aware of what is going on in us and making it known to us. The journey is not quite the same any more; we are in new territory with the Lord. Ignatius alludes to this kind of experience when he recalls the surreptitious visit he made to the Mount of Olives: 63.3 2004 Hamel ¯ A Hidden Treasure of the Igr~ti~ Exercises When they found out in the monastery that he had gone off like this without a guide, the friars took vig-orous s~teps to look for him. So, as he was coming down from the Mount of Olives, he came upon a Christian of the cincture, who was a servant in the monastery. He had a big staff, and with a show of great anger was gesturing as if really to give it to him, and coming up to him he grabbed him roughly by the arm. He let himself be taken readily, but the good man never let him go. And, as he went along this path in this fashion, grabbed by the Christian of the cincture, he had great consolation from our Lord, in that it seemed to him he was seeing Christ always over him. And, until he arrived at the monastery, this lasted all the time in great abundance,s Although this was not by any means the first time Ignatius saw Christ our Lord, it is worth noting how his language catches a different, if not new, experience. Ignatius does not say Christ appeared to him, but he sees Christ "always over him," as if hovering over him, as though walking with him down the path from Bethphage into Jerusalem. It is also worth noting how Ignatius names the consolation. His consolation occurs in what he sees: "seeing Christ always over him." Was Ignatius see-ing Christ in his passion along the Via Dolorosa, but reflecting his own experience of being bound and led into Jerusalem? This had been the city of his dreams, but, after the Franciscan superior told him he had to leave it, it became the place of his own passion. In Ignatius's Spiritual Diary we are let in on similar experiences. As if a new mutuality is being revealed, Jesus accompanies Ignatius before the Father. On Monday, 2 5 February, the feast of St. Matthias, Ignatius is celebrat-ing Mass alone: I entered into the Mass with great devotion, warmth, and tears, at times losing the power of speech. During the prayers to the Father, it seemed that Jesus was presenting them, or accompanied those that I was say- Review for Religious ing, before the Father; and I felt or saw in a way that cannot be explained in those terms? Two days later, on the first day of Lent, Ignatius was in the chapel praying. He writes: I entered the chapel and while praying felt, or to put it more exactly, I saw, not by natural power, the Blessed Trinity and also Jesus who was representing me, or placing me before the Trinity or acting as medi-ator close to the Blessed Trinity, that I might com-municate in that intellectual vision. On feeling and seeing in this way I was covered in tears and love but with Jesus as the object; and toward the Blessed Trinity, a respect of submission more like a reverential love than anything else. Later I felt in a similar way that Jesus was performing the same task when I thought of praying to the Father, for it seemed and I could feel within me that he was doing everything before the Father and the Blessed Trinity.1° Jesus, the Mediator par excellence, so identifies with Ignatius that, in presenting Ignatius to the Father, it seems that Jesus is presenting himself to the Father. On the other hand, when Ignatius humbles himself before the Blessed Trinity, not out of fear but with a reverential love, it seems that he has entered into the very senti-ments of Jesus himself. What happened to Moses springs to mind: he talked to God face to face (Ex 33:11). In the beginning, however, "Moses hid his face from God, for he was afraid to look at God" (Ex 3:6). The sight of the burning bush was only a beginning, but a journey begun leads to other beginnings. Seeing and being seen are wondrous beginnings in themselves, but others follow: not only sight but also sound, not only sound but also silence. Memories long buried may come into view; new and hardly namable feelings may arise. Contemplation is a new and mostly unspoken language that may come more and more into play on the journey. To see in this way the language spoken by our Savior's eyes--to learn 63.3 2004 Hamel * A Hidden Treasure of the lgnatian Exercises it and respond in it--is to be seen by the Father, to see him as he is, and to become like him. Perhaps this would be the ultimate grace, the hidden treasure, of the Spiritual Exercises. Notes i Bernard of Clairvaux, "On the Song of Songs," Vol. 4, trans. Irene Edmonds (Kalamazoo: Cistercian Publications, 1980), p. 35. 2 St. Ignatius of Loyola: Personal Writings, trans. Joseph A. Munitiz and Philip Endean (London: Penguin Books, 1996), p. 300. 3 A new translation from the "vulgate" Latin text, The Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius, trans. Pierre Wolff (Liguori, Missouri: Triumph, 1997), p. 25, §75. 4 Personal Writings, Reminiscences, p. 16 (=Autobiography, § 10). s Reminiscences, p. 21 (=Autobiography, §19). 6 Reminiscences, p. 26 (=Autobiography, §29). 7 Reminiscences, p. 25 (=Autobiography, §27). s Reminiscences, p. 35 (=Autobiography, §48). 9 Personal Writings, p. 86 (=Spiritual Diary, §24). 1o Personal Writings, p. 87 (=Spiritual Diary, §26). Review for Religious SEAN SAMMON Fidelity and Commitment: Letter to a Young Marist Brother Dear Zebulun, After our general chapter I decided to write to our young brothers. You number more than eight hundred, and I was eager to get in touch with you to offer a word of encouragement. Zebulun, you and our other young brothers give me and many more older brothers great hope that a new day is dawning for our Marist life and mission throughout the world. So many of you tell me how eager you are to embrace and live fully the five calls found in our general chapter message. "Center your lives in Jesus," the delegates wrote, "for upon this foundation our life is built. Be sowers of hope: by means of new and renewed initiatives in evangelization, education, and solidarity, draw closer to the poorest and most marginalized of young people. Join efforts Se~in Sammon FMS, now superior general of the Marist Brothers, wrote for us in 1992 and 1993. His address is Fratelli Maristi delle Scuole; C.P. 10250; 00144 Roma, Italy. 63.3 2004 Sammon ¯ Fidelity and Commitment with our lay parmers to clarify more fully their identity and ours and to collaborate more closely in mission, spirituality, formation. Build communities where forgiveness is a habit and reconciliation no stranger. Do all things in Mary's way." A challenging agenda, but one that many of you appear eager to implement! You have come to religious life during a turbulent period in its history. The world in which you grew up is also very different from the one in which many of us began our Marist life. We look to benefit from your experience with young people and your understanding of their joys and preoccupations. We are eager to hear from you what young people need from us who are cormnitted to sharing the Good News of Jesus Christ with them. Never cease to challenge us with your hopes and dreams, and do not hesitate to share with us your fears and concerns as well. I write as your brother, recalling my own years as a young brother and remembering the energy and the distracting preoccupations that often marked those years~ I remember a sense of adventure, but also sometimes feeling that a word of encouragement or some clarifying light would have been very welcome indeed. Today I seek to cast some light on fidelity and commitment. If this seems an unusual topic with which to begin, it is nevertheless one that has come from conversations with young brothers. It is a topic on the minds of a good many of them. With this letter I attempt to respond to their questions and concerns--but without forgetting my chief purpose: getting in contact with you and bringing some encouragement. Why This Concern with Fidelity. and Commitment? During my visit with a group of young brothers in Bolivia, I was asked: "Why do you think so many young Review for Religious brothers are leaving our congregation?" The question was direct and needed an answer, for it represented the mind of many in the room. I offered a few words in response, but I knew my reply was not adequate. So the question stayed with me. It remains with me still. Some may insist that responsibility for leaving the institute lies with the various individuals, but that explanation is too facile for me. Over the years some dear friends of mine have left. Good and honest men, on fire with a love of Jesus Christ and a desire to make a difference in the lives of poor kids, they have decided to steer their life in a different direction from our Marist brotherhood. Each time I found myself asking: "For what reasons is he leaving?" and "What makes me stay?" Others may think and say that those who request dispensation from their vows do so because they have grown lukewarm and found themselves unable to cope with the disappointments that are the part of any life commitment lived well. Here again the explanation seems too facile. After all, haven't most of us from time to time thought about leaving? Aren't we all sometimes lukewarm? If we are human, we all experience occasional problems with one or several of these important dimensions of our lives: relationships, sexuality, faith, cormnunity life, our ministry, and even the priorities that the members of our province may establish. Zebulun, I believe that you and I will find an answer to the question put to me in Bolivia if we can deepen our Fidelity helps us remain true to what we have pledged despite the contradictory values that we might encounter on life's journey. -2-85- 63.3 2004 Sammon ¯ Fidelity and Commitment understanding of the nature of fidelity. After all, isn't it the virtue that helps people like us overcome feelings of staleness that sometimes threaten our life commitments? Fidelity helps us remain true to what we have pledged despite the contradictory values that we might encounter on life's journey. God is faithful to us. Keeping that fact in mind, let us take a look at that time in life when the dream that God has in mind for each of us began to take shape. Can you remember the earliest time when people asked you what you were going to do with your life? Whatever our responses were, they were influenced by our experiences, our culture, our personality and natural gifts, the expectations that others had for us, and of course God. The word vocation sometimes describes our response to this very same question: we feel called. Before Vatican Council 17, however, vocation was commonly used only for people who entered a seminary or a religious congregation. Thankfully, the present-day understanding of vocation is much broader. Everyone is called by God to something and therefore has a vocation. A religious vocation is one type Of vocation, but all who respond to God,s dream for them are living out a vocation. God's Dream for Me and the Mystery of Election At the center of your vocation and mine lies the mystery of "election." The second chapter of our Marist Constitutions and Statutes says it well: God called you and me by name. God led us into the desert and spoke to our hearts. God sent us out on mission. Simply put, God has a dream for each of us and is eager to share it and lead us into it. But he uses very human means to get the message across. Our awareness of God's dream for ourselves can often be traced back to our answer to the question with which we began this section: What am I going to do with my life? Review for Religious Our answer usually began as a fluid vision of the kind of person I am, of who I was becoming in the world. Often enough I modeled myself after adults I admired. When I think back to my own teenage years, I remember that the brothers who taught me in secondary school made quite an impression on me. I wanted to be like them. They were effective in their ministry and obviously enjoyed working with young people. Most of all, they were happy--happy, not in the sense of hilarity, but happy because of their deep sense of purpose, their dedication. So strong was the impression that these brothers made on me that I went to the juniorate at age fifteen. God got his message across to me through a group of---as I later realized---all-too-human men nevertheless doing something that would be worth the gift of my life. Over timeI learned that my early-adolescent dream, too, contained illusions of its own. Maybe you had the same experience. Sometimes I thought of myself as larger than life. During the years since, I have often wondered whether-I considered this inflated view of myself necessary for doing all the things I believed others expected me to do. Eventually I learned another important lesson: The reasons that brought me to religious life are not the reasons that kept me from leaving. That's right. As your vocation or mine matures, we understand the deeper reasons behind our choice to be a brother. We understand ourselves and our way of life as Marist brothers better than when we were first attracted to it. God leads us to a deeper experience of his love for each of us. A vocation, consequently, is not a once-and-for-all call that comes sometime during adolescence. Rather, it is a daily and lifelong conversation with God. For you and me to be faithful to our vocation as Marist brothers, then, we will have to do a great, deal more than refresh our 63.3 2004 Sammon * Fidelity and Commitment memories of an invitation that came early in life. Instead, we will need to practice what Marcellin Champagnat called the presence of God. God's Dream and. the Rich Young Man Before moving on, let us look at another question. What happens if I fail to follow God's dream for me? After all, this dream of God's is something freely offered; I do not have to accept it. Permit me to respond with a story. Several years ago, during the course of a workshop at the English College in Rome, I met a young man there whom I will call Stephen. This Roman seminary prepares priests for all the dioceses of Great Britain, and Stephen was a third-year student. Before entering the college and formation for priesthood, he had been a successful businessman. During breakfast one morning I asked him what had brought him to the seminary. His response was disarming: "I don't think I have a vocation to ;priesthood, but apparendy God does!" He said that with the passage of time he was just beginning to feel at home with that notion. In its early days a religious vocation is not always welcomed with joy! So God's dream for you and for me is freely offered and can be accepted or put aside. In putting it aside, however, we run a risk. Though we may live a life that is happy and fulfilling, and envied by others, at some deep level .we may sense that an important part of our life is missing. All three synoptic Gospels tell of a rich young man who came to Jesus and asked what he had to do to possess eternal life. Jesus said, "Keep the commandments." The man said he had always kept them. Jesus, looking beyond this young man's lifelong conscientiousness, saw what his practice of religion could be: something much better than keeping his heart to himself and taking pride in observing the Law and avoiding mistakes. And so, looking on him with love, Review for Religious Jesus said: "There is still one thing you lack. Sell everything that you own and distribute the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me." The rich young man was faced now with having to choose one of two life directions. One would include God's dream for him, and the other would not. We know the end of the story well. This rich young man failed to accept the Lord's invitation, and he went away sad. Zebulun, I wonder if you sometimes feel like this rich young man, as I do. As life unfolds, we discover that every commitment lived well demands sacrifice, allowing others to have a claim over our time, talents, and energies. The Lord invites us to take up certain tasks, not because we want to, but because our presence and efforts are necessary. Some of us are perennially slow learners, and so it is only on arriving at the end of our thirties that we discover and admit that we have long been straying from what God has had in mind for us. At that point we face a choice much like the rich young man's. Midlife provides the opportunity, once again, to move our life more in the direction of God's dream for us. Our twentieth general chapter, with its theme of vitality, offered us a similar opportunity. Those who participated in that gathering and our lay consultants did not produce an elaborate pastoral plan, nor send us a message that included many details. No, their final communiqu6 was very simple. What it asked of us today as.Marist brothers is a revolution of the heart. Simply put, we must fall in love with God, once again. Vocations and Risk and Times of Change In making any permanent commitment, you and I must surrender ourselves to someone who is beyond our control. Every vocation, therefore, has an element of risk; 63.3 2004 Sammon ¯ Fidelity and Commitment it is a leap into the unknown. We are called upon to take a chance with our lives, to take a risk, to go beyond the information we have on hand. Some people prefer to wait until they have all the information necessary to make the best possible decision, but this course of action has its own danger. If you or I wait to be absolutely sure of ourselves before taking action, then we will be dead before we do anything meaningful. So let us keep our vocations alive and lively by taking risks again, and again, and again. Most of us admit to having "second thoughts" from time to time about the important commitments we have made in life. My own questions and doubts occurred during my late twenties and then again in my early forties. I mentioned earlier that I went to the juniorate at age fifteen. Ten to fifteen years later I was asking myself whether I chose too soon. I had the notion that waiting several more years before making a definitive choice about my life would have spared me the burden I felt at age twenty-eight. The truth of the matter, however, is that none of us escapes consequences. Had I delayed making a life commitment, I would have suffered a different set of consequences. God saw fit to invite me to make a move at fifteen; he invites others at eighteen, or twenty-two, or thirty. Some people point out that the doubts we all experience about our vocation often occur during times of transition. In people's lives, periods of change and turmoil alternate with stable periods. The latter run about six or seven years and are often marked by productivity and a sense of well-being. People have their sights set on the future, on building a life for themselves. In contrast, transitions are times when people look back and have second thoughts. These periods may last four or five years and may begin with an ending. Many brothers feel it deeply and at length when a parent dies, Review for Religious or when they leave one ministry for another, or move from one community to another. Or they may fall in love, fail at a task, have a spiritual awakening, become involved in a renewal program or advanced study, or turn a certain age. No matter what precipitates them, changes do occur and bring some kind of ending to what has gone before. Most of us believe that new beginnings take place quickly. Life's transitions, however, manage to surprise us by bringing an extended period of uncertainty during which we feel "up in the air" or "lost at sea." About all we are sure of is that we cannot go back to the world we once knew. Eventually transitions comes to a close when new beginnings get well underway. We cannot, however, speed them up. They happen in their own good time. Renewal programs, counseling and spiritual direction, and talking with community members, friends, and confidants can help us reap greater benefit from any time of transition. Frank discussion about our situa-tlon with a person or persons whom we trust is one of the best ways to profit from a period of transition, but these conversations will not make the transition happen faster. Well used, though, periods of transition will reward us. Times of transition are times of grace. These are the desert experiences during which God speaks to our hearts. They are marked by some common feelings. We find ourselves disillusioned, or disengaged from our community or other people. The roles that we fill in life often do not make much sense anymore. Though these periods may frighten and disturb us, leave us resdess and uncertain, they are times of purification, of deepening our understanding, of opportunity to rework our life Times of transition are times of grace. 63.3 2004 Sammon ¯ Fidelity and Commitment commitments and come to love them more deeply. Single people, married people, priests, and men and women religious all go through times of transition. We need not be alarmed when they come, but we should handle them intelligently, and seek advice in doing so. One Person's Story Here is an example of one person's life transition. Several years ago, while I was visiting a province, a young brother whom I will call Michael came to speak with me. He was heavy of heart and told of being in love with a young woman, a religious sister whom he had met while taking some classes. He was heavy of heart because he felt divided between loving this young woman and having an equal love for our Marist brotherhood and mission. He asked me for my reaction to his situation. I said, "Michael, it sounds like Christmas morning!" Looking surprised, he asked what I meant. I said that the relationship he described sounded wonderful, but that, as he probably realized, he faced some difficult decisions. He could not live for any length of time divided between this new relationship and his love of Marist life and mission. Eventually he would have to answer a question that all of us face in life: On whom or what do I set my heart? This spiritual question lies within every life transition. None of us can live for long with a divided heart. Eventually we must decide where we stand in life and what we hold dear. These major life commitments, then, become over time the touchstone for many of the other important decisions we must make in life. And what about this young brother today, several years later? Michael took his life situation in hand, as did the young sister. Both began to meet with spiritual directors, and he met with a counselor as well--and he began talking more honestly with the members of his community. Eventually Michael and his friend realized Review for Religious that the relationship they shared was an important source of support to their respective vocations. Today he finds his commitment to our congregation and mission stronger and deeper than in the past, and the young sister has a similar experience. Over time both realized that their community-life commitments and the values they hold dear are a steady compass helping them make the right choices in life. This young brother showed a great deal of courage. He could have avoided discussing his relationship, or deceived himself by minimizing its importance in his life. Instead, he accepted the grace that God gave him and found himself growing more aware of God's dream for him and accepting all that that dream required of him. Commitments and Freedom What is a commitment? To begin with, every. commitment involves a call. By one means or another, Jesus Christ gets our attention and invites us into a loving relationship with him. The mystery of election obviously plays an important role in the process. The relationship that we have with Jesus is the foundation upon which our religious vocations are built. Every commitment calls for a choice. And you and I both know that the choices we make in life help to define us. If your provincial asks you to decide between preparing to be a formator or working on a master's degree in mathematics, you quickly realize that the choice you make will affect the structure of your life at least for the immediate future, and probably also during the years to come. Finally, every commitment involves a promise. A promise is a particular kind of choice because it describes something that we intend to do in the future. For example, when you and I made our commitment in our Marist brotherhood to be poor, chaste, and obedient, we 63.3 2004 Sammon ¯ Fidelity and Commitment Freedom refers to our capacity to be self-determining. were not merely making a prediction about our future or reporting on our present state of mind. We were stating a firm intention and binding ourselves to a future course of action. So what is the advantage of making any type of commitment? To make a promise is the surest way for any of us to determine the direction of our life rather than to have it set for us. At first glance, freedom and commitment appear incompatible. Many of us have been led to believe that our happiness in life is related directly to the number of options that we have available. And conventional wisdom insists that to increase our freedom we need only increase our capacity for having our own way. This line of argument is aimed at convincing us that any life commitment is best put off, because it will only limit us, rein us in, make us less free. Life experience, though, reveals the flaw in this thinking. Zebulun, I think you and I both realize that a failure to commit ourselves does not ensure greater freedom. Freedom, after all, refers to our capacity to be self-determining. In promising to live out a particular way of life or to be a partner in a lifelong relationship, people choose freely to grow in one direction and not in another. Yes, it is important to be an adolescent for a while, to explore and experience different options for living, but it is equally important not to be an adolescent for a lifetime. All of us continue to explore throughout the course of life, but those among us who are perpetually adolescent use exploration to avoid ever making a gift of our lives, In the end we do not live life, we dabble in it. In making a commitment, then, we do not surrender freedom--most often we enhance it. Any of us, in Review for Religious committing ourselves fully to our life as brothers, will likely find that our potential for spiritual, apostolic, and emotional growth is enhanced. We become more focused and have greater intimacy with God and with others. By trying to keep all our options open, by refusing to make choices and commitments, we would eventually lose our freedom. Over time our life would be determined by forces beyond our control. What about Permanent Commitments? Most of us do not have much of a problem with the idea of commitments. Some of us, however, have a problem with the notion of permanence. I would suggest, though, that there is an intrinsic connection between "forever" and some life commitments. Every day all over the world people express their love for each other through marriage vows, saying "until death do us part." They do not just pledge themselves to persevere as long as all goes well, but rather they aspire to remain together no matter what obstacles stand in their way. Never mistake "forever" with stagnation or a lack of growth. The notion of "temporary commitment" makes me uncomfortable. It apparently comes from the tawdry "everything is disposable" attitude in contemporary culture, and, besides, the words temporary and commitment somehow do not seem to go together. If you or I want to give five years of our lives to a project, why call that gift of rime and talent a commitment. Wouldn't some word like agreement or arrangement better convey what we mean? What justifies a permanent commitment? Something quite simple: no better soil for human gro~vtb has yet been found. A permanent commitment, though, must always be judged by the fruit it bears. If any of us becomes bored, indifferent, and resentful in his permanent commitment, people wonder what it contributes to the 63.3 2004 Sammon * Fidelity and Commitment vitality of the group. They know that making our vows does not signal the journey's end. Rather it heralds a journey well begun. Perseverance is not necessarily a good measure of fidelity. Haven't some of us lived and worked with brothers who appeared so unhappy in our way of life and ministry that we had to ask 6urselves why he stays. Surely God did not plan for him to be so miserable in our way of life and our ministry to poor children and young people! Today, however, we face a phenomenon more visible than in the past and best described as the "breaking of commitments." You and I have known brothers, good men, who early in the course of their lives committed themselves generously to God and to others and who, over time, strove to live out faithfully the commitment they made. Then, as the years passed and their relationships with God, themselves, and others unfolded, these very same men came. to question the promises they had made in good faith so many years ago. Is Perseverance Always a Sign of Fidelity? In the enthusiasm that marked their early years of Marist life, they had made vows intending them to be permanent. With the passage of time, however, they found that, no matter how hard they tried, they could not live them out fully. During times of life transition--and for a number of us these changes occur when we are about thirty years old and then again during our early forties--many seek an answer to this question: Is it fidelity when someone clings to a vowed commitment and rigidly perseveres without facing honestly the .dull performance and lack of life that appear to be its fruit? ¯ Fidelity is at times exercised in change as well as in stability. For most of us~ our commitment to Jesus as Marist brothers reflects~ the deepest currents in our lives and significant aspects of our.personality. To some of our Review for Religious brothers, however, time reveals that more than anything else their commitment merely serves their need for security or provides a place to be of service to people. For a few other brothers, there is a growing realization that important elements of their commitment have died. For these last groups, the task at midlife is not simply to understand more fully the "mixed motives" that draw them to one vocation or another. Rather, it is to see that they have been living their life on a deficient grasp of some important truths or that their once cherished dream is in pieces. Moments of profound sadness, loss, and confusion accompany their growing awareness that sometimes fidelity to God, to oneself, and to others may be exercised in acknowledging that somehow a com-mitment has died or should be treated that way. We must, however, not use this line of reasoning to put aside a life commitment too easily. Whenever any of us are confronted with serious questions and doubts about our commitment as brothers, we must do no less than commit ourselves to a careful d

Issue 58.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1999. ; f'o r reli i , C~stian Heritages and Contempora~ Living SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER1999 ¯ VOLUME58 ~°~NUMBER5 Review for Religious is a forum for shared r(flection on the lived experience of all who find that the church's rich heritages of spirituality support their personal and apostolic Christian lives. Tbe articles in tbe journal are meant to be informative, practical, historical, or inspirational, written from a theological or spiritual or ~ometimes canonical point of view. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published hi-monthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: foppema@slu.edu Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ° 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP P.O. Box 29260; Washington, D.C. 20017 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 c~)ver for information on subscription rates. ©1999 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff 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 Kathryn Richards FSP Joel Rippinger OSB Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla SJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER'1999 ¯ VOLUME58 ¯ NUMBER5 contents 454 perspectives The Self in Postmodern Thought: A Carmelite Response Vilma Seelaus OCD places the biblical God-related understanding of the. self, on which the Carmelite tradition rests, in conversation with the postmodern self. 470 The "World" from Anthony of Egypt to Vatican II Frederick E. Crowe SJ examines some major transitions in the Christian attitude toward the world, especially as a new context for the meaning of consecrated life. 490 brothers "Come Closer. I Am Your Brother": Being and Doing Brotherhood Joel Giallanza CSC reflects on the very identity of the religious vocation of "brother" as providing both brothers themselves and the church with a rich and prophetic spirituality. Religious Brothers: One Vocation Director's Perspective Paul Bednarczyk CSC shares his reflections on why fewer people are choosing to be brothers and on some possible countermeasures. Review for Religious 5OO journeying On Promise Making, Leave-Taking, and Becoming Avis Clendenen brings together personal experience and psychological and theological insight in addressing the reality of making and breaking commitments. 515 Charism and Membership: Surpassing the Institutional Limits of Religious Life Deborah M. Cerullo SSND proposes that emphasis on becoming grounded in the charism through a common novitiate experience would create a better synthesis of diverse ways of being members. 524 associates Identity, Purpose, Organization: Ongoing Associate Programs Rose McDermott SSJ presents a brief historical overview of associates and associations joined to religious institutes, reviews church legislation, and then raises issues about sound future development. 537 Similarity and Uniqueness in the Association Experience: Theological Reflection Roberta Archibald SSJ, Joanne Bauer SBS, Mary Mester RSM, and Jean Ustasiewski OSF share their experience of using theological reflection in a regional gathering of associates and sisters. departments 452 Prisms 546 Canonical Counsel: Impediments to Admission 552 Book Reviews September-October 1999 prisms Thy kingdom come The words kingdom and reign sound off-putting to most Americans. We have little tra-dition of kings and queens. What we have of it stems from a relatively brief past of early colonizers looking back to European roots. But when we Christians pray the Lord's prayer, we find ourselves begging God--the one we address by Jesus' word Father--that "your king-dom will come." By Jesus' teaching us a way to pray as he prays, we seem to be using language that pictures God as ruler or king and God's area of influence as a kingdom. What do we mean when we pray "Thy kingdom come"? Perhaps we can gain some cl,arity by identifying first what we do not mean. Kingdom is not to be identi-fied with any political entity. Even the age-old notion of Christendom was not tl~e same as this kingdom, and so the breakup of Christendom was not a dissolution of the kingdom. Kingdom is not a certain physical locale. The Roman Catholic Church as an institutional structure is not identified with the kingdom. The church has an important role to play in the kingdom, but it is not the kingdom itself. The church continues the mission of Jesus in proclaiming the kingdom. The church is at the service of the kingdom; it is meant to be a sign, a sacrament of its presence. The kingdom is not something that we human beings fashion or build. We may sing some songs about Review for Religious our "building the kingdom of God," but there is no reality to be done corresponding to our words. According to the gospel imper-ative, we seek first the kingdom of God. We want what God wants. We desire to be totally available to God, ready to serve, eager to do God's will. Doing the will of God involves discipleship--hear-ing the call of Jesus and responding with the total gift of self. Doing the will of God makes the kingdom present, because we are busy about what God is busy about, and so we are where God is. Above all, as our petition teaches us, we pray for the coming of the kingdom since it is God's doing, it is God's work. Jesus himself never gives a definition of kingdom, and we may be surprised that no one seems to question him. In the synoptic Gospels, he never claims the kingdom as his; it always is identified with the one he calls Abba. Only through parables do we find Jesus giving some description of the kingdom. Our Christian Eucharist anticipates the frequent parable allusions to the eating and drink-ing at the Lord's table in the kingdom. For in every Eucharist we place ourselves with Jesus in his total availability to God as he prays "not my will, but yours be done." So what are we to say about the kingdom? How are we to make this petition our own every time we pray the Our Father? The kingdom is the inbreaking presence of God to our human world and our responsive relating to God's being with us. God continues to pour out divine life--what we name as grace--and, when human cooperation is present, then the kingdom is right at hand. Just as the disciples experienced the transfiguration of Jesus, so too the kingdom is often experienced by our touching into this transfiguration kind of moment of a deeper-down reality shining out through our ordinary world. As we enter into this jubilee year, not through the alarms of some millenarians, but rather through the gospel introduction of Jesus, we hear anew Jesus' call to conversion and repentance, his admonition of obedience and watchfulness, and his appeal to be ready and waiting. We are like members of a wedding party--joy-ful, expectant. But it is no bride or groom whom we serve and cel-ebrate. It is our triune God--shining out as the redemptive presence of the Father in Jesus through the power of their Spirit of love. What do we want for ourselves and for our world? "Thy Kingdom come." David L. Fleming sJ September-October 1999 perspectives VILMA SEELAUS The Self in Postmodern Thought: A Carmelite Response This article was conceived at the end of the Carmelite Seminar of 1997 at St. Mary's College in South Bend. I had an opportunity to browse in the Notre Dame book-store, and two titles in different sections waved for my attention. The first was The Thought of the Heart and the Soul of the World, in which Jungian author James Hillman takes archetypal psychology in a new direction. He claims that, with the soul of the world sick as evidenced by violence and corruption, individuals become sick at heart and suffer heart attacks. To restore the heart's courage and its imaginative power, therefore, the soul of the world needs the same attention that we have been giving to the soul of individual persons. Situating the individual self within the heart of the world challenges the rugged individualism of the modern self.1 The other book that caught my attention was Anthony Thiselton's Interpreting God and the Postmodern Self, in which he offers a hermeneutic of selfhood. Thiselton compares and assesses both modern and post-modern interpretations of the self in relation to Christian Vilma Seelaus OCD made this presentation in June 1998 at the Carmelite Seminar at St. Mary's College in South Bend, Indiana. It is being published also on audio- and videocas-sette by ICS Publications and the Carmelite Institute. Her address is Carmelite Monastery; Barrington, Rhode Island 02806. Review for Religious theology. Postmodern interpretations, he acknowledges, perceive the self as trapped within a network of role performances imposed on it by the power interests of others, but he argues for a deeper understanding of the self and its destiny. Postmodernism de-cen-ters the self; it denies any permanent, integrated reality to the self. It claims that identity is socially constructed and that people in different kinds of societies have quite different identity-forming experiences. Thiselton accepts the force of this, but argues for a deeper understanding of the self in relation to the biblical vision of reality and Christian theology.2 Reading Hillman and Thiselton enticed me into further study of postmodern thought in relation to the self. Before long, the complexity of the topic had my head spinning) Furthermore, post-modern debates about the very nature of reality challenged beliefs that shape my life as a Carmelite. And yet, the more perplexed I became, the more firmly did an inner conviction stand its ground: that our Carmelite mystical tradition has perennial values and insights for our postmodern world and perhaps for many worlds yet to come. In these reflections, therefore, I place the biblical God-related understanding of the self, on which the Carmelite tradition rests, in conversation with the postmodern self. I do this in two parts. Part One brings together important insights from both the mod-ern and the postmodern movements, showing a shift in under-standing the self. Part Two looks into the writings of Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross for what they offer by way of chal-lenge, expansion, or depth in regard to the self and in regard to our own spiritual journey.as we enter the new millennium. Part One Walter Truett Anderson's insightful and witty book titled: Reality Isn't What It Used to Be helped me to realize that the self in particular is not what it used to be. What did the self use to be that it no longer is? What are the shifts in self-understanding, which, for better or for worse, postmodernism names for us? How might we as Christians respond appropriately to the challenge of post-modernism? First, what do we mean by postmodern? Postmoderns claim to have superseded, to have gone beyond, previous ways of thinking, feeling, and behaving which developed in the so-called modern September-October 1999 Seelaus ¯ The Self in Postmodern Thought period. It deconstructs them, to use the "in" term. At the same time, postmodernism is far from a developed, coherent social theory. Scholars dispute whether or not it is a form of radical modernism or something distinctive after modernism, or some of each. According to Philip Endean in his foreword to an issue of The Way dedicated to postmodernism and spirituality: As the structure of the word implies, the postmodern cannot be understood for what it is in itself, but only in terms of what has preceded it: the postmodern is a gamut of reac-tions to the modern, swinging between two moods: a mood of disillusionment, as previously unquestioned assumptions and standards are found wanting, and a mood of exhilara-tion, as new and better alternatives are explored, develop&d, and advocated. Postmodern thinking draws on a wide range of sources: from cybernetics to feminism, from literary the-ory to the new physics, from cultural history to psychoanal-ysis and linguistics. Perhaps for this reason its expression can be, notoriously, opaque.4 Although the philosopher Kant back in the 18th century.paved the way, the 1960s are considered the true beginning of the post-modern era. At that time everything came into question, and all belief systems, with their traditional values, came under attack. People in the '60s began to question what they called the myth of objective consciousness: that, when you looked at things, what you saw and described was what was actually there. (At the scene of an accident, eyewitnesses often give conflicting accounts of what happened.) Today constructivists hold that the "real world" is an ever changing social creation. In the 1960s, thoughts about the self were also changing. As Anderson points out: In the '60s, people assumed that, if you developed enough contempt for your old socially adapted self, a new True Self, unsullied by any conformity, would magically appear, that a True Culture and a True Politics likewise stood in the wings--and that when they appeared they would not have to coexist with old selves, old cultures, old politics. Things didn't work that way!6 Though the '60s were the time of eruption, postmodernism con-tinues and radicalizes trends that actually began during the Enlightenment, at the dawn of what philosophers call the "mod-ern period." Descartes (1596-1650), the classical modern philoso-pher of clear and distinct ideas, attempted to provide clear and Revieva for Religious certain criteria against which our knowledge can be tested for truth. He was also intensely preoccupied with the subject who knows these ideas: the knowing person. For today's radical deconstructionists, like Derrida, such Cartesian objectivity is anathema. Derrida holds all reality to be socially constructed. Reality is simply the interpretation of the perceiving subject. Derrida insists that we cannot grasp reality because it slips by before we can catch hold of it. Everything, then, is interpreta-tion. Nevertheless, Derrida and the other decon-structionists are in a way Descartes's descendants. Descartes understands the self as an active agent, whereas for Derrida the self shifts from active agent to passive situatedness. Instead of a core something (called selJ) determining how it will respond to different situations, the situation cre-ates the self. Different situations call forth a dif-ferent self to be expressed.7 On the whole, postmoderns recognize the importance, for its time, of the modern move-ment. It brought new values to the fore. We ben-efit from the knowledge that scientific objectivity makes possible. From it come the many techno-logical wonders that are integral to our everyday life. In the moral and political spheres, modernity made room for personal autonomy and liberty and for the development of a liberal society wherein diversity is possible. Religion, too, has been enriched by modernity. Most Jewish and Christian believers, for example, no longer subscribe to a literal understanding of the Bible's story of creation in six days.8 But the improvements of modernity have a dark side: the exploitation of nature and its resources, the emergence of indi-vidualism and the consequent collapse of the sense of community, the divorce of technology from moral values, and denials of the worth of ethnic, tribal, and religious traditions. While the modern period gave us universal abstract systems and scientific "metanar-ratives," accounts of the origins and development of the universe, these often denied the existence of God or denied that God could ¯ be discovered by the conscious self. As a result, in today's world many lives are governed by efficiency, profit, success, and the will Modernity made room for personal autonomy and liberty and for the development of a liberal society wherein diversity is possible. September-October 1999 Seelaus ¯ The Self in Postmodern Thought to power without regard for ultimate human values. Talk of love, truthfulness, belief, loyalty, and so forth has little meaning. Further, advanced technology, the offspring of the modern period, has introduced a world of ceaseless change. New models quickly replace the old. Things are made not to endure, but to be consumed and replaced. Think of how quickly appliances need replacement or upgrading. Indeed, today we struggle with both the benefits and the dark side of the modern period. As science enabled the modern self more and more to carve out and control its own destiny, the self tended to be assured and opti-mistic. But today, as postmodern thinkers become increasingly aware of the self's arrogant, power-hungry dark side, the self appears to be, in fact, de-centered--no longer an active agent, but instead taking its identity from the variable roles imposed upon it by society and by its own inner drives and conflicts, conflicts which the communications media keep in constant motion. The media, especially the advertising world, tell it who it should be, how it should look, what it should own, and where it needs to travel in order to feel good about itself. Postmoderns see our opinions formed for us by the collective perceptions of the media. Under such conditions, notions of a true self give way to the self as wear-ing different masks to suit the occasion, with little sense of a solid identity underneath. We tend to become who we think others want us to be. In theory, the will of the individual is still supreme, but often it has no strong center, no belief system to serve as anchor. When everything is up for grabs, the self lacks the support of collective meaning. There is too much to choose from; this can leave indi-viduals feeling alone in a sea of options. Many people today feel estranged from others and even from themselves. When people see no value to their lives other than the imperatives of efficiency, success, or serving the power interests of others, when their "real-ity" depends on what the TV screen says is real, no wonder there are high r~ites of suicide and physician-assisted death. Veronica Brady, in an article in The Way, describes it well: "Caught in this ceaseless flow of images, the self almost ceases to exist, breaking into fragments, identifying only with the flow. Right and wrong become a matter of personal taste, depending not so much on what is done but who does it. The center does not hold because there is no center.''9 A character in Salman Rushdie's Satanic Verses says: "Information got abolished sometime in the Review for Religious twentieth century, can't say just when, stands to reason, that's part of the information that got., abolished. Since then we've been living in a fairy-story . Everything happens by magic. [We] haven't a. notion what's going on. So how do we know if it's right or wrong? We don't even know what it is.'''° Rushdie's world of illusion hangs within the "actual" world of extremes of rich and poor, with millions dying of starvation as nations invest billions of dollars in developing new and deadlier weapons that are then sold to warring ethnic and tribal groups intent on destroying each other. In this context the theories of deconstructionists like Derrida and Lyotard begin to make sense. The absurdity of human confidence in its power to rule the world is becoming more and more apparent as the products of the human mind threaten to destroy us. At the same time, on the positive side, the modern period highlighted one of the deepest urges of the human heart: to be someone. The drift of cultural change is in the direction of human rights, of wanting everyone to be free to create personal identity and experience, even though, for many in our world, resources are not available. No wonder people become dishonest--seeking to have and be and do what the TV ads say they should have and be and do. The struggle to be someone is now a global struggle. Some years ago I had occasion to live in Israel for three months. The incongruities of the struggle became vivid for me when I saw, above Bedouin tents in the desert, TV antennas con-necting them with the modern/postmodern world. As Walter Truett Anderson puts it: "Every morning billions of pairs of eyes open, and billions of societies of mind set forth on the adventures of selfhood. For many the adventure only rarely rises above the level of a struggle to keep the body alive, but even the most mis-erable among us also hear the aspirations of the self---the 'me' craving reassurance that it exists and is good and the modern me that pursues happiness and believes that, whatever happiness it finds, will be what it has taken or created and not what has been handed down by fate.''~ To add a further dimension, the global struggle to be someone is seen with fresh and deep insight by postmodern psychologists who have been influenced by Buddhism. Psychologists Robert Rosenbaum and John Dyckman hold with Buddhism that self/oth-ers are empty. This does not mean that they are void; it means they have no existence other than in relationships that are con- Septentber-October 1999 Seelaus ¯ The Self in Postmodern Thought World and self mutually influence and create one another. stantly arising in the immediate experience of the moment. To say that the self is empty means that the self is not a thing and there-fore has no unchanging core characteristics or essence. It is a way of indicating that self is always completely connected to its imme-diate experience, that in the immediacy of the moment, uncon-strained by past residue or future expectations, self is always free. As the Buddhist Diamond Sutra notes, the past is gone, the future is not here, and the present cannot be grasped. This is perfect freedom.12 As the authors point out, freedom here is not to be confused with a pseudofreedom that seeks to abandon all constraints. Instead, to understand emptiness as being connected to immedi-ate experience can lead to greater generosity and compassion toward the self and others. Past experience no longer has the last word. The empty self, actualized in immediate expe-rience, binds together apparent opposites: the dynamic interchange of oneness and separate-ness. These are not mutually exclusive. The empty self is the connected self which is actu-alized in context and in relationships. Observation reveals self-identity to be fluid and constantly changing according to context and relationships. As the Rosenbaum-Dyckman article puts it, "At work we may be decisive and authoritative; when out to dinner with our spouse, we may be hesitant and deferent about what to order for dinner. Yet we believe ourselves to be the same person.°13 Postmodern psychologists repeatedly make the point that our person is not encapsulated by our skin, but exists in relation. The self is always self in relation, in action, and as such is always con-textual. They hold that emotions are always a reliving in the pre-sent rather than a recall from the dead past. If we do not need to be attached to an unchanging self, and can see change as the only constant, it becomes somewhat easier to image change in prob-lem behaviors24 Although the self may be fluid and constantly changing, it must nevertheless have a boundary, but, according to Rosenbaum and Dyckman, a boundary with infinite length enclosing a finite, definable area, different from the rigid boundaries of lines on a map. Human boundaries are not abstract, conceptual schemas, but are always embodied in constant interaction with a world from Review for Religious which they are not separate. World and self mutually influence and create one another. Such mutual influencing has the potential to stretch present definable boundaries and give glimpses into the infinite. Here the parable of the Pharisee and the Publican comes to mind. If our attitude is one of self-righteousness that places us over against the rest of the world, we will be unable to hear the challenges that postmodern psychologists offer us for continued growth in our postmodern world. Our boundaries become sealed in finitude, and the infinite capacity that is ours becomes rigid, like the lines of a map. Psychologists in increasing numbers address the postmodern shift in regard to the self, and they offer valuable insights for living healthily in today's changing world. At the same time, postmodern philosophers and psychologists do not have the last word, and so now we turn to the mystics for their insights into the self. Part Two Since human boundaries are not abstract, but are embodied and are in constant interaction with the world from which they are not separate, precisely here does the biblically based Carmelite tradition offer timeless help. Back in 16th-century Spain, Teresa of Avila wrote a book to help her daughters of the reformed Carmel relate to one another and to the world, from which they were not separate even in their cloister. In her Way of Perfection, she gives her daughters some advice that flows with meaning into our post-modern age: "I shall enlarge on only three things., for it is very important that we understand how much the practice of these three things helps us to possess inwardly and outwardly the peace our Lord recommended so highly to us. The first of these is love for one another; the second is detachment from all created things; the third is true humility, which, even though I speak of it last, is the main practice and embraces all the others.''~s Many centuries separate us from Teresa and the particularity of her issues, but the interrelated dynamic of love, detachment, and humility are integral to spiritual growth in today's confusing world. Postmodernity challenges much of what we cling to by way of values and beliefs and, in particular, our self-understanding. To understand the self as fluid and constantly changing invites a deeper penetration into the Christian, Carmelite Understanding of Septentber-October 1999 Seelaus ¯ The Self in Postmodern Thought detachment. It would have us be attached to nothing, not even the most innocent of things, for in time of need they fail us com-pletely. John of the Cross insists: "To come to the knowledge you have not, you must go by a way in which you know not. To come to the possession you' have not, you must go by a way in which you possess not. To come to be what you are not, you must go by a way in which you are not . This places us in our center of humility.''16 Detachment and humility go hand in hand. They cre-ate an openness to new ideas, a willingness to let go of the past an, d let the context of the present create us anew. The contextual pre-sent is the place of encounter with God. The past, while it may continue to influence present behavior, is in fact nonexistent, and the future evolves out of each passing moment. Detachment opens up roads less traveled; but, if we feel attached to our current road, we may all too readily say, "This is me; this is my self." We have heard people say, "I'm a one on the enneagram or an INFP on the Myers-Briggs, so you have to take me as I am." With such a self-fixated attitude, we will less likely hear God's invitation into the infinite realms of potential self-realization. If we conceive of the self as determined by the pathways already taken, a composite of past experiences, it will be hard to let go when unknown paths beckon us onward. As Rosenbaum and Dyckman put it, "The self, as an accumulation of experience, is a prison; the self as empty, as shimmering potentiality, is a prism that, depending on its positioning, gives forth many different colors."17 In his Spiritual Canticle, John of the Cross reminds us that the woods and thicket in which we find ourselves today have been planted by the hand of the Beloved.18 God's self revelation con-tinues right within the human story. The density and darkness of postmodernity--which holds that there is a multiplicity of per-spectives in the search for truth, which denies a stable foundation of self and of knowledge--can generate extremes of uncertainty. But the de-centered self of postmodernity has its own gift to offer. It invites us, beyond the limits of what can be known and con-trolled, into a self that is mystery, into God as ultimate Mystery. The temptation is either to stay blinded in self-righteous cling-ing to the limitations of human knowledge, or to despair before the uncertainties of life. Detachment itself can be the void of despair, unless it is grounded in faith and in the experience of God. The Dutch theologian Frans Jozef van Beeck, in his contem-porary. Catholic systematic-theology series titled God Encountered, Review for Religious reminds us that "the human subject., is naturally and radically 'de-centered': the mature person's true center does not repose in the person. Authentic persons live on the strength of unfulfillable desire . Grace graciously enables human persons, along with their world, to that most natural, yet most divine of all things: freely to move toward God in total faith and abandon."'gIn the midst of alternative versions of reality, and many different ways of being in the world, with the postmodern tolerance for a plethora of possibilities, choosing to believe in something is vital. We can be respectful of others with differing beliefs and still stand firm in the faith that is ours, a faith that centers the self in God. According to the philosopher Kierkegaard, faith is the pas-sionate embrace of objective uncertainty.2° Faith bypasses the postmodern self that interprets, even cre-ates, its own reality. It bypasses human reason to plunge us into mystical depths where being and nonbeing are held in cre-ative tension by God's abiding presence to human life. At this level Rahner rightly speaks of the experience of God and the experience of self as one.2' In his insis-tence upon the possibility open to all of an immediate experience of God, Rahner writes: "I am convinced that such an immediacy between God and the human person., is of greater significance today than ever before. All the societal supports of religion are collapsing and dying out in this secularized and pluralistic society. If, nonetheless, there is to be real Christian spirituality, .it cannot be kept alive and healthy by external helps, not even those which the church offers., but only through an ulti-mate, immediate encounter ofthe individual with God.''22 The Harvard psychologist Charles Verge names this place of encounter "the divine self.''23 Here the self and God mirror each other.24 The longing of the human heart to be someone issues from God, in whose image we are made and whose love holds us in being. "Beloved of God" defines the self. The Spiritual Canticle of John of the Cross is a text that writes the self of each one of us. In the Canticle, God's passionate love for the soul, enfleshed in Christ, The longing of the human heart to be someone issues from God, in whose image we are made and whose love holds us in being. Septentber-October 1999 Seelaus ¯ The Self in Postmodern Thought stirs a passionate response and gives meaning and direction to life right within the extremes of uncertainty that surround us. To be transformed into the image of Christ, to become like Christ, con-stitutes the heart of the divine promise. Faith enables us to embrace, with passion, the ultimate objec-tive uncertainty that the mystery of God revealed in Christ is. Christ lifts the self out of its predefined situatedness with its self-interest, into love for God and love for others. God's love trans-forms the will to power, to possession, to lust, into will to love. The detachment that faith calls forth issues in genuine love even for those who differ from us. Postmodernism stretches our capacity to love. Life today beckons toward a global embrace of love; love for those who may look different from us, love for those who may think differently from us, and love for those whose values may be different, even opposed to ours. Today, in the face of our differences, love holds the special challenge of intense, respectful listening, which can only happen if the heart is humble. A humble heart is a heart detached from pre-conceived ideas and personal prejudice. According to Teresa, humil-ity is truth, and our truth is that we are all, without exception, finite, fragile creatures capable of sin and that as such we always stand on the threshold of ongoing conversion. At the same time, integral to truth is that each one of us is always infinitely loved and possessed by God. Insofar as we fall short, God invites us to continued conversion and, even more, to divine transformation. Our challenge is to live Christ's gospel of love. Such love dissolves the disharmony of suspicion and distrust, it detaches us from self-interest, and it opens us to others in humility and genuine con-cern. As Rahner sagely asks, "Why should there be any need for deception, which serves to protect the self, if the self is loved, wel-comed, accepted, and reconciled-as-one with the Other?''2s Receiving the self from God in Christ, giving the self to others in love, and serving the other's interests as one's own are mirrorings of God, the divine self-giving Trinity, in whose image we are. In trinitarian theology, love constitutes the ground of selfhood. The gospel account of Jesus at table, encircled by the outcasts of his time, symbolizes the self today cast out from itself and in need of re-centering in Christ. From the horizon of Christ, we see the incompleteness of all that is human in relation to our total commitment to Christ, but in Christ we also see ourselves con-nected with the heart of all that is. Revie~v for Religious The archetypal psychology of James Hillman invites us to this from a psychological perspective. He would have us see ourselves and others as intimately connected with what he calls the soul of the world. Today conversion extends to claiming our part in what Hillman rightly names the sickness of the soul of the world. He claims that the world, because of its breakdown, is entering a new moment of consciousness by having its attention drawn to itself by means of its symptoms. It is becoming aware of itself as a psychic reality. We now encounter pathology in the psyche of politics and medicine, of language and design, of the food we eat. Sickness, says Hillman, is now "out there" as well as "in here.''26 To situate our individual self within the heart of the world not only challenges the rugged individualism of the modern self; it also invites a deeper awareness of our connectedness with others and with planet Earth, whose beauty and balance are today oppressed by our violent consumer world. The world itself is now a patient in need of hea~ling. Postmodernism offers a broader understanding of the redeeming mission of Christ. The entire cos-mos becomes the locus of redemption. Like us, our church and civilization and even planet are all in need of Christ's redeeming, healing, transforming love. Postmodernism is globalism; as such it is the half-discovered truth of the one unity that transcends all our differences. The language of postmodernism would be alien to Teresa, and yet, as she increasingly experienced herself as centered in God, her self became increasingly fluid. She seems astonished as the boundaries of the self continue to expand. There are many exam-pies, but in her Autobiography, her Vida (chap. 15, para. 7), Teresa, experiencing herself infused with the light of God, comments: "And I, though being what I am, seem to be another person." In 23.1, recalling how God freed her from herself, she writes that "here begins another new life." In 27.1, having placed herself com-pletely in the hands of God, she says, "l saw that I was a com-pletely different person." In 27.9 she says, "One of these graces is enough to change a soul completely.''27 In the context of these remarks, Teresa specifically mentions that she is growing in either love, detachment, or humility. At the height of her mystical life, Teresa has a profound expe-rience that, on the level of the divine self, reflects the empty, de-centered, but relational, contextual self of postmodernity. In 40.5 of her Vida, she writes: Septentber-October 1999 Seelaus ¯ The Self in Postmodern Thought Once, while I was reciting with all the sisters the hours of the divine office, my soul suddenly became recollected; and it seemed to me to be like a brightly polished mirror, without any part on the back or sides or top or bottom that wasn't totally clear. In its center Christ our Lord was shown to me, in the way I usually see him. It seemed to me I saw him clearly in every part of my soul, as though in a mirror¯ And this mirror also--I don't know how to explain it--was com-pletely engraved upon the Lord Himself by means of a very loving communication I wouldn't know how to describe. ¯ I was given understanding of what it is for a soul to be in mortal sin. It amounts to clouding this mirror with mist and leaving it black; and thus this Lord cannot be revealed or seen, even though he is always present giving us being. In God, Teresa is connected with the world's sin, even as she affirms the ever present graciousness of God always giving us being within the darkness of sin. God is present in Teresa, not with power and might, but in love and with an invitation to self-transcendence that is as pertinent and penetrating for us today as it was for Teresa. In 3 7.11 of her l/ida, Teresa sounds as though she is living in our present age. After lamenting the foibles of her honor-bound society, with its elaborate system of etiquette, she says, "I don't know how it's all going to end up; even though I'm not y.et fifty, I've already seen so many changes I don't even know how to live anymore. What will they do who are now being born and will live for many years?" What will we do, we who have been born in this postmodern era, this era in which we live for many years, often into our nineties? Like Teresa, we do not know where it is all going to end up. Many would say that dark night engulfs our entire world and the times in which we live. The Carmelite tradition, however, assures us that God is in the night. John of the Cross eloquently describes the meaning of the soul's journey into the night of God. In this night of faith, we discover that love is the eye of God and we in turn are to see and interpret all things through the eyes of God. From this perspective we see that we are all one in God's love and that we bear one another's burdens. By the quality of our lives, Christ would have us be bearers of hope for all who suffer the travails of poverty, violence, injustice, and oppression. Right within the many forms of death that surround us is the seed of resurrec-tion impatient for new life. As we work with our differences in families, in our civic and Review for Religious church communities, we can dare to hope that our graced strug-gle will energize efforts toward understanding, toward finding common ground within the extremes of diversity that ctiaracterize our postmodern world. What we see in Teresa's writings is a devel-opment in her understanding of herself and of Christ, who com-panions her journey. Today,. as we find the self anew, we also find new ways of seeing Christ and the Christian mysteries right within our postmodern world, without getting caught in nostalgia for the past. Again, like Teresa, we do not know where it will all end up. What we do know is that the future is present, like a seed, in today's disconcerting moment. Our challenge is to live now, to live fully (but with humility, detachment, and love) what we say we believe. The sufferings of our time are not meaningless, as sec-ular postmodernity might see them. They are integral to the groan-ing of creation in labor until it brings forth redemption, the final triumph of God's love. At its deepest level the self is caught up in the incomprehensible mystery of Love we call God. Notes I James Hillman, The Thought of the Heart and the Soul of the World (Woodstock, Connecticut: Spring Publications, 1995). 2 Anthony C. Thiselton, Interpreting God and the Postmodern Self'. On Meaning, Manipulation, and Promise (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1998). 3 It also leaves me with a little anxiety that the many authors that I read be given due credit. As I prepare this paper for publication, I real-ize that much of what I read merged in my thinking as I internalized the material. 4 See The Way 36, no. 3 (July 1996): 175. s According to Anderson, Kant's work in the 18th century began with a problem that was as divisive in its time as the objectivist-con-structivist one is in ours--in this case a conflict between the British empiricists such as Locke and Hume, who saw thought as merely an instrument for understanding or using "real world experience," and the Continental philosophers such as Descartes and Leibniz, who saw the mind as the supreme organizer and discoverer of all reality. This was not a postmodern debate. All parties assumed that people could appre-hend unchanging and universal truth. Kant's attempt to resolve the con-flict was his own contribution to the search for "foundational" knowledge or reality--beyond historical and cultural relativism--but it pointed toward a view of the mind as a creator of reality. Kant describes the mind as an active organ that orders and forms the raw data of experience, 1-467-- September-October 1999 Seela~s ¯ The Self in Postmodern Thought imposing upon them its own structure; we do not experience things in themselves but rather representations of them. See Walter Truett Anderson, Reality Isn't What It Used to Be (San Francisco: Harper, 1990), pp. 59-60. 6 Anderson, Reality, p. 48. 7 See Robert Rosenbaum and John Dyckman, "Integrating Self and System: An Empty Intersection?" Family Process 34 (March 1995): 26- 27, and Kenneth J. Gergen, "The Social Construction of Self- Knowledge," in Daniel Kolak and Raymond Martin, Self and Identity: Contemporary Philosophical Issues (New York: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1991), pp. 372-403. 8 See Max Charlesworth, "Postmodernism and Theology," The Way 36, no. 3 (July 1996): 188-202, for an interesting summary of the devel-opment of modern to postmodern thought. 9 Veronica Brady, "Postmodernism and the Spiritual Life," in The Way 36, no. 3 (July 1996): 181. 10 Salman Rushdie, The Satanic Verses (London: Viking, 1988), p. 313, quoted in Brady, "Postmodernism." 11 Walter Truett Anderson, Reality, p. 132. 12 Rosenbaum and Dyckman, "Integrating," pp. 28-33. 13 Rosenbaum and Dyckman, "Integrating," p. 26. 14 According to Rosenbaum and Dyckman, "Integrating," pp. 35-37, acknowledging memory as constructive, as a present contextual experi-ence, rather than as retrieval of the past, helps to avoid difficulties such as the controversies over recovered memories of trauma and abuse, which are a sensitive contemporary issue. ~s Teresa of Avila, Way of Perfection (Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1980), chap. 4, para. 4, p. 54. 16 The Collected Works of St. John of the Cross, trans. Kieran Kavanaugh OCD and Otilio Rodriguez OCD (Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1991), p. 150. 17 Rosenbaum and Dyckman, "Integrating," p. 37. is See his Spiritual Canticle, stanza 4, in Collected Works, p. 494. 19 Frans Jozef van Beeck, God Encountered: A Contemporary Catholic Systematic Theology, Vol. 2/1 (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1993), p. 238. 20 Soren Kierkegaard, "Truth Is Subjectivity," in Concluding Unscientific Postscript, ed. and trans. Howard V. Hong and Edna H. Hong (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992), pp. 169ff. "Truth is precisely the con° tradiction between the infinite passion of the individual's inwardness and the objective uncertainty. If I am capable of grasping God objectively, I do not believe, but precisely because I cannot do this I must believe. If I wish to preserve myself in faith, I must constantly be intent upon hold-ing fast the objective uncertainty, so as to remain out upon the deep, over seventy thousand fathoms of water, still preserving my faith . " Review for Religious 2~ See Karl Rahner, "Experience of Self and Experience of God," in Theological Investigations, vol. 13 (New York: Crossroad, 1983), pp. 122- 132. 22 See "The Immediate Experience of God in the Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius of Loyola," in Karl Rahner in Dialogue, ed. Paul Imhof and Hubert Biallowons, trans. Harvey D. Egan (New York: Crossroad, 1986), p. 176. 20 See Charles Verge, "Foundations for a Spiritually Based Psychotherapy," in Religion and Family, ed. L. Burton (Hayworth Press, 1992), pp. 41-59. 24 See also her Autobiography in Collected Works of Teresa of Avila, Vol. 1, trans. Kieran Kavanaugh OCD and Otilio Rodriguez OCD (Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1976), chap. 40, paras. 5 ~nd 10. Teresa here recounts two visions in which God and the soul mirror each other. See also Spiritual Canticle, stanza 12, in Collected Works of John of the Cross, pp. 515-519. 2s Quoted in Thiselton, Interpreting God, p. 160. z6 Hillman, Thought of the Heart, pp. 96-99. 27 With only a quick glance, I found chap. 20, paras. 23, 25, and 26- 28; chap. 21, paras. 8-9; and chap. 25, paras. 18-19--all referring to Teresa experiencing herself as a different person. The Salvation Cup I raise my fragile, broken cup. Accept it empty. Nothing I own can f!ll it. This is the cup of my truth, my faith in the promise, my salvation cup. Fill it with the wine of the Spirit, the river that makes fertile my barren ground, the ocean of never ending mystery. This is my cup. With it I offer my fragileness, my sinfulness and my broken promises. Heal me, Spirit of God, with theelixir of salvation. Virginia Skrdlant SHCJ September-October 1999 FREDERICK E. CROWE The "World" from Anthony of Egypt to Vatican II An old proverb, once thought to be scriptural, warns us that where there is no understanding the people perish. Scriptural or not, the proverb itself is sound enough, and I would apply it to the institution of religious life. On all sides the question is heard: Is religious life dying? I refuse to believe that the God who gave us Anthony of Egypt, Benedict, Francis, Dominic, Ignatius, and so many others down to Mother Teresa is a God who intends religious life to perish. But I do believe in the need for under-standing, so that through our input God's operative grace may become cooperative. The Pattern of Human Thinking This essay is, then, an essay in understanding, but much more modest in scope than the preceding paragraph would suggest. It does not attempt td study religious life in its essence, its proper-ties, its various manifestations. It goes back rather to a prelimi-nary question and takes one small point for study: the Christian attitude toward what we call the "world." It is my hope that, if we gain some understanding on this background question, we will have a context for an eventual rethinking of religious life itself. Frederick E. Crowe SJ wrote "The Ignatian Exercises and Jesuit Spirituality" for our July-August 1994 issue. His address remains Lonergan Research Institute; 10 St. Mary Street, Suite 500; Toronto, Ontario; M4Y 1P9 Canada. Review for Religious My approach is historical rather than analytic. It examines the major transitions in the Christian attitude toward the world. It finds a dialectic running through history, a dialectic of to and fro that is not a mere alternation, but a progressively unfolding pat-tern in which each alternation is a step forward. It concludes with the way the church is finding new meaning for its role in the world, and proposes this as a new context in which religious too might find today the meaning of their consecrated life. The advantage of approaching history as a dialectic in the sense described is twofold. First, it may lift us out of our "crisis" mood, in which we think of our present situation as a spiritual fever, as a low point from which the patient may either die or recover and resume life as it was before the crisis. In a dialectical understanding, that is not the case. The low point is an opening on a new high. Second, a dialectic follows an intelligible pattern, with each step part of a natural, though not necessarily logical, sequence. This means that, if we can plot the sequence up to the present, we may be able to establish the direction of movement and discern the path we should take into the developing and unknown future. That "natural sequence" is the pattern of human thinking in time, the way the human mind naturally works as it progresses toward fuller and fuller understanding. In itself the pattern is sim-ple enough. Faced with a problem area of any complexity, the human mind will first find some specific factor of explanation, will tend to make that the whole explanation, but will eventually see that it is insufficient as a total view. It will then discover a generic factor and will in turn make that the full explanation, only to dis-cover that this too is insufficient as a total view. Eventually, in the dialectical oscillation of specific and generic, the mind will arrive at a higher viewpoint and hold the specific and the generic in the unity of a full understanding. The Pattern Illustrated That is terribly abstract. So, before applying it to the history of Christian thinking on the world, let me offer two concrete illus-trations that show the pattern as realized in actual history. First, the natural priority of the specific is easily illustrated in human lan-guage. "So in Homer there were words for such specific activities as glancing, peering, staring, but no generic word for seeing.''1 This is "both the strength and the weakness of'early language";~ it Septentber-October 1999 Crowe ¯ The "WorM"from Anthony of Egypt to Vatican ll The term vocation was appropriated to the religious life (as it commonly still is). has the power of the concrete, but is unable to reason in abstract or generic terms. And so in learning to write English we are told to search for the specific, for the concrete descriptive word, but in the strict reasoning of, say, a legal question we may have to resort to technical and abstract language. What is true of human language is true also of human think-ing, and so my second illustration is taken from the theology of our need for divine grace. Here there was first the discovery of a specific explana-tion, namely, the fall of our first parents. This was largely the focus of St. Augustine's thinking, which centered on the difference between their state before the fall and ours after it. This idea ran its course for about seven centuries, cul-minating in the position of Peter Lombard, namely, that there are in the grace-history of our human race "four states of human liberty: the earthly paradise, fallen man, man redeemed, and heaven.''3 Our need for divine grace is understood in relation to those states. Meanwhile, however, the insufficiency of this specific step was gradually becoming apparent. There was difficulty in defining lib-erty; the doctrine of merit tended to hang in mid air; even grace itself lacked a clear definition, for what is there that is not a free gift of God and therefore grace?4 The dialectic of ideas was prepar-ing theologians for the next step, the discovery of the generic the-orem of two orders with quite distinct status in the universe of being, the supernatural order and the natural: "not only was there the familiar series of grace, faith, charity, and merit, but also nature, reason, and the natural love of God.''5 This was largely the work of Philip the Chancellor in Paris in the early 1200s. It was an epoch-making discovery, and it put the question of our need for divine grace on an entirely new basis, releasing a whole series of developments. But so intoxicating was Philip's idea that theologians made a mistake exactly parallel to the one their predecessors made in the use of Augustine: the view that this was a complete and adequate explanation. Thomas Aquinas himself, in his early writings, shows hints of this one-sidedness, not giving sufficient attention to the moral impotence that is the result of Adam's fall. Nevertheless, it was Thomas who finally Review for Religious brought, the two factors, the specific and the generic, into unity. Peter Lombard's four states remain in the Thomist synthesis, but as applying to a specific question within the genus of the total divine plan.6 The Pattern Verified in the Specific Idea of "World" I have illustrated the way the human mind naturally works in time as it advances in understanding: first, a specific idea; then, exaggeration of this idea; next, a generic idea; exaggeration of this in its turn; eventually a synthesis. I believe the pattern is discernible also in the history of Christian thinking on the idea of the world. There too I find a specific and a generic factor, with the specific the first to be discovered and exploited beyond its potentiality, and the generic the next to be discovered and in its turn exploited beyond due measure. Again let us turn from the abstract to the concrete. Concretely the first step may be located in, or at least represented by, Anthony of Egypt. Toward the end of the 3rd century, "Anthony gave away his possessions, and devoted himself to a life of asceticism, and c. 285 retired completely into the desert . Towards the end of his life, the numbers of those who turned to the solitary life of the desert increased as the result of the secularization of the church.''7 It is possible to see this development in too simplistic a fash-ion, but at least one characteristic feature is clear: flight from the world. So it produced works with titles like De contemptu mundi (On contempt of the world). It filled Europe with hermitages, con-vents, and monasteries. For twelve centuries the idea ran its course with enormous impact on Christian v.alues, Christian living, Christian institutions.8 But it suffered the handicap of being a specific idea attempt-ing to provide a total view. For one example, the term vocation was appropriated to the religious life (as it commonly still is). In this respect the laity of the church and even the diocesan clergy were deemed to belong to a lower class: they did not have a "voca-tion." A reaction was inevitable, but it was centuries taking shape. Many diverse influences were at work promoting it. Its history is a complex interweaving of those influences. There were subver-sive along with legitimate movements. But what was positive and valid in the reaction, and quite natural and basic in the unfolding Septentber-October 1999 Crowe ¯ The "WorM"from Anthony of Egypt to Vatican II dialectic, was the emergence of the generic factor in the concept of the world. The Pattern Verified in the Generic Idea of "World" The quite basic event, then, in the. emergence of the generic concept of the world was the discovery by Philip the Chancellor of the two orders: natural and supernatural. I used this earlier to illustrate the pattern of human thinking as it is found in theology (not only was there the familiar series of grace, faith, charity, and merit, but also nature, reason, an'd the natural love of God). I use it now as a basic explanatory factor for the new stage of our dialec-tic. That is no accident. It is an idea so fundamental that it is bound to appear in the history of any theological idea. It underpins all that I have to say in this section and the following. Every discovery makes its way against opposition from an estab-lishment. The recognition of the natural order had to be followed by a recognition of its rightful autonomy, and that could not fail to be a traumatic experience for the church. The history of this strug-gle need not detain us here. In essence the point is that the human race was not only created divine; it was also created human, with a need for hunting, fishing, farming, for song and dance, for math-ematics, science, philosophy, whatever lies within its potency for development. Without grace we are able, Thomas Aquinas would say, using his favorite example, to cultivate our fields and build our houses. But the full extent of that principle means that without grace we can marry and be given in marriage, form guilds among artisans, establish universities, function as nations, join in a world union of peoples, explore the boundaries of space. Further, the natural has its own laws. Natures operate uni-formly: we do not gather grapes from thorns or figs from thistles (Mr 7:17). And those natural laws can be isolated in thought and allowed to develop and flourish according to their own potential. For to be human is to learn: to learn that there are human tech-niques for producing good crops, human means for controlling nature, human means of self-government, human means for gain-ing wisdom and educating upcoming generations, and so on through the list. If, then, we take a broad view of the forest, not stopping to study individual trees, we can discern here the generic factor in Review for Religious the concept of the world, the needed complement to the specific factor provided by Anthony. This generic factor is the recogni-tion of the world as good in its own right. God did not create an evil universe, but made all things that they might have being and life (Ws 1:13-14; 1 Tm 4:4). That means that we can no longer be satisfied with the negative connotation of "flight from the world." There is a positive side to Anthony's strategy: its focus on the transcen-dent. The negative side is not repudiated, but it has to be seen in relation to that focus and has to be complemented by a generic view of the goodness of all creation. But the pattern of the dialectic suggests that this step too will be exaggerated, and that is exactly what happened. In the intoxication of this new idea, there was a widespread repudia-tion of the age-old flight from the world. Convents and monasteries were emptied; instead of contemptus mundi, there was a glorification of the secular.9 And so secularism arose: what was legitimate in the discovery of the natural, what was legitimate in the declaration of its auton-omy was magnified to an ism. What was a genetic idea that should have been brought into union with the specific paraded as the full explanation of the universe. A movement for the liberation of the secular became a secularism. The secular and the sacred have to do with human thought and feeling and the human use of creation. Uniting the Specific and the Generic: New Categories Christian thinking on th~ world has gone through the two phases inherent in the dialectic of human learning: the discovery and undue exploitation of a specific factor, followed by a reaction, and the discovery and undue exploitation of a generic factor, fol-lowed in its turn by a reaction. The current need is for the inte-gration of the two factors, and the categories that offer hope of that are the sacred and the secular. This pair of terms has crept into our discussion as related to, but not identical with, the supernatural and the natural. They need more careful definition. The natural and the supernatural provide the framework of creation; they are what philosophers would call Septentber-October 1999 Crowe ¯ The "WorM"from Anthony of Egypt to Vatican 11 the ontological constituents of the universe. But the secular and the sacred have to do with human thought and feeling and the human use of creation; they pertain to the cultural sphere rather than the ontological. The natural cannot be made supernatural: as Isaiah reports the word of the Lord, "my thoughts are not your thoughts, and your ways are not my ways" (Is 55:8, NEB). God is the wholly other. Grace perfects nature but does not destroy it. The natural, then, maintains its identity within the unity of God's creative plan. Catholic schools do not use a different mathematics to add and subtract, to divide and multiply. But while the natural remains what it was created to be, it can be invested with the aura of the supernatural, and in this sense the natural can be sacralized, become sacred. Bernard Lonergan provides a context in which to locate this cultural transformation: "The whole world of sense is to be. a token, a mystery, of God"; and again: "the world of sense is. a mystery that signifies God as we know him and symbolizes the fur-ther depths that lie beyond our comprehension.''~° This means that the secular, not only as a world but also in its various aspects, can in human thought and feeling be given the character of the sacred. So in primitive peoples there was a religious ritual for plant-ing and harvesting, for coming to puberty and marrying, for rev-erent remembering of the dead, and so on. All these activities are given a sacred aspect, though their natural basis allows for their secular use. But they are only potentially secular; they are not at first recognized to have that aspect. For the human race is funda-mentally religious, in the sense of being created with a religious consciousness, and has remained religious despite all the protests of unbelievers. One may say: In the beginning was the sacred. That is, what later became distinguished as the two zones of the sacred and the secular was at first all one zone, and it was sacred. Now, just as in the ontological sphere the natural component of the universe had to be recognized for what it was, the natural, so too in the sphere of the cultural the legitimately secular aspect had to escape from the domination of the sacred and assume its independent role in the plan of creation. In the course of this development, there was inevitably a conflict with the representa-tives of the sacred; inevitably too the secular won its rightful inde-pendence. "For this sacralized construct of man and his universe was impugned and impugned successfully by Copernicus, Galileo, Review for Relig4ous and Newton, by Darwin and Freud, and by the swarm of philoso-phies" at least since Descartes.~l So the struggle between natural and supernatural was repeated here, with the same exaggerations. The extremists were not con-tent to liberate the secular; they were driven also to desecrate the sacred. Concretely we might think of the relation between a sec-ular day of rest and the Lord's Day. There has been a strong ten-dency in this matter for the sacral to dictate to the secular, imposing a religious observance so strict as to frustrate the secu-lar purpose of a day of rest. But on the other side there is the des-ecration of the Lord's Day represented in past history by the extremists in the French Revolution and, some would say, by the present Sunday shopping. Uniting the Specific and the Generic: New Strategy Perhaps it is possible now to sketch the lines we might follow to achieve the desired integration of our specific and generic fac-tors. Our question is: How is the church to achieve the unity of Anthony and Aristotle, of Jerusalem and Athens, of the transcen-dent and the this-worldly, and now in particular of the sacred and the secular? Our suggestion is that what had been at first unwit-tingly sacralized was then wittingly secularized. Bur what was wit-tingly secularized can be wittingly resacralized for Christian purposes as the need arises. The pagans of Rome sacralized their meat by offering it to their gods, but the Christians could, in effect, desacralize these meats with a good conscience and, if they wished, resacralize them to their own purpose: "he who eats meat has the Lord in mind when he eats" (Rm 14:6). Again, a game of golf may be just what workers need on their day of secular rest, and present discipline in the church allows them to keep holy the Sabbath and still go golfing. But the new sacralization will be different. There will be a new understanding and a new humility. The sacred will not dictate to the secular in the latter's own sphere. It will be a sacralization through the intention of believers, using the natural end of a nat-ural entity to their religious purpose. They who eat meat have the Lord in mind when they eat; they who golf give thanks alike in the weekly Eucharist and in their outdoor exercise. A final point brings us back to larger issues: sacralization will not be merely extrinsic to the natural world. On this question Septentber-October 1999 Crowe ¯ The "WorM"from Anthony of Egypt to Vatican II Marie Dominique Chenu Op has some helpful remarks. He sees a purer presence of the church in the world creating a new kind of Christians in the world: missionaries of the gospel, and not the protectors of a civilization that they themselves have organized. The real vocation of lay people will be to show that Christianity does not despise the world, but lifts it up, consecrates it, and ful-fills it. And this new presence will unite intrinsically with the world, will make it a true partner, for the believers will read the signs of the times and through them discern the elements in the world and human history that are, as it were, naturally open to the sacred, offering the possibility of a new praeparatio evangelica. They now look for a spirituality that will integrate their life in a world that has become the main field where they must seek their sanctifica-tion. 12 Religious Life in the Ongoing Dialectic The focus of my attention has been the new path for the church in the world today, along the lines of the Vatican Council II document Gaudium et spes. We must be clear on the church in the new age before venturing to discuss religious life in the new age, for religious are Christian before they are religious; that is the order of the council in its document on the church, Lumen gen-tium.~ 3 But of course that means that the dialectic we have dis-cerned in history will apply also to the features of Christian living that religious have in common with all Christians. In that context we may anticipate the direction that applying the dialectic to religious life should take. We will understand how the religious state began as a "flight" from the "world," and we will realize that, as our conception and knowledge of that world has changed enormously, so also must our notion of flight from it. We have come a long way from St. Anthony of Egypt. I trust, never-theless, that we have not left him behind. With all reverence we may conceive an analogy with a hymn of Thomas Aquinas that the church uses in Holy Week: "The word of God, proceeding forth / Yet leaving not his Father's side." Our task is not to aban-don Anthony, but "proceeding forth" to retain his insight and transpose it into a realization of Vatican II's "church in the mod-ern world" and of religious life as it is to be lived in the coming millennium. Our task is to achieve in our own way the unity of the specific and ~he generic concepts of the world. Review for Religious Religious, then, will retain their vows, and the vows will have the meaning they had for Aquinas, a revocatio ab affectu temporalium, a withdrawal from affection for this world.14 They will have the meaning also that Anthony's flight from the world had for him in his time of secularization. And that meaning will remain even in the most sacred of times. A focus on the transcendent and the escha-tological state will necessarily involve the reevaluation of the world that the saints have always shown: not a contempt for the good of creation, but a love for the better to which the good is open. Correspondingly, there will be far more attention to the positive aspects of the vows. This movement has already begun, but it should undergo an extensive development. Similarly for the pos-itive counterpart of the "flight": contemplation of the divine. The cloistered will redouble attention to their contemplative role, and the active will redouble attention to their role as contemplatives in action. As we follow the dialectic in its future course, we would do well to consider our starting point. The first word in the gospel message is "repent" (Mt 4:17; and see the same in Mk 1:15, but with a preface, "The time has come . . ."). Our examination of conscience in this respect might ask in what degree, if any, we transferred to ourselves as perfection what belongs rather to the realm of the sacred. Medieval theologians argued at length about holiness and the more perfect state. Should the operative word be, not "holy" in the sense of personal virtue, but rather "sacred" in the sense of "consecrated to God"? Notes 1 Bernard Lonergan, Method in Theology (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1994 reprint), p. 87. 2 Lonergan, Method, p. 87. 3 Grace and Freedom: Operative Grace in the Thought of St. Thomas Aquinas (London: Darton, Longman, and Todd, 1971), p. I0. 4 Grace and Freedom, pp. 14-15. s Grace and Freedom, pp. 15-16. 6 Bernard Lonergan, "Gratia Operans: A Study of Speculative Development in the Writings of St. Thomas Aquinas," doctoral disser-tation, Gregorian University, Rome, 1940, pp. 36-37. The preface and introduction, from which the dialectical pattern is taken, were published in Method: Journal of Lonergan Studies 3, no. 2 (October 1985): 9-46. The whole dissertation will he published in volume 1 of the Collected September-October 1999 Crowe ¯ The "World"from Anthony of Egypt to Vatican 11 Works of Bernard Lonergan, soon to appear from University of Toronto Press. This section of my article simply paraphrases Lonergan's position as set forth in that dissertation. 7 The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church, ed. EL. Cross (London: Oxford University Press, 1958), article, "Antony, St., of Egypt." s See, for an example, G.J. Engelhardt, "The De contemptu mundi of Bernardus Morevalensis," Mediaeval Studies 22 (1960): 108-135; 26 (1964): 109-142; 29 (1967): 243-272. On the same topic Robert Bultot published widely in books and periodicals of the 1960s under the title La doctrine du m~pris du monde. 9 The turnaround had an interesting development in the Lutheran idea. Lutheranism "does not consider the call of the pastor any more sacred than the call of each Christian to witness to the lordship of Christ in his life and work. The universal priesthood of believers., makes the vocation of every man a holy calling"; see "Lutheranism" in A Handbook of Christian Theology (Cleveland and New York: World Publishing Company, 1958). Here too there is a valuable insight, namely, the vocation of every Christian, but it is not integrated into the dialectical development on the "world." 10 Bernard Lonergan, Insight: A Study of Human Understanding (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1992), pp. 689, 692. '~ Bernard Lonergan, "Sacralization and Secularization," unpublished MS of a 1974 lecture (originally given 1973), p. 23. My whole article relies heavily on this lecture. ~2 Spirituality in the Secular City (Concilium 19), pp. 114-115. I have paraphrased, with frequent verbatim quotations, two pages of "Desacralization and the Spiritual Life" by Claude J. Geffr~ op. ~3 See chap. 6, §§43-47, on religious, in Lumen gentium, the coun-cil's Dogmatic Constitution on the Church. 14 On "revocatio ab affectu temporalium," see Thomas Aquinas, De perfectione vitae spiritual#, chap. 6. Review for Religious JOEL GIALLANZA "Come Closer. I Am Your Brother": Being and Doing Brotherhood In Genesis, chapter 45, Joseph, one of Jacob's sons, has the delicate task of revealing his identity to his brothers. Having sold him into slavery several years before, they do not recognize him now in this powerful Egyptian official, second only to Pharaoh. In his self-revelation Joseph tells his brothers, "Come closer to me. I am your brother" (Gn 45:4). To be convincing, Joseph has to do more than tell his brothers who he is; he must demonstrate this through his attitudes and actions toward them. If he was truly to be their brother, then he had to do what brothers do. Only then was he gen-uinely recognizable to them. This story has a valuable reminder for religious brothers today. The name by which we identify our-selves in life and in the church reflects a rich and prophetic spirituality. "Brother" is not only a title, it is what we are. Even more, it is what we are called and committed to do among ourselves, among the people, and for the church. Also, it is ever a reality we must become: it cannot be fully and finally accompJished at the time of our religious profession. In my experience of the church and sodety today, several forces outside lay religious life often contribute Joel Giallanza csc wrote for us as recently as our May-June issue. His formation work continues at Charles Andersen Residence; 320 Brahan Boulevard; San Antonio, Texas 78215. Septe~nber-October 1999 brothers Giallanza ¯ "Come Closer. I Am Your Brotber" We need one another to be who we say we are and to do what we say we do by our very vocation. to making brothers unrecognizable, unknown, or unappreciated. One of them is that the church's administration emphasizes-- implicitly and explicitly--the clerical state as normative for min-istry and governance within the church, while brotherhood tends to become invisible or at least peripheral. Another is that in a vari-ety of cultures the term brother is used to designate seminarians and other candidates for presbyteral ordination. From this perspective brotherhood tends to be inter-preted as a transitional stage. These outside forces, how-ever, are not alone in influencing the public perception of brothers. Two internal forces come to mind. Sometimes we define our-selves or allow ourselves to be defined in negative terms, that is, by what we are not: unordained or nonclerical men religious. To go through life with "un" or "non" as the beginning of our self-iden-tity is not a good basis for explaining our vocation. It is even a less good basis for promoting vocations. And sometimes we do not reflect upon sufflciendy and articulate clearly our own identity, including the challenges we face simply because we dare to call ourselves brothers. Being Brother Immediately striking about the term brother is its relational character. It expresses both a specific relationship and a way of being in relationship. For us it assumes that we are willing to enter into relationships with others. It assumes we choose to be involved, not isolated. Though Vita consecrata does not speak extensively about the vocation of brothers in the church, it recognizes four relationships that are to characterize our way of life. These religious are called to be brothers of Christ, deeply united with him, "the firstborn among many brothers" (Rm 8:29); brothers to one another in mutual love and working together in the church in the same service of what is good; brothers to everyone in their witness to Christ's love for all, especially the lowliest, the neediest; brothers for a greater brotherhood in the church (Vita consecrata, §60). Review for Religious I would like to comment on these four relationships and on their prophetic implications. Brothers of the Lord Whatever else we may do, whatever our ministry, the rela-tionship that defines and shapes religious life is our relationship with the Lord. This must be the first and deepest of all our rela-tionships. Jesus says to the disciples, "You are my friends, if you do what I command you . I call you friends because I have made known to you everything I have learned from my Father" On 15:14-15). Our relationship with the Lord, our friendship with God, is rooted in knowing and doing what we have learned from the Lord. To be brothers of the Lord is to know the ways of God and to do what the Lord asks of us. To be brothers of the Lord, we must be people of discernment and people of fidelity. We must probe God's will ever deeper and then faithfully put into action all that we discover. We must be skilled in seeing God in all and in seeing all in God. We thereby proclaim and live the intimate closeness of God to this world, even when global events or personal experi-ences provide no evidence or apparently contrary evidence of such intimacy. Brothers with One Another Everything we say about ourselves and about our life together will not be authentic if we do not live in such a way that our com-mon life is marked by love, mutual care and concern, courtesy, hospitality, and a genuine interdependence. Jesus tells us that we will be recognized as his followers if we love one another (see Jn 13:3 5). Note that Jesus does not say what we would be recognized as, if we did not love one another. Could we become completely invisible, thereby rendering impossible any kind of recognition? To be brothers with one another in a religious community is much more than merely getting along; it must go beyond friendly tolerance. There are two important elements here. First, to be brothers with one anothdr is to recognize and accept that we do not live this way of life alone. We need one another to be who we say we are and to do what we say we do by our very vocation. There must be a mutuality and an interdependence among us by which we September-October 1999 Giallanza ¯ "Come Closer. I Am Your Brother" strengthen and support one another. Second, to be brothers with one another is apostolic. The quality of our life together commu-nicates something about God's presence and activity in our world. In some areas of the world, we may be the only witnesses people see, the only evidenc~ they have that God is alive and active in their lives and in their culture and society. Brothers to the People Our very title brothers excludes distinctions among us. Nationality, culture, ethnic heritage, education, ministry, natural and acquired skills--all these are gifts that are to unite us, not dif-ferences to be made into walls of division among us. So too our presence among the people must communicate without compro-mise that we make no distinctions, that we welcome and are hos-pitable to all people. To be brothers to the people also influences the way we approach ministry, whatever our ministry. Our apostolic activity among the people must be a model and a means of unity for them. We must be skilled in guiding people to work together, to appre-ciate one another's gifts, and to share those gifts with one another for the good of all. Regardless of the specific nature of our min-istry, this task of facilitating union among the people is a primary aspect of our mission and message as brothers in the church and society today. Brothers for the Church There are many unnecessary distinctions in our church today. Among the most dominant are those between women and men, between lay and ordained persons. Our presence and activity in the church must strive to communicate a perspective free of the kinds of distinctions that can and sometimes do deteriorate into divisions. To be brothers for the church is to live and proclaim, in St. Paul's terms, "There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male 6r female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus" (Ga 3:28). We know it was a risk for St. Paul to preach such a message two thousand years ago. In truth, it is still a risk to preach this today precisely because people can and do establish their identity in distinctions. Any message that seeks to Review for Religious remove distinctions tends to disrupt that identity, thereby stimu-lating responses that range from simple admonition to sharp antag-onism. I believe it is part of the mission of brothers in the church today to preach and to live such a message regardless of the con-sequences. Doing What Brothers Do What I have said so far pertains to being brothers, pertains to our basic identity as lay religious in the church and society. To be brothers of the Lord, with one another, to the people, and for the church will have a definite influence on our doing what brothers do. Doing what brothers do is the prophetic dimension of our life as lay religious. In terms of these four basic relationships, what do we do as brothers? Through our relationship to the Lord, we demonstrate the possibility of living the example of Jesus in today's world. Jesus' example of selflessness, of compassion, of service to others is not popular today. We observe the sustained promotion and tenacity of an individualism which condones and constructs self-contained and closed styles of life that do not readily respond to the influence or needs of others. The danger is that Jesus' example could be placed on the shelf of items that are no longer realistic or useful for our world: items that are fine for museums of ancient artifacts, but not really relevant for everyday life in contemporary culture. To do what brothers do is a clear expression of the importance, necessity, and urgency of Jesus' example for today. Through our relationship with one another, we demonstrate the possibility of love and reconciliation. In a world where self-ishness and self-containment become the ways of relating to one another, love and reconciliation become ever more rare. Personal histories, past mistakes, and present weaknesses become conve-nient excuses for not reaching beyond ourselves to love, to for-give, to be reconciled with others. And yet it is only through our humanity--with our histories and mistakes and weaknesses--that we can love one another. To do what brothers do means commit-ting ourselves to love and forgive and reconcile, and to take up whatever means are necessary to live that commitment every day. Through our relationship to the people, we demonstrate the possibility of living in peace and unity. The rich diversity repre-sented in social, political, religious, cultural, and ethnic differ- September-October 1999 Giallanza ¯ "Come Closer. I Am Your Brother" ences is too often used as a basis for creating divisions among peo-ple. And as the barriers supporting those divisions become stronger, mutual destruction appears more effective and efficient than coop-erative dialogue. Conflict, violence, war then become the usual ways of dealing with differences in life. To do what brothers do means making every effort to show that the differences among people are graces and blessings to be celebrated, not burdens and bothers to be shunned. Through our brotherly relationship with the church, we demonstrate the possibility of living and ministering in equality. This equality is not uniformity; there can and must be distinctions among the many necessary ministries within the church. The important and imperative idea here is to help maintain the link between those many ministries and the common good of the Body of Christ. To create and then vindicate situations in which peo-ple are excluded or treated slightingly is not acceptable. Ignoring such situations is also not acceptable. To do what brothers do means pointing out injustices and inconsistencies--in our society, but most especially in our church. We will not be popular for iden-tifying such realities, but to neglect doing so would contradict what we profess to be and to do. The Haunting Question Male lay religious are often confronted with the simple but haunting question "What is a brother?" Brothers themselves, as well as other church ministers, struggle with formulating a satis-factory response. I do not believe that any response, however elo-quent and theologically sound, will ever be satisfactory. Indeed, it cannot be. If being a brother and doing what brothers do is at heart a matter of relationship, then our identity as brothers will be found in our actions, in our witness and our way of relating to the Lord, to one another, to others, and to the church. Thus, the only worthy answer to "What is a brother?" is simply "Watch us! Watch what we do, how we behave. Observe our love, care, concern, com-passion. Watch us. Then you will see and know what being a brother is." Are we willing to make that response? Will the integrity, consistency, and quality of our lives withstand such close scrutiny? The precedent for this response has been established already. When asked by John the Baptist's disciples, "Are you the one who Review for Religious is to come, or are we to wait for another?" Jesus responds, "Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the leper~ are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them" (Mt 11:3- 5). Jesus' response invites a simple and direct method: observe, then report what you see. Could it be that we work to enhance the eloquence of our language and the soundness of our theology in responding to "What is a brother?" because we hesitate to say "Watch us"? Obviously, to invite close observation is to imply an integrity and a quality of life that are beyond question or com-promise. Writing to the Corinthians, St. Paul is boldly explicit in continuing Jesus' precedent: "Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ" (1 Co 11:1). In fact, no less than seven times does Paul make this recommendation in his correspon-dence with the early Christian commu-nities (see 1 Co 4:16 and 11:1; Ph 3:17 and 4:19; 1 Th 1:6; 2 Th 3:7 and 9). We might wince at the bluntness--almost arrogance--of his recommendation. Nevertheless, the only way to avoid rel-egating Jesus' example to the realm of theoretical ideals is by a practical demonstration of it. Only a living example can accomplish that demonstration effectively. Brothers must live in such a way that we can make this Pauline recommendation with confidence and integrity. If we believe that our God is incarnational, then the example of our own lives must be the first of all our responses to the simple question "What is a brother?" Again, we must ask ourselves about our willingness and ability to make that response. Any other response, whether from an individual religious or froma general chapter, will fall short of the convincing and transforming power inherent in a living example. Being brothers and doing what brothers do involve decisions regarding a belief and a behavior. The belief is that the example of our brotherhood, as a reflection of Jesus' own, is necessary for society and for the church today--and tomorrow. The behavior is our effort to follow Jesus with integri.ty, simplicity, and fidelity. Through our brotherly .relationship with the church, we demonstrate the possibility Of living and ministering in equality. September-October 1999 Giallanza * "Come Closer. I Am Your Brother" This belief and behavior must stem from deliberate decisions, for they will not and cannot come into being by themselves. If they do not find explicit expression in our daily lives and activities, then they do not exist at all. If we cannot invite the world to "Watch us" when we are asked about the identity and meaning of our life as brothers, then we have only words. Such words die in thin air without living exam-ples to certify their truth. Action verifies articulations; witness confirms words. When action and witness are separated from artic-ulations and words, credibility is compromised. To speak and to act, together, must constitute our effort to define who and what we are as religious brothers and, being brothers, what we do. All else is shifting sand. All else contributes to the continued invisibility of religious brothers within the church and society. Being and Doing To be brothers and to do what brothers do are inseparable. We must strive for consistency in our life so that what we per-ceive and profess ourselves to be and what we do become a single reality. Otherwise we compromise the quality of any prophetic presence and activity we would have in the world. To be and to do as brothers of the Lord, we must be men of integrity, firmly rooted in the Lord. To be and to do as brothers with one another, we must be men of communion, who willingly choose the interdependence necessary for a healthy and whole life. To be and to do as brothers to others, we must be men of mis-sion, who love others through compassion and service. To be and to do as brothers for the church, we must be men willing to pro-vide challenge, whose commitment to the church enables us to question its inconsistencies even as we continue to love it. In the Book of Genesis, the challenge confronting Joseph is both to reveal his identity and to witness to the truth of that rev-elation. He begins with a simple invitation, "Come closer to me." He invites closer scrutiny and careful listening, confident that he will be recognized and accepted for who and what he claims to be. We religious brothers, by the very nature of our vocation, must extend the same invitation in all our relationships. The witness of our integrity, our sense of communion and mission, and the chal-lenge we present will confirm or contradict the truth of what we claim to be and profess to do. Vita consecrata says that brothers participate in the "mission of proclaiming the gospel and bearing witness to it with charity in everyday life" (§60). Such proclamation and such witness are responsibilities we bear and services we provide. They are the heart of our invitation to "Watch us"--to "Come closer" and see ¯. "I am your brother." Questions for Personal and Communal Reflection These brief reflections need fi~rther refinement from the particular cultures and contexts in which brothers live and minister around the world today. In fact, the most sound theologies of religious brotherhood today will conte from within those cultures and contexts. Generic theologies of religious life, by attempting to speak to everyone, run the risk of speaking to no one. As we continue to reflect on and discuss various dimensions of our religious life, we must remain ever attentive to the specific culture and context in which we live and minis-ter. The following questions are offered as a starting point for individuals and for communities. For us as brothers of the Lord, what aspects of Jesus' example and teaching are particularly striking and significant, given the heritage of our religious congregation and the particular culture in which we live and minister? As brothers with one another, what do we desire people to see in us through our life together? What do we believe our wimess communicates to people? What evidence do we have to support that belief?. As brothers to the people, what means do we use to foster peace and unity among them? How do our ministries serve towards dialogue and reconciliation? As brothers for the church, what efforts do we or could we make in our local area to emphasize the equality of persons within the church? With what specific challenges does our heritage as a congregation con-front the church? In which aspects of our life are we confident in saying "Come closer"? In which aspects of our life fire we hesitant about saying "Watch us" in response to people's questions about our vocation? What are the principal gifts we bring as brothers to this cultural set-ring? What are the principal social and ecclesial challenges confronting us today as brothers in this cultural setting? What is the most attractive quality about our religious life in this cultural setting? What is least attractive? What means would be effective in the particular culture where we live and minister for educating the people and the church about the voca-tion of brothers? In addition to the witness of our life, what are effective strategies for promoting vocations to religious brotherhood today? Septentber-October 1999 PAUL BEDNARCZYK Religious Brothers: One Vocation Director's Perspective Religious congregations of brothers can no longer ignore the question of new membership. The "vocation crisis" is staring us in the face. We can debate more effective governmen-tal structures, we can plan new mission orientations, and we can write more documents about solidarity with the poor, but, unless new members join our communities, what will it all mean fifty years from now? The membership crunch seems to be hitting home more now than ever. In many dioceses and religious congregations, the vocation question has been moved to the forefront. At their annual national meeting three years ago, the United States bishops agreed on a comprehensive strategy for vocations to the priesthood and reli-gious life. In June 1998 the U.S. bishops' committee on vocations sponsored a national symposium that had an overwhelming atten-dance. In addition, both the men's and women's religious leader-ship conferences--the Conferences of Major Superiors of Men (CMSM), the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR), and the Conference of Major Superiors of Women Religious (CMSWR)--are exploring how leadership corporately can be more active in promoting the priesthood and religious life. For the past thirty-some years, we have quietly and sometimes unconsciously watched more brothers leave our corigregations than Paul Bednarczyk CSC, of his congregation's eastern province, first published this article in Horizon, a journal for vocation directors. His address is Congregation of Holy Cross; 85 Overlook Circle; New Rochelle, New York 10804. Review for Religious enter them. We prayed for vocations, and many communities even maintained their commitment to a full-time vocation director, but few prospects have joined our prenovitiate programs. Although over the years there was a general concern about the lack of new members, still--because numbers of brothers remained in the "work force"--we felt somewhat comfortable regarding our num-bers. These days are now gone. Our congregations are aging, men are retiring, and fewer members remain in full-time ministry. Our younger members continue to be few. We must confront the new-membership question. Much has been written about societal factors that create a cli-mate unfavorable to religious vocations. Family and neighborhood structures are no longer what they once were. We are witnessing changing definitions of family: single-parent homes, blended fam-ilies, children being raised by gay or lesbian couples. In addition, physical, sexual, drug, and alcohol abuse have greatly impacted the trust and stability that families need. Individualism and mate-rialism have consumed our American culture. Authority is looked upon cynically and institutions are considered suspect. Combine that with young people's inability or reluctance to make commit-ments, and religious vocations become an uphill battle. The changing face of the American Catholic and the tension between Catholic teaching and American values also have an impact on the numbers of religious vocations. The rising multi-culturalism of U.S. Catholics challenges us. Many Hispanic peo-ple continue to abandon the Catholic faith of their ancestors for fundamental and evangelical groups. Polls claim that many Catholics believe that the church's teaching on contraception, homosexuality, and premarital sex is outdated. Although young adults in general do not see the difference between clerical and religious celibacy, they will say that celibacy is the primary rea-son why they would not be a priest or a religious. Likewise, given our democratic values, American Catholics must reconcile them-selves with a church that does not function democratically. I believe it important to mention these factors at the outset because, although they are beyond our control, they have an effect on our religious-vocation promotion. In this paper I intend to share my own reflections on why fewer people are choosing to be brothers. Although I belong to the Congregation of Holy Cross, I have shared some of these ideas with brothers in other religious congregations. We are not alone in our struggle. After five years Septentber-October 1999 Bednarczyk ¯ Religious Brothers as vocation director, I offer thoughts I have gleaned from numer-ous vocation talks I have heard and given, from many meetings and discussions withadolescents and young adults, from direct-ing men and women on both personal and group discernment retreats, and from my association with other vocation directors both regionally and nationally. 492 A Question of Visibility We religious brothers are invisible. To put it more precisely, people generally have no clear idea about who or what we are. I say this neither cavalierly nor despairingly, but as simple truth. Part of this is the reality that we are fewer in number. In the United States, according to thd 1998 official Catholic Directory, the number of religious brothers dropped in 1997-98 by 178, resulting in a national total of 6115. Of course, many of these are retired or infirm and therefore no longer engaged in part- or full-time min-istry- and so are even more invisible. Brothers in teaching congregations cannot assume that the freshmen entering our high schools in September know what a religious brother is. Even though some come to us from Catholic grade schools, many have not met a religious brother or sister and know little or nothing about religious life. If they do have a min-imal understanding oic our life, most likely their perceptions have been influenced by what they see in the media, which is often dis-torted, stereotyped, and scandal ridden. Their parents, too, a generation that had greater exposure to religious in classrooms and parishes, have limited understandings of religious life. They may have romanticized notions of who we once were or, on the other hand, may endlessly repeat stories of brothers and sisters maintaining uncompromising discipline and inflicting harsh corporal punishments. In addition, people are con-fused by the polarization of the various religious lifestyles. How do lay people find a balance among various extreme "liberal" and "conservative" positions taken by religious men and women? How do they understand community when the religious they know live in private apartments or are in scattered communities of twos and threes? Although there are justifications for various places on the spectrum, the average persons in the pews just do not understand. I think it safe to say that they are confused, just as we are at times. The question of visibility is more complex than the reality of Review for Relig~o~!s fewer members. It is, I believe, also related to a greater issue in the church. Without a doubt, within the past twenty years our church has become increasingly clerical. At a time when there are fewer and fewer priests, lay religious life is not always promoted in the church as enthusiastically or emphatically as it could be. In litur-gies all of us have heard public prayers for vocations to the priest-hood and privately wondered why we were not also praying for vocations to the religious life. I do not think these omissions are intentional. When I have respectfully asked presiders to include in their future prayers of petition a mention of an increase in candi-dates for religious life as well, I was usually met with sincere apolo-gies and a response such as "To tell you the truth, I didn't even think of it." Such admitted forgetfulness is disarming, but the response remains a telling one. Another reality is that many bishops and priests are "gun shy" of religious men and women. Since many of their dealings with us have been confrontational and neg-ative, it seems they may be choosing to either ignore or avoid us in order to avoid future hostile situa-tions. Likewise, we religious have suffered from our own antago-nisms with the clergy and the hierarchy, and we too may choose to either ignore or avoid them. My point is not to say that we are right and they are wrong, but rather that stereotypes and false generalizations held by either party only lead to further break-downs in communication and in understanding one another's voca-tions in the church. If we assume an "us and them" mentality, we add to the divisiveness that already exists here and there in our church, and it is the church, the people of God, that ultimately suffers from such internal strife. To pin the blame of our invisibility solely on the church would be both unjust and inaccurate. We brothers must own the fact that some of us have chosen to be invisible. In the neighborhoods of some of our communities, I would conjecture that most of the neighbors are unaware that there is a religious community of men living on their block. Instead of participating in the life of our local parish community, some of us have chosen instead to par-ticipate anonymously in a nearby parish that may provide a better liturgy or choir. At a time when many teaching congregations have made concerted and successful efforts at connecting the mission of We religious brothers are invisible. September-October 1999 Bednarczyk ¯ Religious Brotbers their schools with the mission and charism of their community, some brothers choose not to participate in school activities, often to the dismay and wonder of lay colleagues, parents, and alumni. Although reasons for these examples may be acceptable to us, we must realize that such choices promote further invisibility and anonymity, something which we brothers can no longer afford. Without a public presence, our hope for future vocations is dim. The old clich~ has much truth: "Out of sight, out of mind." Not being part of the clerical hierarchy has given us a unique freedom that is comfortable. I heard one brother say about the hierarchy: "It's good that they forget about us--this way they leave us alone!" We come to a religious community not to dis-tance ourselves from the existing tensions or authority in the institutional church, nor to find a supportive haven for our anger against church authority, nor, for that matter, to promote our own church agenda. As consecrated religious we are men of the church and in the church. Our vocation by its very nature calls us to deepen our baptismal commitment and our relationship with the people of God. The faithful see us and look to us for who and what we are: men who through our vows have consecrated ourselves totally to God and to service within the church. They expect us to be integral to the church: when they do not see this, they are surprised and confused. If we are going to welcome men into our communities, I believe that we must all realistically deal with our feelings and beliefs about the church of today--not the church of yesterday or tomorrow, but the church of today in all of its glory and weakness. Generational Differences The majority of us have lived through the social, political, and ecclesial turbulence of the 1960s. We experienced the devastation of political assassinations, the power of the people in working for justice, and the sense of betrayal and shame that resulted from Watergate. We mourned the violence and casualties of the Vietnam War and of the racial wars that were erupting in our city streets. We underwent our own personal and spiritual transformations after the drastic changes set in motion by the Second Vatican Council. Suddenly our equilibrium was shaken. We experienced a shift in values from uniformity to diversity, from authoritarianism to collegiality, from commonality to individuality. Review for Religious We dealt with these dramatic events and changes in a variety of ways. Some simply left religious life. It seems to have been a good decision for some, once they discovered they .may have become brothers for the wrong reasons. On the other hand, oth-ers left and we still wonder why. Regarding these departures we still grieve. And, into the bargain, some of us have stayed. What are our reasons for remaining? After these radical shifts in church, society, and culture, has our dependence upon God and one another deepened, or have we learned instead to place more trust in our own self and in our material security? Have our vows increased our joy and appreciation for life, or have they regretfully only made our life burdensome? Do we face the uncertainty of the future with excitement and hope, or with cynicism and despair? If we are to witness to an attractive lifestyle option, we must answer these questions honestly and reexamine our own commitment to religious life. Unlike many of us who were brought up with the order and constancy of a triumphal church, our young people today have experienced conflicting messages from a church in transition, and they seek, simply, truth. In the face of New Age spirituality and watered-down Christianity, there are those who, in their desire to know more of what it means to be Catholic, resort to tangible, traditionally Catholic symbols. I find it fascinating that Exposition and Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament is making a comeback on college campuses. In the midst of the noise and rush of their aca-demic lives, students appreciate the hour of silence in the pres-ence of Mystery. Similarly, young adults are rediscovering the virtue of Mary, and have found the rosary to be an attractive form of prayer that is identifiably Catholic. Some ofos may be quick to categorize these young people as conservative or wacky, but these are students who volunteer weekly at local soup kitchens and par-ticipate in "alternative" spring breaks with Habitat for Humanity. They are also class officers, athletes, and students on the dean's list. As I have discovered, our younger people defy the neat and tight boxes in which we tend to categorize them. Have our VOWS increased our joy and appreciation for life, or have they regretfully only made our life burdensome? Septentber-October 1999 Bednarczyk ¯ Relig4ous Brothers To live with the ideals, hopes, and dreams of the young is inconvenient and at times even uncomfortable. In my meetings with men who are exploring a vocation, I have found that it is not because of ministry, education, or social-justice convictions that they are drawn to religious life. Our church has evolved to where, if this were their primary desire, they could eas-ily do this in a Catholic institution as laypersons. They are com-ing to us first and foremost for the religious life itself. To live in the secular world as a committed Christian espousing Catholic values is difficult for them. They admit their need for a community of like-minded individuals who could strengthen their love for God and their Catholic convic-tions. They are not looking for just a nice group of people who do good work. They are looking for men who know and can lead them to God and who can give them a sense of hope in a world that has become increasingly pessimistic and destructive. They want to pray together, share their faith, and bring the Good News to people through their ministry. They acknowledge the Eucharist as central to our faith, and they have devotion to it. Since they often come from an unchurched, nontraditional back-ground, they seek structure and definition. From our community perspective, that is quite an order to fill! Some of you who are reading this are probably wincing and saying, "I thought we got away from that years ago!" To put it simply, I believe we find ourselves in the middle of a generation gap. Thirty years ago some brothers retained their habits, sat in their pews, and looked with distaste upon those who wore jeans and colored shirts and prayed on throw pillows. They thought that, for sure, religious life was quickly going down the tubes. The younger brothers, however, challenged the older brothers to renew their zeal for religious life by adapting to a different lifestyle, one that was based more on shared expressions of faith and on more interpersonal, communal living. Likewise, the younger members were taught by the elders to appreciate the tradition of our life and consequently were enriched by their fidelity to their vows in the face of change. Since some of us have lost a younger generation in our con-gregations, we have forgotten what it is like to be challenged by the young. The lively community dynamic that occurs with the mix- Review for Religious ture of generations--the elderly, the middle-aged, the young--does not happen in many of our local communities. As a result, many of us have grown comfortable with one another and in our life together. For the majority of us, the mutual challenges and exchanges that we all remember from our earlier years and that occur naturally between the young and old do not happen anymore. At forty-one years old, I am still considered one of the "young" brothers in my community. I realize that much of my religious life has been lived with men older than myself. Although I am thank-ful for the benefit of their example and wisdom, as I enter my own midlife I realize that I have been deprived of living with the con-tagious energy and enthusiasm of much younger religious. I know that I need at times to be challenged to think in new ways and to experience life differently. Most of us are middle-aged or older. If we are to have a newer generation following us, we must--even if it becomes increasingly more difficult as we age--be open to the renewal of our basic val-ues: prayer, community, and lifestyle. Ironically, those who are considering religious life look for deeper community experiences while some veterans of thirty or forty years say they are tired of the routine and demands in community. How do we bridge this gap? To live with the ideals, hopes, and dreams of the young is incon-venient and at times even uncomfortable, but I know of no other way. Although youthful idealism may need some tempering, we must admit that at least it is refreshing. We have now become the "older" brothers of yesterday, and, like the older ones of thirty years ago, we too are invited to new ways of thinking and being as we look to the next generation in religious life. I do not believe that age has to be a deterring factor. When I hosted discernment retreats for prospective candidates at our retire-ment facility, I would invite three of our elderly brothers to tell their vocation stories. The combined witness of almost two hundred years of faithful religious life is better than any vocation brochure I could ever design! Their authentic fulfillment in Holy Cross and their continuing joy and vitality were always evidence to these interested men that this life can be lived and can be lived well. Our young people look to their elders for inspiration. They hunger for the wisdom that comes from living a prayerful and reflective life with God. If, however, they see stagnation, apathy, and cynicism, they are left disillusioned and wanting. For many of us, our lives as religious have been deeply enriching and grace filled, and yet some September-October 1999 Bednarczyk * ReligiousBrotbers of us are reluctant to share these experiences with each other. We underestimate at times the power of our stories. In many religious congregations it has been the tradition to respond to "the signs of the times" and to the contemporary needs of the church. I maintain that we need to continue this spirit of openness not only to our mission and ministries, but also to our religious lives as well. The Answer Is in the Present I do not claim to have the answers for the future. To be truth-ful, my worry is not for the future, nor is it for the past. It is the present that is my concern. We can only theorize about the future, as we can only reminisce about the past. Such intellectual exer-cises tend to distance us from the responsibility of making neces-sary choices about our lives and our community in the present. In general, given the societal changes and challenges discussed above, some recerit shifts in our culture seem to coalesce with our lives as religious brothers. For example, our society displays a renewed interest in spirituality. Celebrities from Oprah to Madonna have made daily meditation chic again! With the pro-liferation of self-help and support groups for every issue imagin-able, people long for connection and belonging. They desire "to share their story" and to be validated by a group. Corporations are supportive of community service, and some school systems have included service components in their curricula. As a result, volunteerism is at an all-time high. Ironically, many authors are making lots of money with their best-selling books on how to sim-plify one's lifestyle. It would seem that religious brotherhood would somehow fit into this picture. Our life is a wonderful secret that needs to be shared more now than ever before. As religious brothers we bring, I believe, a special gift to the church. Our faith teaches us about a God whose love is uncondi-tional and whose mercy is unlimited. If faithfully and genuinely lived, our vows attest that fulfillment is to be found more in the transcendent than in the transitory. Where division and broken relationships characterize many families and marriages, our com-mitment to community life, despite its inherent struggles, myste-riously witnesses to welcome, order, acceptance, and equality. I have read many books and articles detailing futures for reli-gious life in temporary vowed commitments, lay associate mem- Review for Religious bership, satellite communities, blended communities, and so forth. All of that makes for interesting reading and good discussion, but I return to the question: What about now? How do we live now the vows we professed, however many years ago? Do we do so with the passion, zeal, and love of our early years? I do not believe that the answer to the challenges of our pre-sent situation is as simple as the reconstruction of past external structures. Our lives are much more complex today than they were thirty years ago. No one can deny that our traditional structures served us well, considering the church and spirituality of the time, but it would be naive to expect the former ways to meet our con-temporary needs. We can romanticize about the past, but we know that it is impossible to turn the clock back. I am, however, not convinced--at least in my own congrega-tion- that we are at present compelled to create new models and forms of vowed religious life. We do not need to reinvent the wheel. We need to insure that the wheel we already have is on the right track. Besides, since Vatican II, a number of experimental lay and religious communities have already been formed, imple-menting exciting new models of lifestyle and commitment. How they will fare in the future, only time will tell. I am convinced that as brothers we need to reclaim who and what we are. We are men of the church vowed to a life of poverty, celibacy, and obedience. We commit ourselves to a life of prayer and mission with each other in community. Given today's society and culture, these core values are what make us countercultural. Our vows are meant to be lived joyfully, with hope. This life was meant to be lived in relationship with God and with one another. Our challenging times invite us to probe and to enter more deeply into the essence of our vows and the mysterious grace that comes with this life. I believe in the gift of religious life, and particularly in the gift of religious brotherhood. I want a future for us because I believe the church would b6 lacking without us. Knowing how much I have been enriched by my own vocation to Holy Cross, I desire to share this gift with a new generation of religious. I am sure that the majority of members in our communities desires the same, but to do this requires conversion and a courageous open-ness to the Spirit that speaks to us today--and not yesterday and not tomorrow. [--z~00 September-October 1999 AVIS CLENDENEN II On Promise Making, Leave-Taking, and Becoming journeying It has been sixteen years since I requested and received a dispensation from my religious vows. The following reflection explores--from ethical, psychological, and theological perspectives-- the experience of malting and breaking promises and leaving the vowed religious life. Principally I will be drawing upon the ethical con-siderafions of Sister Margaret Farley RSM, the psycho-logical insights of Dr. Carl Rogers, and the theological depth of Father Karl Rahner SJ. These pages reveal a slice of an experience shared by many--that is, the mak-ing of a religious commitment, living in a vowed reli-gious community for years, developing bonds of trust and friendship, experiencing a crisis of fidelity, discov-ering the personal inability/choice to sustain the orig-inal commitment, and ultimately breaking the commitment and leaving religious life. A suspicion I had as I thought about examining the psychology and theology behind the making and break-ing of promises was that Rogers and Rahner had more than their first names in common. I sensed they shared a fundamental understanding of the human person, the Avis Clendenen PhD, associate professor of religious stud-ies and director of the Pastoral Ministry Institute, teaches pastoral theology and ministry at Saint Xavier University in Chicago, where she can be reached: 3700 West |03rd Street; Chicago, Illinois 60655. Revie~v for Religimts human dilemma, and the graced and flawed human quest of becom-ing whole and free. The following reflection reveals some signif-icant connections between Rogerian psychology and Rahnerian theology and offers a way of viewing the painful process of leave-taking and becoming. The painful and hopeful contours of this all-too-familiar experience can be traversed again in openness to the possibility of deeper revelations about the choices we make that sustain our word of love. Sixteen years from my departure after a thirteen-year commitment gives me perspective and a desire to return and examine the process of making promises, breaking promises, and becoming. In the fall of 1969 at nineteen years of age I entered the Sisters of Mercy. My letter of request to enter was all of two paragraphs composed by a nineteen-year-old touched and transformed, as late teens can be, by the turbulent events of the 1960s: My reason for choosing religious life as my way of life is because this in the only life that makes sense to me, as an individual. I want to express my life as a commitment of love to God and His Church. I am not quite sure why there is an attraction to the Mercy order in particular, but I believe my potential for giving and receiving, of freedom and ful-fillment, lie within this community. By the time I would profess my final vows in 1978, all refer-ences to God in the masculine pronoun were to be stricken from my vocabulary. By 1978 1 would be a graduate of the Jesuit School of Theology, having been the first woman admitted to its master-of- divinity program. Throughout the 1970s I struggled with the weight of a patriarchal church, including the graces and conflicts surrounding the inclusion of women in all ministries of the church. I would, over the expanse of years, come to greater clarity as to my "attraction" to the Sisters of Mercy as women of valor and vision, with a deepening sense of gratitude for the reciprocity of our rela-tionship. The issues of freedom and fulfillment became bemus-ing, and the turbulent times never did seem to abate. At thirty-three years of age, thirteen years after my entrance and less than four years after my final profession, I received a dis-pensation from my vows of poverty, celibacy, and obedience. The following are excerpts from the letter I wrote to the provincial administrator, initiating the formal leave-taking process: To try and summarize all the spiritual and psychological investigations I have done would be an injustice to all that has September-October 1999 Clendenen ¯ On Promise Making, Leave-Taking, and Becoming gone into this decision. To say too little would be an injus-tice to the quality of relationship I have shared as a Sister of Mercy throughout these years. I feel great pain as I accept responsibility for breaking my promises. But it was the pain of remaining in religious community that finally made the decision. I have asked myself again and again about the truth and integrity of the final commitment professed in 1978. That moment expressed the insight and honesty that was available to me; and while only four years ago, it's been a lifetime. In the months I have lived alone, I have read all the journals from my thirteen years as a Sister of Mercy. I saw the patterns of my struggles repeated year upon year. I read and remembered delightful times in community. My loneli-ness lines many pages. Notes from numerous retreats reminded me of my love for God. And, oh, the growing rage at the institutional church as it demeaned me and our efforts for women's voice and body to be celebrated all places, including the altar. I do not believe that in asking for a dispensation from my religious vows I am walking away from the vision of Catherine McAuley, the works of mercy, the body of Christ, or the commitment with feminists to liberate ourselves from the patriarchy. I am stepping away from a vowed relationship among you. I promised to persevere for life. I believe I per-severed until there .was no more life for me. I am so very sorry. I do not look for understanding, I~ut I will always expect compassion for that is why we bear our name. For the compassion that has been shown me and I have shared with you, for the years of service given expres-sion to as a Sister of Mercy, for the treasured moments and persons, I will always be grateful. I remain a believer and a daughter of Catherine McAuley. I hold now with courage and trepidation her legacy, my Bible, and I turn a corner. And trust. To Give One's Word Yale University Professor of Christian Ethics and Sister of Mercy Margaret Farley's tough thinking on the meaning of fidelity and its claim of obligation form an important frame of reference in analyzing whether one has the moral sanction to end a com-mitment. Sister Margaret Farley wrote her book on commitment in the late 1980s, when the permanency of commitments in American marriages teetered at a fifty-percent divorce rate and when "defection" from the priesthood and religious life in the Review for Religious American Catholic Church continued to deplete the ranks of ordained and vowed Catholic ecclesial leaders. For many years I successfully avoided Margaret Farley's 1986 book Personal Commitments: Beginning. Keeping. Changing. Research for this article inevitably led me back to her work and the challenges to think hard about why we give our word in mak-ing commitments, why we are obliged to keep them, and under what circumstances we may be morally released from them. Farley suggests that the rise of the human-potential movement served to shift the goals of many from the challenges of permanent commit-ment, fidelity, and responsibility, toward the increasing warrant of the call for per-sonal growth and self-actualization. It was as if these two venues for being and becoming were mutually exclusive. Those who had previously interpreted their life in terms of a religious vocation began to claim the. need to transfer voca-tion from one locus to another. "It was not always easy to tell whether these were expressions of faithfulness or of irresponsibility and betrayal."' What does it mean to say you make a promise with a sense of its truth and integrity and then years later suggest that your insights and sense of integrity have changed so signifi-cantly as to justify a breaking of the bonds and a release from obli-gation? Is emotional pain and lack of personal fulfillment sufficient cause to be dispensed fr6m the vows professed in an act of freedom, a free action always given into the hands of an uncertain future? As Farley eloquently explains, commitment has to do with the free action of free persons who give their word as part of them-selves. Commitment m~ans to give my word because that word belongs to me and I freely choose to entrust it to another's keep-ing. In a sense, commitment means to share with one or more per-sons claims on my being there in a promised way with and for them. While my word is "given away," paradoxically I still pos-sess it because it is myself. In commitment we freely take on an obligation to do as we have promised. The motivation for the kind of commitment we are discussing here is always love. "By assuming certain frameworks for love, we Is emotional pain and lack of personal fulfillment sufficient cause to be dispensed from the vows professed in an act of freedom, September-October 1999 Clendenen ¯ On Promise Making, Leave-Taking, and Becoming commit ourselves to whatever we understand essentially to con-stitute this framework."2 The profession of religious vows to be lived in the mic

Issue 48.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1989. ; R~,vw:w voR R~:I,~cIous (ISSN 0034-639X) is published hi-monthly at St. Louis University by the Mis-souri Province Eduealional Inslilule of the Society of Jesus; Editorial Office; 3601 Lindell Blvd., Rm. 428; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Second-class postage paid al St. Louis MO. Single copies $3.00. Subscriptions: $12.00 per year; $22.00 for two years. Other countries: for surface mail, add U.S. $5.00 per year; for airmail, add U.S. $20.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: Ri~v~i~w t:oR R~:,ucous; P.O. Box 6070; Dululh, MN 55806. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to R~:v~:w voR R~:,.~(aot;s; P.O. Box 6070; Dululh, MN 55806. David L. Fleming, S.J. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard .A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Editor Associate Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors JulylAugust 1989 Volume 48 Number 4 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to Rv:v~:w voa R~:u{:lot~s; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709-1193. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from R~:v,v:w vo~ R~:uctous; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, M! 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service fl~r the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society fl~r the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. PRISMS . Religious life in no way merits the descriptive word dull. Currently conferences, workshops, and books deal with the theme of "refounding religious life." Another approach looks more towards a "creating of re-ligious life," often with the addition of "for the 21st century." Along with the recent publication of Pope John Paul II's letter to the United States bishops responding to the findings of the 1983 papal commission study of religious life in this country, we find ourselves confronted with various challenges which indicate that religious life remains a valuable concern not only for those who are dedicated to this special form of Chris-tian living, but also for those who support it and are the collaborators and recipients of its service. Religious life takes on its many different forms as a response by those people to God's call to point the way in bridging anew the gap be-tween the lived values of Gospel and culture. Any particular grouping of religious challenge the rest of the Church peoples (including other re-ligious) to a continuing conversion call in one or other aspect of their Christian living. Religious frequently make uncomfortable the govern-ing and teaching authority as well as their own benefactors and friends by their witness and service in those very areas where the Church may b~ slipping into more secular values and ways of acting than gospel val-ues and gospel acting. It is not surprising that religious have been in the forefront of the liberation theology and base-community movement in Latin America. The charism or grac~ which identifies the special call to a particular religious grouping often attracts some kind of participation by both di-ocesan priests and laity. The Third Orders of some of the older religious institutes and the sodalities of some of the more modern apostolic oiders are examples of a long-standing tradition of affiliation. Today there are many more questions about various ways of belonging within the relig-ious grouping--often referred to as "memberships" in the religious fam-ily. Sister Maryanne Stevens, R.S.M., raises some of these issues in her article, "The Shifting Order of Religious Life in Our Church." We are still in the early stages of this new focusing of collaboration in life and in ministry, and there are difficulties and obscurities still to be resolved. We will continue to find it necessary to clarify the identity and responsi-bilities for members dedicated in a specially graced form of life from 481 41~2 / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 other parties with different vocations and yet somehow drawn by grace to a similar model of discipleship. As part of the special spiritual legacy which monastic life, particu-larly in its more contemplative form, has been to the Church, this spe-cial form of religious life may have its own contribution to offer in terms of ecumenical efforts. Fr. Basil Pennington, O.C.S.O., opens up some possible ways of considering this question in his article, "Monasticism: A Place of Deeper Unity~" The AIDS crisis predictably draws forth a religious life response since it presents a special need calling for a gospel ministry. Robert Sirico, C.S.P., calls us to reflect upon our own reactions of fear and stigma concerning those with AIDS .within our own religio.us groupings as well as those AIDS patients whom we intend to serve. The issue of confidentiality is a particularly sensitive point both in our religious com-munity life and in our ministry. His article, "An Improbable Fiction?: Religious Life Confronts the AIDS Crisis," was originally printed in the October 1988 In-formation, the bulletin of the Religious Formation Con-ference. Re!igious life, with all its graced attempts to respon~l to gaps between the Gospel and culture, today finds itself, along with the wider Church and with the contemporary world, caught in the gap itself. As a result, the questions and issues will necessarily have only tentative and at-tempted responses while the Church and our world remain in this in-between time. Reflecting this kind of ongoing response, in FORUM we publish two recent letters from Father Stephen Tutas, S.Mo, president of the Conference of Major Superiors of Men, to its members. All of us continue to need prisms through which we might more quickly catch the movements and fleeting images of God's grace alive in our everyday religious life world. Each time we come to see a new aspect or see in new ways, we face the personal challenge of reinte-grating the truth of our lives, our relationships, and our work. May some of our writers in the articles in this issue be those prisms for us. David L. Fleming, S.J. Reproducing the Pattern of His Death John McKinnon, S.T.D. Father John McKinnon is a priest of the Diocese of Ballarat in Victoria, Australia where he is currently the Vicar for Religious. He works extensively with the various Ministry to Priests Programs and has played a pioneering role in the development of lay spirituality in Australia. His address is the Center for Human Development; 24 Custance St.; Farrer, A.C.T. 2607; Australia. ]n speaking about spirituality, I think that we Often tend to focus immedi-ately on the various ways by which we may seek to foster it--prayer, reflective ministry, and so forth--rather than on what it is we are seek-ing. Spirituality to me speaks of the way we look at life and respond to it. It is the assessment and response that we draw from the level of our own spirit, from that inner point of our self, that is closest to God. It is made up of the values, beliefs, convictions, insights, and so forth, ab-sorbed and developed over the years, which enable us to give meaning and pattern to the myriad experiences of life, and on which we base our deliberate choices. Basic Attitudes for Christian Spirituality For us as Christians these values, beliefs, convictions, and so forth are powerfully affected by our faith in tl~e person of Jesus and our'con-tact with him. This faith in Jesus and contact with him need to be per-sonalized and deepened through time spent intimately with him in prayer. The truth of any person is leai'nt most deeply only by opening to that per-son in love. Friendship is built on time spent together; it is expressed and nourished in devoted action. And it seems to me that both are equally indispensable. In his Epistle to the Philippians, in a very intimate and personally revealing passage, Paul writes about himself: 483 tlS~l / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 All I want is to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and to share his sufferings by reproducing the pattern of his death. In this way I can hope to take my place in the resurrection of the dead (Ph 3:10- ~). In writing this he was merely outlining his own response to the invi-tation of Jesus, recorded in Mark's gospel: "If anyone wants to be a fol-lower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross and fol-low me" (Mk 8:34). Paul wanted to follow Jesus into the triumph of his resurrection, but he clearly realized that following Jesus meant firstly shar-ing his sufferings by reproducing the pattern of his death. The motivation for Paul's choice to follow Jesus was based on his knowledge of Jesus. Knowledge. in the Hebrew mind was not an aca-demic "knowledge about," but an enfleshed knowledge made possible only by love. I would think that only in this "love-knowledge" rela-tionship could any of us find the inspiration to face life as Jesus faced death, and to run the risk of "losing our life in order to find it," sus-tained only by trust in Jesus and the subtle intuition that in that way we might in fact find our life and live it to the full. Paul's comment in Philippians 3:10-11 seems to sum up for me the essential features of any disciple's looking at life and responding to it. It sums up the authentic Christian spirituality. Indeed, the pattern of Je-sus' death reveals the deepest dimensions of Jesus' own spirituality. I presume that Paul was not a masochist, and that Jesus was not in-viting his disciples to suicide. Jesus loved life. There is a sense in which we can say that in his moments of dying Jesus was never more truly alive and, indeed, living life to the full, at a depth and with an intensity that he had never had to muster before. The conclusion drawn by the centu-rion in Mark's gospel, who had known Jesus only in his dying moments, is also very revealing. Mark writes: The centurion, who was standing in front of him, had seen how he had died, and he said, 'In truth this man was a son of God'(Mk 15:39). In wanting to reproduce the pattern of Jesus' death, Paul was paradoxi-cally expressing his own desire to live life to the full. The Source of Salvation The Epistle to the Hebrews (5:9) says that Jesus "became for all who obey him the source of eternal salvation." We open ourselves to salvation as we in turn obey Jesus, as we attune our hearts to his, and through his to the Father's. It becomes ours, therefore, as we plumb the Reproducing the Pattern of His Death truth, as we accept the dignity and worth of every other human person, and as we commit ourselves to that dignity totally. That is why St. Paul dan write in his Epistle to the Philippians that he wants "to reproduce the pattern of Jesus' death." He sees that sim-ply as the way to become fully alive, and eventually "to take his place (with Jesus) in the resurrection from the dead." To obey Jesus and to find salvation mean to reproduce the pattern of his death, or, as the gos-pels put it, to take up our cross and to'follow him. What does this involve, then, for us? It means that we commit ourselves, too, to the vision and the priori-ties of Jesus; that, like Jesus, we let life touch us; that we respond to these temptations in the same way that Jesus responded to his. Our spiri-tuality is to be modeled on the spirituality of Jesus, on his values, be-liefs, and resources. Sharing His Sufferings No one can,be protected from the vicissitudes .of life. We do, how-ever, have some control over the nature of the inner suffering consequent upon these vicissitudes. In the face of the evil of the world we can choose our response. W.e can choose the inner suffering of absurdity and despair, of the sterile meaninglessness of a world without God, of the superficial and unsatisfying logic of the short-term, of the poisoning and paralyzing choice of bitterness and the refusal to forgive. We can face life with no hope and look on everyone as beyond redemption and on the world as condemned to an unchanging sameness. The other alternative is to taste the suffering involved in living the consequences of our own integrity with its seeming powerlessness; the feelings of irrelevance and nonserise involved in trusting a God who, we believe, makes sense of the meaningless sometimes only in the long-term; the dying-to-self ,involved in forgiving and the price of the perse-verance involved in pouring oneself out for others, trusting against hope that they may one day change and be converted. When St. Paul prayed to share the sufferings of Jesus, he was pray-ing that his sufferings would be those involved in the second alternative. Those were the sufferings of the dying Jesus. Those sufferings were the way to life. Context of Commitment It is the context of our life that gives flesh to the living out of our spirituality. I would like briefly to allude to a few consequences of this 4~16 / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 spirituality of Christ as it touches the lives of all involved in active min-istry, priests, religious and laity. To some extent we can shield ourselves from the difficulties of life by choosing not to love. That, however, would be to betray our call to discipleship. The source of Jesus' experience of failure was his commit-ment to love. Luke makes this point quite clearly in his final prelude to the public life of Jesus, the meeting at Nazareth of Jesus and his fellow townspeople. There Jesus declared his manifesto in the words of Isaiah: The spirit of the Lord has been giv~en to me, for he has anointed me. He has sent me to bring the good news to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives, and to the blind new sight, to set the downtrodden free, to proclaim the Lord's year of favor (Lk 4:18); and it was there that he was violently rejected by the former companions of his childhood. The starting point of our imitation of Christ is a~commitment to depth in ourselves and to share with others the wonderful good news of God's love for all, and consequently to allow our own liberation to grow, to share in the liberation of others, and to work together for justice and free-dom for them. The Call 1. Being Authentic The choice to be authentic means firstly that, like Jesus, we accept and respect both the wonderful dignity of our human nature and at the same time its limitations. It means that we accept the' fact that to be human is to grow. To re-fuse to grqw is to be untrue to the thirst for life and fullness imprinted on our nature by our creating Father. But growth is painful. It is some-times easier to refuse to grow and to change, to opt instead for the fa-miliar and the unchallenging, even to obstruct and to attack change both in ourselves and in the institutions that we make up. Integrity means that we make peace with gradualness and that we re-spect the laws of sequential growth in ourselves and in others. It means that we accept the need for performance and ambition in the establish-ing of our own sense of identity, and it equally means that we be pre-pared to relinquish in time our reliance on performance in order to sur- Reproducing the Pattern of His Death / 487 render to the risk of intimacy, of forgiveness, and of grace. Eventually it means that we move to the even broader task of universal love and of generativity. Each of these transitions can be painful, and the tempta-tions to stay as we are, to secure our own comfort and peace, are strong. We do so, however, at the price of our integrity and the call of our cre-ating and redeeming God who sent. Jesus that we might live life to the full. Being authentically human means that we need to make peace even with our weakness. We have some strengths, but we do not have them all. What we admire in others is often beyond our own reach, and vice versa. We cannot do everything. None of us is "superman." We live, for example, in a day that has only twenty-four hours and not twenty-eight. We are not called to do whatever is good, but to discern what God is asking of us, to do no more than that, and to surrender the rest. Jesus had to choose between consolidating where he was, or going "to the neighboring country towns, so that I can preach there, too" (Mk 1:38)-- he could not do both. With time the very process of aging brings us in touch With new weakness and limitation. Eventually we have to make peace even with our sin. At the price of our sense of self-reliance we have to surrender to the need for forgive-ness and of mercy. In doing so we find our true dignity, and learn to re-spect ourselves because we are loved by God. A further consequence of the choice for discipleship is that we com-mit ourselves to follow our own duly informed and educated conscience. Jesus allowed himself to be led by the Spirit. It is so easy to avoid fac-ing truth and its .consequences and to persuade ourselves that what we are really doing from fear of the opinion of others or from a concern for our own comfort is being done for the sake of pastoral flexibility or main-taining peace or some other equally inadequate.excuse. And yet, at the same time, we also have to recognize that often we are not sure what our conscience is asking of us, and we have to live in uncertainty. Basically the commitment we make to ministry is a commitment to love. We know that love is the only kind of power that can ultimately give life and bring freedom. The commitment to love immediately rules out the possibility of using other kinds of power, all other kinds of power, even ostensibly for the good of people. It applies across'the board, within the Church as well as in the broader world outside. It pre-cludes manipulation, coercion, persuasion. It is notoriously ineffective. It raises whole issues of the interrelationship of institution and individ-ual person, because institutions made up of imperfectly converted and 41~1~ / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 motivated people necessarily require some kind ofsanctions. It requires clear perceptions of priorities; and the constant readiness to change and to repent, because our ongoing experience and reflection reveal that we do not consistently discernpriorities clearly and choose appropriately. The commitment to love also involves a commitment to non-violence (which is not the same as non-resistance to evil). It is the un-willingness to counter violence with violence; it is the choice to over-whelm evil with love, rather, than to double it by retaliating. Non-violent resistance sometimes calls for total self-sacrifice; more often it means apparent ineffectiveness. There are plenty of champions of jus-tice who are prepared to seek it~with violence. That was not Jesus' way. His non-violence made him unpopular, no. doubt, to the Zealots, the "ur-ban guerillas" of his day; it makes his followers equally unpopular in our day. It is~also ineffective. It ensured the inevitability of Jesus' arrest when he was apprehended in Gethsemane, but also elicited his strict cen-sure there of the violent response of one of his followers (Mt 26:52-54). It makes sense only in a world where God is the basis of meaning. It means that we may have to leave free, to go their own way, even to walk into disaster, those whom we love or for whom we have respon-sibility. That was the experience of Jesus. He had to let his ow.n special friends, hi's own diSciples, walk unheedingly into unfaith. He could not, and would not ev.en if he could, live their lives for them. He could not, would not, make their decisions for them. He had to let them_, grow up. Handing them over into the loving hands of his Father did not help all that much. He had learnt the requirements of love precisely from that same Father. As far as the Gospels are concerned, Judas did not come back. On the other hand, the Peter whom he had to leave to walk into utter perplexity and loss of faith did grow up and was a wiser and greater man. We follow the same paths as Jesus. The choice to love makes us notoriously vulnerable. Where our way of life is one that involves our working closely with others, an option for love may mean at times all the pain and frustration of working for consensus. The democratic vote can sometimes simply mean the coercive imposition on the minority of the will of the major-ity. At times it may be appropriate. Often it is not. An honest commit-ment to consensus will mean for many the readiness to devote the time and effort needed to develop the necessary skills of listening, assertion, and negotiation. We need to face the temptation to ineffectiveness, at times even to irrelevance, the jibes of naivete and so forth, and, like Jesus, explore the Reproducing the Pattern of His Death depth of our own authenticity, listen to his heart and to the heart of our creating Father. We need to listen to our own hearts, and somehow trust that integrity, truth, and love make sense, the only sense, and that our God is a God of the long-term, and not of efficient and immediate re-sults. 2. Forgiving We are familiar with the temptations to bitterness and to unforgi-veness. Not only is our world polarized; in some ways, too, our Church is also. Forgiveness is a decision. It is a decision that has consequences. When we decide to forgive, we surrender our right to use the memory of the wrongs again, either for our own self-pity or to store up and accu-mulate them in order to attack again whoever has hurt us. In a situation of ongoing disagreement or.difference, forgiveness in-volves a commitment to seek whatever common ground there is and to work for reconciliation and even at times for consensus. It involves the need to move beyond the words or the positions we may have adopted to listen to our own hearts and to the hearts of those with whom we dis-agree. It is a consequence of choosing the spirituality of Jesus. It leads to life and to peace, but it has its price. ~Forgiveness can seem like the surrender of our own dignity and self-respect, or of our loyalty to our friends and respect for them. 3. Committed . Perhaps our greatest temptation is to lose hope in people. We get hurt through life. We lose o~ur enthusiasm, even our courage. We try some things and our efforts are rejected. We know the temptation to cut our losses: we do our job; we do what is expected of us. But we lose our com-mitment, and we do little or no more than seems necessary. It is difficult to keep pouring out our lives, to keep working enthusi-astically or to try to introduce innovations only to be met with little or no response. It is easier to settle down, to look after ourselves, to make life comfortable to lose hope. But to lose hope is tochoose against life. Jesus faced blankness, in-difference, rejection, mockery, and blasphemy. In the face of that he chose to pour out his life "for the many." He knew the temptation, but he also listened to his own depths and to the heart of his Father. He died still hoping against hope in people. And for many his hope and his com-mitment bore fruit. There is in the depths of every human person an open-ing towards truth and a connaturality with love. Jesus believed that. He saw it in himself. He wanted to set it free in everyone. He would never 490/Review for Religious, July-August 1989 give up hope in people's changing and being converted; he would go to death for the sake of that hope. A truly Christ-based spirituality calls for a commitment in 'hope to people. The Outcome Our active ministry and lifestyle, therefore, whether we be priests, religious or laity, present us with infinitely nuanced temptations tO,work other than in love--to compi:omise and to find our way around our con-sciences, to choose :power in one or other of its many forms, to lose pa-tience with the apparent ineffectiveness of non-violence and love, to avoid the risk of intimacy and to settle instead for subst.itutes. We lose confidence in our God who gives meaning, sometimes too late and only beyond the grave, to our striving, for integrity and authenticity, and we prefer more tangible results and accountable successes, even at the price of what we know we are really called to be. We know we can give lip- ~service to forgiveness but not have the energy.to follow up its conse-quences. We feel the enticing attraction to settle down, to make life com-fortable, to. be "realistic." It is by facing these temptations, recognizing them and naming them, and then by choosing instead to be authentic, to trust, to forgive, and to hope that we work out our salvation and come to savor that life in abun-dance that Jesus wishes to share with us. As we respond to life as Jesus did, we know his peace and his joy, and we get in touch with the "blessedness" he spoke about in the be-atitudes. There is ai~ irrepressible quality to these experiences. We do not have to force 6urseives to find them. They come of themselves. They do not depend on circumstances beyond our control, and require no "fly-ing- carpet" ride through life. Like Jesus who could thank his Father even on the night he was betrayed, like Paul who could write: ". as the sufferings of Christ overflow to us, so, through Christ, does our conso-lation overflow" (2 Co 1:5), we, too, find the unexpected presence and power of peace and joy within us. Even in the very moments of our "re-producing the pattern of his death," we "know Christ and the power of his resurrection" (Ph 3: 10). It might seem to be paradox, but our ex-perience knows it to be truth. The victory that Jesus has won over evil, and in Which we share, is not a victory in which everything has been done already for us. The vic-tory won for us by Jesus means that we now have within us the resources to face whatever comes and to. triumph in love. It is a victory in which we actively participate, and through-which, precisely by our own par- Reproducing the Pattern of His Death / 491 ticipation, we ourselves become more fully alive and more authentically human. No one can do that for us, not even Jesus. But he does do it with us as we allow his Spirit scope to breathe within us. Mission to the World A~ccording tO John's gospel, on the night of his resurrection Jesus ap-peared,~ to his disciples and commissioned them to do what he had done: As the Father sent me, so I am sending you (Jn 20:21). Jesus had been sent to engage with evil and to overwhelm it with truth ~r~ love. He showed the way to us. The Epistle to the Hebrews writes: As it was his purpose to bring a great many of his sons into glory, it was appropriate that God . . . should make perfect, through suffering, the leader who would take them to their salvation (Heb 2: 10). The same Epistle consequently recommends: Let us not lose sight of Jesus, who leads us in our faith and brings it t6 perf6ction (Heb 12:2i. We follow the path that Jesus has trodden. He has commissioned us to show the same way, to others. That is our mission: we show the way, and we show it by living it ourselves. We cannot live the lives of others for them, any more than Jesus could live ours. But we can show them and, by our love, we can empower them, as Jesus has done with us. Though we might all feel embarrassed to say so, really our mission to others must be summed up in the words of St. Paul, "My brothers, be united in following my rule of life" (Ph 3:i7), or, more succinctly, "Take me for your model, as I take Christ" (1 Co I1:1). Like Peter we would all like to follow in the footsteps of a popularly acclaimed and universally accepted Christ. But there is no such Christ. Like the two sons of Zebedee, we would like to share in a victory where struggle is not necessary. But there is no such victory. Jesus has won the victory, but it was won on the wood of the cross. We share in his vic-tory, but we do it as we drink his cup and are baptized with his baptism (see Mk 10:35-40). As with the mission of Jesus, so, too, then, with our own: the suc-cess of our ministry will be counted not by the numbers of those who may listen to us or cooperated in our projects but in the ones who are encouraged by our example and empowered by our love to engage with the evil in their own breasts and meet it in love. It will be found in those 492 / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 who allow the failures of their lives and of their relationships and the .fail-ure of their projects to touch them, and who feel the consequences of those failures, but choose, whether wearily or resolutely, to continue to reach out lovingly in trust, in forgiveness, and in hope. Jesus' message really is one of love, of peace, ofjgy, and of happi-ness- but not as the world understands and gives them. His message is one of victory, but of victory through the Cross, even for his followers. They have to engage with life and they have to let life touch them. It will hurt, not because God wants it that way, but because of the sin of the world and the mutual destructiveness in which it takes shape. This sin of the world can be overwhelmed. Jesus has made it possible. But where it touches people, there people have to engage with it. Conclusion A truly Christian spirituality is one that responds to life as Jesus did. That is the only Christian spirituality. "All I want is to know Christ, and the power of his resurrection, and to share his suffering by repro-ducing the pattern of his death. In this way I can hope to take my place in the resurrection of the dead." As we treasure our experience and pon-der it in our hearts, as Mary did, I believe that our pondering can fruit-fully be done only by relating it to the pattern of his death. Other values and~insights will modify many forms of this basic Chris-tian spirituality; various lifestyles will determine the concrete shapes that it takes; and wisdom and experience will dictatehow best to ponder and to get in touch with those spiritual depths of Jesus. But all must be based firmly on him or they will fall short of salvation. And he wants so much that we share hig experience of life and taste that life "to the full!" Work and Leisure: Our Judeo- Christian Foundations Melannie. Svoboda, S.N.D. Sister Melannie Svoboda, S.N.D., is currently dividing her time between teaching and writing. She recently completed six years as novice director. Her address is Notre Dame Academy; Route one, Box 197; Middleburg, Virginia 22117. Recently I was asked to give a workshop on leisure and spirituality. As part of my research, I looked in the Reader's Guide to Catholic Periodi-cals to see what already had been written on the topic within the past few years. When I looked up the word leisure I was surprised to find very few articles listed under it, but I noticed, there were many articles under Lent. I looked up the word play and found even fewer articles under play, but there were many under Plato, and planned parenthood. Next I tried the word celebration. I found several articles under celebration but many more under celibacy, cemeteries, and censorship. Finally, I looked up the word fun. I found no :articles under fun, but plenty under fund raising, fundamentalism,, and funerals. This experience made me realize how little has been written on the topic of leisure and other related topics which, I feel, are fundamental to our Christian faith. This article will discuss the Judeo-Christian un-derstanding of leisure. It will begin with an exploration of the biblical understanding of the nature of work. Then it will look at the tradition of the Sabbath, the great 'leisure day,' and show how a balancing of work and leisure is essential to a healthy Christian spirituality. Let us turn first to the book of Genesis. What does Genesis tell us about work? It tells us many things. First, it says something extremely significant: God works. This concept of, a working God was something of an oddity among the peoples of that time period. Many other civiliza- 493 494 / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 tions envisioned their gods as beings who did not work. Their gods lei-surely romped around on mountain tops or lay around sleeping all day. But the Hebrews, based on their unique experience of God, saw their God differently. At the beginning of Genesis they posted a large orange sign with big black letters on it: Go~)AT WORK. But Genesis tells us something even more revelatory than the fact that God works. It tells us why God works. He works not because he has to work; he works because he wants to work. His work, creation, is not for his sake; his work is for others' sake, for humankind's sake, for our sake. In Genesis, God chooses to work because he chooses to share some-thing of himself with someone else. So already in the opening pages of Scripture, work is seen as being intimately associated with the act of self-giving-- a self-giving for the benefit of others. A third thing we notice in the creation narrative is how God works. He seems to enjoy it! God is not portrayed as someone who hates his job or finds it mere drudgery. We do not see God complaining, for exam-ple, at the beginning of the fourth day, "Darn it! Today l've got to make those stupid birds! I'll never get them to fly--I just know it!" On the con-trary, God takes delight in the work process, pronouncing creation, the product of his labors, as "good" at the end of each day. In Genesis, we also notice that leisure or rest is an integral part of the work process. God rests not merely on the last day; he rests, he takes "time off," between each day of creation. The ending of each day brings closure to that particular day's activity. The seventh day, the Sab-bath, is just a longer rest period--an entire day of complete rest. But throughout his work, God has been taking other rests--"mini-Sab-baths"-- all along, Rest or leisure is part and parcel of the work proc-ess. Leisure, like work, must be good if God himself does it. In the creation account, Adam, like God, works. "The Lord then took the man and settled him in the garden of Eden, to cultivate and care for it" (Gn 2:15). Work is not a punishment for Adam's sin. It is one of the ways Adam is made in the image of God, A working God means a working Adam. Adam's work is a sharing in the creative activity of God. Adam's work, like God's work, consists primarily in cultivation and care. But something happens to work after the Fal!: Adam sweats and Eve had labor pains. Genesis 'seems to be saying that after their act of dis-obedience, Adam and Eve suffered some serious consequences. All work--whether bringing forth new I.ife through farming or giving birth-- would now necessarily involve fatigue, frustration, and pain. Work and Leisure / 495 In summary, then, Genesis presents some fundamental attitudes to-ward work. Work is .good--even God works. Work is an act of self-giving directed toward the good of others. It consists primarily in culti-vation and care, in the bringing forth of new life. Work should basically be a joyful activity even though it often entails fatigue and pain. Rest or leisure is good, too. It is somehow integral to the work process. Altfiough Genesis beautifully describes work and leisure, it is in Exo-dus and Deuteronomy that we learn more precisely where leisure comes from and, more importantly, what leisure is for. For the Israelites, the concept of leisure is identified with the tradi-tion of the Sabbath. This tradition is expressed explicitly in the fourth commandment: "Remember to keep holy the Sabbath Day" (Ex 20:8). The key phrase in that commandment is "keep hol~,." What exactly does "keep holy" mean? The remainder of that commandment explains what it means: "Six days you may labor and do all your work,, but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord, your God" (Ex 20:9-10). The implication is that to "keep holy" means "not t.o work." But wl~y were the Israelites directed not to work on the Sabbath? The reason is found in Deuteronomy's version of the fourth command-ment. This version adds the following: Remember that you were a servant in the land of Egypt and that the Lord your God brought you out from there with a mighty hand and out-stretched arm; because of this, the Lord God has commanded you to keep the Sabbath (Dt 5:15). The reason for not working is found in the words "because of this." What does the "this" refer to? It refers to the exodus--the great work of Yahweh. In other words, the Israelites were directed not to work on the Sabbath in order to take time to remember their deliverance from bond-age in Egypt by a powerful yet loving God. In his book, Confessions of a Workaholic, Wayne Oates says that the chief motive for keeping the Sabbath was gratitude to God. It is not fear of God, nor the need to hew the line of ritualistic practice. Rather it is the motive of gratitude for deliverance from slavery, grati-tude for the gift ~f freedom. ~ But the Israelites were to do more than to set aside a day on which to thank God for their freedom--as important as that is. They were to express their gratitude to God by the way they used their precious gift of freedom during all the days of the week. Just as God had used his free-dom to free the Israelites from slavery, so, too, were they to use their 496 / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 freedom to free others from slavery--the slavery of ignorance, poverty, hunger, ill health, fear, old age or whatever form that slavery took. In his book, Flowers in the Desert, Demetrius Dumm, O.S.B., has written a beautiful section on the Ten Commandments. His treatment of the fourth commandment is especially relevant here. He sees the fourth commandment as a "transitional commandment"--one that comes af-ter the three commandments that are concerned with the Israelites' rela-tionship with God and one that comes before those six which govern the Israelites' relationship~with each other. The first three commandments called the Israelites to affirm the mystery of God, writes Dumm. They called the Israelites to trust in God's basic goodness, to see him not only .as powerful but as loving. The last six commandments direct the Israel-ites to affirm that same divine mystery present in every human being by the fact that he or she is created by God. Durum writes: Every creature deserves, therefore, to be respected because of its share of divine mystery. One of the most powerful tendencies of man is to eliminate mystery in his life because it cannot be controlled and thus seems threatening to him. The most natural way for man to control the mystery in :creation is through his labor. The Sabbath commandment or-ders the Israelite to interrupt his labor every seventh day as a reminder that that labor is intended by God to release the mystery in life and not crush it.2 What does all of this have to do with me personally and with my Christian faith? Maybe we can answer that question by taking a few "lei-sure moments" to reflect on these questions. What is my. attitude toward my work? Do I see it as a way of self-giving for the benefit of others, or do I view it as a drudgery or, worse yet, asia punishment? Is my work a way of earning God's love, or is it an expression of gratitude for God who loves me already? Is my work a way of serving others, or has it become my sole means of earning the esteem and respect of others? How is my work helping to free others from slavery--no matter what form that slavery might be? In my work, do I respect the divine mystery in creation and people, or is my work an attempt to control or manipulate creation and people? Have I become a slave to my work, or am I free to let go of it at times? Can I, for example, freely walk away from my work when lei-sure calls me to praye~, to relaxation, or to sleep? Have I learned the art of bringing each day.to a close, entrusting the fruits of my labor to the Lord? Do I set aside regular.time for leisure--for "mini-Sabbaths" and for longer ones? Do I use this "wasted time" to remember God's deliv- Work and Leisure / 497 erance.of me from sin, to reflect on his goodness to me, and to thank and praise him for his power and love? Can I just be with God or must I always be doing for him? Do I find the Lord both in my work and in my leisure? Do I take time to be with others, to enjoy their company, to play with them, to appreci-ate the divine mystery present in them? Or is the only time I am with others when I am working with them or for them? In conclusion, then, we have seen how a healthy balancing of work and leisure is essential for our Christian faith. In his article, "The Spiri-tual Value of Leisure," Leonard Doohan explains how work and leisure manifest our faith in God. Unlike those who profess some religions, we claim to believe that God is near to us, in us, in others, in the wonders of the world. Only in lei-sure dowe prove this belief by giving time to developing attitudes nec-essary to meet him. We also believe we can experience God personally and in community, but does our faith show this to others in the life we live? Are we "working" tourists who look at everything and see noth-ing, or do we pause, appreciate, wonder, and praise God who, we be-lieve, reveals himself in creation? It is not by work that we earn salva-tion, but in leisure that we appreciate that it is gift. Leisure is the cor-rective that puts work in perspective and shows forth our faith.3 NOTES ~ Wayne E. Oates, .Confessions of a Workaholic: The Facts about Work Addiction (Nashville: Abingdon, 1971), p. 35. 2 Demetrius Dumm, O.S.B., Flowers in the Desert: A Spirituality of the Bible (New York: Paulist, 1987), pp. 14-15. 3 Leonard Do6han, "The Spiritual Value of Leisure," Spirituality Today, 31 (June 1979), p. 164, Positive Wellness: Horizon for Religious Experience Jerome A. Cusumano, S.J. Father Jerry Cusumano, S.J., is a member of the Japanese Province of the Society of Jesus. He is currently engaged in studies at Arizona State University. His address is B:'ophy College Prep; 4701 N. Central: Phoenix, Arizona 85012. In this article I show how the integrated approach to health as exemplified in the holistic health movement can serve as a vehicle for opening a per-son's consciousness to the religious dimension of life. Since the goal of holistic health is "positive wellness," it is meant for those in good health who wish to achieve even better health, those who, in other words, are no longer focused on the negative problems of health such as giving up smoking, controlling drinking, losing weight, and so on. Holistic health encompasses at least the following four dimeffsions: nu-trition, exercise, awareness, and lifestyle. Since numerous self-help books as well as much scholarly research have more than adequately ex-plicated what is essential to each particular dimension, I do not intend to repeat here what has been better said elsewhere. However, I will briefly summarize what seems to be generally accepted in each area in order to establish a basis for the reflections which follow. 1 will treat the four basic factors in ascending order of importance. Nutrition Quantitatively, one should systematically "under-eat" in such a way as to maintain his body weight at the level it was when physical growth was completed, usually about the age of twenty. Qualitatively, one's diet should be based primarily on whole grains, raw vegetables, and fresh fruit. The diet should be, in yogic terms, sattvic, that is, nei- 498 Positive Wellness / 499 ther making the body sluggish nor stimulating it, but rather leaving it en-ergized and calm at the same time. Since one needs energy for exercise and calmness for awareness, a sattvic diet disposes the body properly for the next two dimensions of holistic health. Exercise Good food will not be adequately assimilated if the blood and oxy-gen circulation of the body are poor; conversely, a body kept in good condition will be healthy even on a poorer diet. Thus exercise is more important than nutrition for positive wellness. One needs to do some form of stretching exercises every day in order to maintain flexibility and alignment in the musculo-skeletal frame. What is gained during exercise times should be maintained at other times by sitting and standing in pos-tures which keep the shoulders and pelvis in line and the back straight. One also needs some form of daily aerobic exercise done for at least twenty minutes a session in order to revitalize and refresh the cardiovas-cular and respiratory systems by increasing the oxygen supply in the blood. The amount of time one devotes to exercise serves as a good gauge of one's desire for positive wellness. Nevertheless, even exercise is of less importance for positive wellness than the next dimension, aware-heSS. Awareness A period of at least twenty minutes a day should be devoted to some method of systematic awareness in the form of relaxation or meditation. The possibilities range over the spectrum from Feldenkrais's body aware-ness exercises or Jacobson's progressive relaxation method done in the prone, position, through the measured movements of Tai Chi done stand, ing and walking, to the one-pointed focusing of zazen or yoga done in the more demanding postures such as the full lotus. ~ Turning one's con-scious powers in on oneself while in slow m6vement and/or remaining still for a good length of time not only revitalizes the conscious mind and relaxes the body, but also provides a place where unconscious material, such as negative emotions, can .surface and be disposed of through aware-ness. While aerobic exercise refreshes one through an expenditure of en-ergy, in awareness one gathers his energy, concentrates it, and so re-charges himself. Furthermore, while it is possible to both eat well and exercise enough, and yet still lead a harried life, this is not possible for one who wishes to practice awareness regularly. The daily period set aside for purposefully quieting both body and mind through awareness presupposes a lifestyle conducive to such an activity. Thus awareness is 500 I Review for Religious, July-August 1989 both the support of and the fruit of an ordered lifestyle which is the fourth and most important dimension for positive wellness. Lifestyle In proportion as a stressful lifestyle has deleterious effects on the physical and psychical organism, so also a relaxed lifestyle is the single most important factor in promoting positive wellness. Such a lifestyle in-cludes a job ohe feels satisfied with and sees as worthwhile, as well as a personal life that has sufficient rest, satisfying human relationships, and some absorbing interests. Requisite to such a lifestyle, however, is a I . clear conception of the purpose of one's life, which serves as an implicit criterion by which one can judge which activities are to be undertaken and which relationsh.ips fostered. With a relaxed lifestyle and a clear pur-pose in life a man may reach a state of positive wellness even though he does not scrupulously follow all the directives with regard to nutri-tion, exercise, and awareness. Actually, a clear grasp of the purpose of one's life gives a meaning to striving for positive wellness. "Maintain-ing good physical and mental health is like preserving two fine instru-ments which can be used to carry out the purpose of life . Thus it is clear that the basis of holistic health lies in one's understanding the purpose of his life and learning how to achieve that purpose."2 Religious Experience The state of positive wellness, achieved and maintained by the inte-grated approach of the holistic health movement as summarized above, can dispose one to be more receptive to the transcendental and religious dimension of life. One becomes accustomed to an habitual state of vigor, energy, and wellness which hecan no longer do without. To use Glas-ser's term, one has developed a positive addiction to health itself. This addiction to positive wellness has its source in the good feelings gener-ated through the "spiritualization" of one's body by the increased vi-tality attained through conscious effort and the "physicalization" of one's mind by the greater calmness achieved through attention to bodily processes. At peak moments this dual action issues into a harmony which Glasser call the PA (positive addiction) state. "In the PA state the mind flows with the body. The two cease completely to be antagonistic to each other and blend into one. The state of positive addiction to health is experienced as a drive from within oneself, but not an instinctual drive such as that for sex, nor as a drive stemming from the force of one's will. One feels that he has tapped into another force which is now pulling him to higher levels of Positive Wellness health. Yoga terminology calls this force the Self as opposed to the self. However, it might just as well be conceived in terms of health itself. The healthier one becomes, the more he makes contact with the body's own innate drive to good health and experiences the power of that drive. He gradually opens his consciousness to the life force within him and allows it to work of itself. The healthier one becomes, the more he can tap into this life force. Paradoxically, this means that one becomes a "spiritual" person not by ignoring the body in the pursuit of higher interest, but rather by infusing the body with spirit, that is, by directing one's consciousness to the health of the body in such a way as to energize it as fully as possible. As a result one becomes a more suitable vehicle to channel the energy of life within himself and to others. "As you continue to develop your channels of energy, you will notice differences in your entire being, and these will likewise be observed by those around you, who also benefit from the increase in energy flow."4 Energizing the body through sustained, systematic daily care of one's health puts one into contact with a Life greater than one's own. It is this Life, more than individual will power, which makes possible the main-tenance of a sane lifestyle and consistent attention to nutrition, exercise, and awareness demanded for positive wellness. For some this may be the first step to recognition of transcendent being. For others it may be a preparation through a new experience of satisfaction from taking respon-sibility for one's life. As Bloomfield says, "There is joy in taking full responsibility for your health and happiness.''5 Children at play, fully alive and vibrant, exemplify the joy he speaks of. Theirs is a joy spring-ing from the flexibility and agility of their bodies as well as from the care-free state of mind in which they live. Paradoxically, Ardell notes, it is only as one grows older that he can fully enjoy youth.6 Conclusion If pursued within the holistic health framework the current quest of many for youthfulness and positive wellness can become the occasion for opening oneself to transcendent and religious experience. For positive wellness makes one aware of the source of Life itself. NOTES ~ M. Feldenkrais, Awareness Through Movement, (New York: Harper and Row, 1972), E. Jacobson, You Must Relax, (London: Unwin Paperbacks, 1980). 2 S. Rama, A Practical Guide to Holistic Health, (Honesdale, Pennsylvania: The 50~. / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 Himalayan Publishers, 1980), p. 13. 3 W. Glasser, Positive Addiction, (New York: Harper and Row, 1976), p. 56. '~ R. Shames, The Gift of Health, (New York: Bantam Books, 1982), p. 140. 5 H. Bloomfield, The Holistic Way to Health and Happiness, (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1978), p. 274. 6 D. Ardell, High Level Wellness, (New York: Bantam Books, 1981), p. 67. Full Circle Morning did come! Rise with the full-day Sun! Work begun. Thy Will be done! Day half-spent, Rest in the noonday Sun! Renewed, refre~shed--run! Day-work, toil done. Daystar, noon, setting Sun. Rest! Be still! Tomorrows come . . . maybe? Glory be! Walter Bunofsky, S.V.D. 1446 E. Warne Avenue St. Louis, Missouri 63107 Striving for Spiritual Maturity: Ideals as Obstacles Wilkie Au, S.J. Father Wilkie Au, S.J., has been working in psychological counseling and spiritual direction. He served for six years as novice director for the Jesuit California Prov-ince. He may be addressed at Loyola Marymount College; Jesuit Community; P.O. Box 45041; Los Angeles, California 90045-0041. The metaphor of a journey captures well what most adults come sooner or later to realize about spiritual and psychological growth: it is a never-ending series of changes and struggles. In a word, it is a hard road to travel. It is tied to the ways we respond to the crises of human life. These crises are both predictable and unpredictable. The predictable ones have been outlined in the literature of deve!opmental psychology, which de-picts the pattern of adult growth, not as an undisturbed straight line, but as a zigzag process often full of setbacks and frustrations. The unpre-dictable crises are easily recognized: sudden illnesses, career disappoint-ments, interpersonal misunderstandings, the loneliness of ruptured rela-tionships, the separation of death or divorce. When faced with the strug-gles that are the inescapable conditions of growth, people frequently ask themselves: "Why go on? Why keep trying, if there is no chance of suc-cess? What difference does it make any way?" The frustrations of seem-ingly endless change--new jobs, new residences, new relationships-- force many to question whether it is worth all the effort. These are nei-ther theoretical nor abstract questions. They emerge from the concrete experience of striving to grow in holiness and wholeness. These quan-daries frame the struggle to love as Jesus commanded. An effective spirituality today must strengthen the individual's com-mitment to the ongoing process of sanctification and maturation. It must 503 ~i04/Review for Religious, July-August 1989 do this by reminding us that God is always close by with divine love and power to help us in our struggles. As followers of the risen Christ, we are called to believe that "the power.by which life is sustained and in-vited toward wholeness is no human creation and abides and remains steadfast even in a world where death does have dominion over every individual." ~ As in other human journeys, we reach the destination of our spiri-tual pilgrimage only gradually. However, there is a paradoxical nature to the spiritual sojourn. While alive, we will never fully reach our goal of union with God and others. Yet, being on the spiritual path is already a way of attaining that end. God is to be enjoyed not only at the end of the search, .but all along the way. The Christmas story of the magi illus-trates this truth. God was present to them not only when they joyfully arrived at the cave in Bethlehem, but also in the original stirrings that sent them off in search of the promised Messiah. God's presence was also experienced in a guiding star that directed them through dark nights and in a dream that warned them of Herod's threat. They experienced God's support, too, in the encouragement they gave each other through-out an uncharted search that took them miles from home. God is more present to us than we think. Our search for union with God is life-long, often a strenuous trek punctuated by dark passages. If we are to persevere, we must take cour-age in God's abiding presence all along the way. Even as we are travel-ing towards God as destiny, Emmanuel is already with us in manifold ways. The disciples of Jesus were once given a dramatic lesson about how Christ is ever-present. One day they were crossing the Lake of Gali-lee when a fierce storm enveloped their little boat. Frightened by vio-lent winds, the apostles were stricken with panic. Suddenly, Jesus ap-peared to them walking on the water. He told them, "It is I. Do not be afraid" (Jn 6:21). Jesus then calmed the storm, and the boat quickly came to shore. The significance of Jesus' words is clear when we look at the original text. The Greek has Jesus saying "ego eimi" which liter-ally means "I am." In the Septuagint, the Greek translation of the Old Testament, the phrase "ego eimi" is used as a surrogate for the divine name (Ex 3:14). It is Yahweh's response to Moses' question, "Who shall I say sent me?" In placing these words in Jesus' mouth, John ex-p~' esses the early Church's belief in the divinity of Christ. The good news affirmed in this Johannine passage is identical to that contained in Mat-thew's story of the magi: God is always with us in our journeys through life. This truth must permeate our consciousness, especially when our Striving for Spiritual Maturity / 505 fragile boat is rocked by waves of worry and troublesome torrents. In our fear and confusion, we need to recognize the presence of the risen Jesus drawing near to us to still the storm. Calm will descend on us when we hear Jesus say, "Do not be afraid. It is I." Letting Go of Flawless Images ~The journey metaphor most accurately reflects reality when it is seen as a zigzag pattern i'ather than as an uninterrupted straight line. Human growth is not a process that moves relentlessly ahead in a single direc-tion. It, rather, is a mixture of progressions and regressions. At times, we experience forward movements; on other occasions, slips indicate re-gress; and sometimes, no matter how much effort we expend, we find ourselves at a standstill, seemingly stuck at a developmental plateau. Is this wrong? To the contrary. Accepting the jerky aspect of growth and relinquishing the illusion of a forever smooth-flowing journey is not only necessary but will bring serenity to our striving for maturity. Failures should not produce despair; temporary plateaus need not trigger paraly-sis. The expectation of a flawless journey is counterproductive because it misrepresents the process of developmenta~l growth. It also distorts the truth of what it means to be a human being. A view of the human person which does not acknowledge that sinfulness casts a shadow on every person is unrealistic. Such a notion can also have harmful effects. Our sinful condition renders us radically weak. In an iron'ic way, not to admit to our weakened capacity leads us to a sense of perversity and guilt rather than worthiness and self-acceptance. The refusal "to recognize the persistent ambiguity and the final impotence of our lives tantalizes us with an optimistic promise of self-evolved be-coming," concli~des theologian LeRoy Aden. It also "stands in danger of giving us a sense of failure and despair to the extent that we do not achieve it. ,.,2 Thus, failure to acknowledge the shadow aspect of human personality, diminishes, not enhances, self-esteem. Aden elaborates on the harmful effects of a naively optimistic view of human development in the context of a critique of Carl Rogers, the father of client-centered therapy and a major influence in the field of pas-toral counseling. Aden objects to a basic hypothesis of client-centered therapy: the belief that persons have within themselves the ongoing ca-pacity to reorganize their lives in the direction of maturity and fulfill-ment if the proper psychological climate is present. Concretely,. this hy-pothesis presupposes that if the counselor communicates empathy, warmth, acceptance, and genuineness, a client wil~ naturally begin to manifest behavior that enhances the true self. According to Aden, "Ro- 506 / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 gers' faith in the individual's ability to choose the good is absolute. He entertains no qualifications. He allows no doubts.In fact, therapists who begin to question the hypothesis and who shift to another mode of inter-action only confuse the client and defeat their own purpose."3 Roger~ clung tenaciously to his belief in the individual's absolute ca-pacity for constructive and enhancing behavior. Aden recounts an inci-dent in Rogers' life in which he nearly destroyed his own psychic health by maintaining at all cost this article of faith. Rogers once dealt with a very disturbed woman who continually demanded more of him--more time, more warmth, more realness. Although he began to doubt his own adequacy and to lose the boundaries between himself and the client, Ro-gers was very reluctant to let go. Finally, when he realized that he was on the edge of a personal breakdown,he swiftly referred the client to a psychiatric colleague and left town for an extended period. He eventu-ally sought therapy to overcome feelings of complete inadequacy as a therapist and deep worthlessness as a person. According to Aden, this "event shows that Rogers would doubt him-self as a therapist and as a person before he would question his basic faith in the individual.''4 Rogers had provided his disturbed client ~,ith un-derstanding and acceptance over an extended period of time. Neverthe-less, she got progressively more dependent and sicker, bordering on psy-chosis. Her behavior explicitly challenged the very foundation of his the-ory. Thus, it was easier for him to doubt his own worth as a clinician than to reexamine the linchpin of his therapeutic creed. Belief in the in-dividual's indomitable capacity for ongoing growth and actualization had to be maintained at all cost. Forgiveness: The End Point of Life Carl Rogers has made many contributions to pastoral counseling, but his trust in the absolute ability of individuals to grow continually toward fulfillment is a harmful assumption for Christians. It contradicts Christi-anity's deepest insight into the human person as radically good, yet bur-dened by sinfulness. This sinful condition impedes our struggle for growth in holiness and maturity~ It often leads to imperfect fulfillment. Unlike the contemporary tendency to absolutize fulfillment as the basic truth and the final goal of human existence, Christian faith reiterates the good news proclaimed by Christ: forgiveness is the endpoint of human life. Thus faulty fulfillment and incomplete development need not worry those who trust in the forgiving love of God. In thelend, we will fully enjoy the unconditional acceptance of God, not because we are flawless, Striving for Spiritual Maturity / 507 but in spite of our imperfections. Our merciful God's gift of forgiveness means that we "cannot and need not measure up to any conditions of worth."5 When forgiveness, and not fulfillment, is seen as the endpoint of our lives, we can live with greater acceptance of our weaknesses and with greater hope in God's power to complete what grace has started. No longer will the ambiguity of our fulfillment judge us, nor the impo-tence of our efforts condemn us. With St. Paul, we are "quite certain that the One who began this good work" in us "will see that it is fin-ished when the Day of Christ Jesus comes" (Ph 1:6). As Aden states beau-tifully., the promise of ultimate forgiveness "allows us to be incomplete and yet complete, estranged and yet related, distorted and yet fulfilled." When our journey reaches its termination, we will be wrapped in God's merciful arms, like the prodigal son. Because "you are forgiven" will be the final words we will hear, we are freed from the compulsive need to actualize perfectly our human potential and are released from the guilt that accompanies falling short of that goal. "Success and failure are accidental," writes one spiritual writer. "The'joy of the Christian is never based on . . . success but on the knowledge that (one's) Redeemer lives."6 Thus, the author encour-ages us to learn to li~,e peacefully to the end of our life with a certain imperfecti6n: The Lord will never ask how successful we were in overcoming a par-ticular vice, sin, or imperfection. He will ask us, "Did you humbly and patiently accept this mystery of iniquity in your life? How did you deal with it? Did you learn from it to be patient and humble? Did it teach you to trust not your own ability but my love? Did it enable you to under-stand better the mystery of iniquity in the lives of others?' ,7 Our lack of perfection will never separate us from God because the Lord's forgiveness is always perfect and total. What to Do Until the Messiah Comes Until that day of Christ Jesus, when we will receive "the perfec-tion that comes through faith in Christ and is from God," we are called to strive for the goal without ceasing (Ph 3: 9-10). We are to imitate St. Paul in his deep yearning "to have Christ and be given a place in him" (Ph 3:9). We have not yet won, but are still running, trying to capture the prize for which Jesus captured us. We too must forget the past and strain ahead for what is still to come. We must, in Paul's words, race "for the finish, for the prize to which God calls us upward to receive in Christ Jesus" (Ph 3: 14). Review for Religious, July-August 1989 Paul's expression of the Christian goal is beautifully poetic. We must look to a contemporary spirituality, however, to translate it into real-life terms. As a guide to Christian living, a spirituality' must spell out the prac-tical dimensions of that vision. It should keep the Gospel ideals eve~r be-fore the Christian sojourner. These ideals are meant to help Christians finish the spiritu~.l race and to receive a place in Christ. They can be use-ful in our spiritual odyssey. Like the stars, they may never be reached; but they are useful to steer our lives by. Ideals can hinder us, however, and discourage us from trying when the fear of performing poorly para-lyzes us. The French saying, "The best is the enemy of the good," il-lustrates this attitude of fearfulness. Ideals impede our spiritual progress when we use them as an excuse for mediocrity, thinking to ourselves: "Christian holiness is something for saintly people, not ordinary folks like us. ". Furthermore, ideals are injurious when they lure us into think-ing that we can earn God's approval by doing everything perfectJy. Paul refers to this as seeking a perfection that comes from the Law rather than from faithin Jesus (Ph 3:9). When striving for holine~ ss deceives us int6 thinking that we can stand in pharisaical judgment over others, we have been seduced by pride. Finally, ideals are harmful when they lead to cyni-cism and disillusionment. That no one fully lives up to espoused values should not undermine the importance of having high aspirations. The fail-ure of sincere efforts should not disillusion us, but the apathy of not try-ing should appall us. Dreaming is not the same as doing. Ideals should inspire us to act, not merely to dream. Thoughts of what could be tomorrow should lead us to do what we can today. When lofty aspirations lead to romantic pre-occupation rather than realistic pursuits, they retard our spiritual devel-opment. In a letter to a friend, C. S. Lewis makes this point nicely: We read of spiritual efforts, and our imagination makes us believe that, because we enjoy the idea of doing them, we have done them. I am ap-palled to see how much of the change which I thought I had undergone lately was on!y imaginary. The real workseems still to be done. It is so fatally easy to confuse an aesthetic appreciation of the spiritual life with the life itself--to dream that you have waked, washed, and dressed and then to find yourself still in bed.8 No matter how grand our ideals, they can only be achieved through small but steady steps. As the Chinese sage Lao Tze stated centuries ago, "The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step." We must bear this wise saying in mind as we let the star of idealism lead us, as with the magi, incompanionship to the Messiah. Striving for Spiritual Maturity / 509 Activity and Passivity in Spiritual Striving Striving for spiritual maturity is paradoxical. It requires us to be si-multaneously active and passive. We are called to exert our efforts and use our God-given talents to develop ourselves. And, at the same time, we must remember that our efforts alone can never bring us to holiness and wholeness; only God's grace can effect our transformation into Christ. While we ultimately cannot save ourselves, we must neverthe-less cooperate with divine grace. We must dispose ourselves to be re-ceptive to the sanctifying action of God's touch. In our spiritual journey we have to negotiate a delicate passage between the Scylla of presump-tion and the Charybdis of despair. Presumption, according.to St. Tho-mas Aquinas, is "an unwarranted dependence upofi God."9 It is the at-titude that God will do it all and that our efforts are not important. Fos-tering irresponsible inaction, it keeps us from doing our part. Despair, on the other hand, is losing hope in God's saving power. It stems from an exclusive reliance on our efforts, without any trust in God's power to make up for Qur human limitations. It results from thinking that eve-rything depends on us alone. Only ongoing discernment can help us main-tain the right balance in our spirituality between personal effort and trust-ing reliance on God. Both dynamics are encouraged by Scripture. Many New. Testament passages attest to the need to rely on God's power in order to bear spiritual fruit in our lives. A beautiful expression of this is the Johannine image of God as the vinedresser. Jesus is the vine and we are the branches. The Father prunes us so that we might bear fruit (Jn 15: I-2). Spiritual growth is passive in the sense that purification and progress are the direct results of God's action upon us. The evangelist Mark reinforces the centrality of God's action in his parable about the seed growing by itself. This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man throws seed on the land. Night and day, while he sleeps, when he is awake, the seed is sprouting and growing; how, he does not know. Of its own accord the land pro-duces first the shoot, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear. And when the crop is ready, he loses no time; he starts to reap because the harvest has come (Mk 4:26-29). Notice that the farmer's work is described with a minimum of words. The emphasis falls on the mysterious process of growth. Just as the earth produces fruit spontaneously, so God's reign comes by divine power alone. Once the seed is planted, the result is as sure, as dependable, and as silent as the forces of nature. Stage by stage--first the green shoot, then the spike of corn, and then the full grain in the ear--the seed of S10 /Review for Religious, July-August 1989 God's reign grows to harvest in a way that the farmer does not under-stand. This parable reminds us that nature (God's creation) contains a power which humans do not make or~direct. Similarly, God's grace will bring about conversion and growth in us in ways we may not understand. In human lives, the Spirit of Jesus is the divine power that brings God's kingdom from seed to harvest. When we remember that God's 'work-ing in us,.can do more than we can ask or imagine' (Ep 3:20), we will be protected from the pride and anxiety that stem from the myth of total self-sufficiency. But Scripture also stresses the importance of human effort. Luke's gospel strongly urges followers of Christ to translate words into action. "Why do you call me Lord, Lord," asks Jesus, "and not do what I say?" (Lk 6:46). Everyone who comes to me and listens to my words and acts on them ¯ . . is like the man who when he built his house dug, and dug deep, and laid the foundations on rock; when the river was in flood it bore down on that house but could not shake it, it was so well built. But the one who listens and does nothing is like the man who built his house on soil, with no foundations: as soon as the river bore down on it, it col-lapsed; and what a ruin that house became! (Lk 6:47-49). Jesus not only challenges us to practice his teachings, but also warns that our very hearing of his word must be done with care. In the parable of the sower and the seed, he describes the fragility ofthe seed of God's word. If it is not received by the right soil, it will not take root and grow. Grains that fall on the edge of the path represent people who have heard the word of God, but have it stolen from their hearts by the forces of evil. Seeds that fall on rock are like people who receive the word in a superfi-cial way, and give up in time of trial. Those that fall in the midst of thorns are Christians who let worries, riches, and pleasures of life choke their growth, preventing it from reaching maturity. Grains that fall in the rich soil signify those of generous hearts who have let the word take deep roots in themselves and have yielded a harvest through their persever-anc. e (Lk 8:11-15). Emphasizing the importance of human effort in dis-posing the soil of the inner self for receiving the word, Jesus concludes with a warning: "So take care how you hear" (Lk 8: 18). While Mark's parable of the seed growing by itself stresses the power of God actively bringing about growth, Luke's parable emphasizes the necessity of en-ergetic human cooperation. Another Lukan parable about a fruitless fig tree highlights the im-portance of personal effort. When its owner realized that his tree had Striving for Spiritual Maturity been barren for three years, he ordered his gardener to remove it. In-stead, the caretaker pleaded, "Sir, leave it one more year and give me time to dig round it and manure it: it may bear fruit next year; if not, then you can cut it down" (Lk 13:8-9). We too are called to actively tend the seed of God's word so that it can take deep roots in our souls and can bear fruit for the world. A classical biblical text used to illustrate the need for docility to God's formative action in our lives is Jeremiah's visit to the potter. Watch-ing the artisan working at his wheel, the prophet noticed that he contin-ued to shape and reshape the clay until he created what he was envision-ing. Then the word of Yahweh came to Jeremiah as follows: "House of Israel, can I not do to you what this potter does?. Yes, like clay in the potter's hand, so you are in mine, House of Israel" (Jr 18:1-6). While the image of the human person as clay being shaped by the divine Potter testifies beautifully to God's active involvement in our spiritual development, it should not be used to justify excessive passivity or in-fantile irresponsibility. While trying to be malleable to the fashioning in-fluence of God, Christians are called to take adult responsibility for their growth. This means taking active means to deepen one's love for God and neighbor. Activity and passivity must coexist in dynamic tension, if we are to remain.spir!tually healthy. In describing her Jeremiah-like visit to a pot-ter at work in Provincetown, situated at the tip of Cape Cod, a recent writer shed light on the active-passive dimension of spiritual formation. The observer discovered that the artist,, a woman-of more than seventy years, was a wise person as well as a potter. After conveying her belief in the direct relationship between the pliability of the clay and its strength, the artisan added, almost as an aside, "If you can't bend a lit-tle and give some, life will eventually break you. It's just the way it is, you know." ~0 The visitor noticed that the potter worked with both hands: one placed inside, applying pressure on the clay; the other on the out-side of the gradually forming pot,. Too much pressure from the outside would cause the pot to collapse, while too much pressure from the in-side would make the pot bulge outward. The old potter spoke wisely about life: Life, like the pot I am turning, is shaped by two sets of opposing forces ¯ . . Sadness and death and misfortune and the love of friends and all the things that happened to m~ that I didn't even choose. All of that in-fluenced my life. But there are things I believe in about myself, my faith in God, and the love of some friends that worked on the insides of me. ~ 512 / Review for Religious,. July-August 1989 Like Jeremiah, this modern day potter sheds light on the Lord's ways of dealing with us. The Lord who calls us to be holy is also the One who forms us into the image of Jesus, the living icon, of God. This divine Art-ist works on us with two hands: one shaping us from the inside and an-other molding us from the outside. Like the clay pot, we need to be mal- . leable. And, paradoxically, our pliability will give us strength to per-severe ac~tively in the process. Knowing how to bend a little will keep us from breaking. Experience as Manure in the Spiritual Field In the spiritual project of transformation into Christ, effort is what counts, not unremitting success. Acclaiming the value of practice in spiri-tual growth, the Eastern guru Chogyam Trungpa speaks of the "manure of experience and the field of bohdi." ~-~ Bohdi represents the search for enlightenment. If we are skilled and p~tient enough to sift through our experiences and study them thoroughly, we can use them to aid our en-lightenment. Our experiences, 'our mistakes, and even our failures func-tion like fertilizer. According to Trungpa, to deny or cover up our errors is a waste of experience. When we do not scrutinize our failures for the lessons they contain, we miss an opportunity. What appears to be use-less trash contains potential .nutrients for life. But, to convert our defi-ciencies into positive value, we need to pile them on a compost heap, not sweep them behind a bush. Hiding failure is to store it like rubbish. "And if you store it like that," the guru remarks, "you would not have enough manure to raise a crop from the wonderful field of bodhi.''~3 In a parallel way, experience can be said to be manure in the field of Christian development. Like manure, past experiences must be plowed into the ground to enrich the inner soil of the self, making it more re-ceptive to. the see.d of God's word. Then, we will reap an abundant har-vest base~l on our perseverance. Mistakes need not ruin our spiritual jour-ney, if we learn from them. Even saints like Augustine of Hippo and Ig-natius of Loyola learned how not to make mistakes by making many. The Lord who desires our holiness can bring good out of everything, can work in any and all of our experiences to transform us. In our fragmen-tation, we rejoice in the power of God to bring wholeness. If we bring our weakness before the Lord, humbly asking for the help of enabling grace, we can then trust that the Lord will produce an abundant harvest. Spiritual Growth Through Trial and Error The ideals of Christian spirituality cannot be achieved without im-mersing ourselves in the messiness of nitty-gritty experience. Learning Striving for Spiritual Maturity how to love God and others in an integrated way comes only through daily practice. The way of trial and error, not book learning alone, will teach us how to fashion a dynamic and balanced life in which there is room for solitude and community, ministry and leisure, autonomy and intimacy, personal transformation and social reform, prayer and play. Striking the right balance is a highly personal matter. No one can attain it for us; we must discover it ourselves through personal experience. As theologian John Dunne states, "Only one who has tried the extremes can find this personal mean., on the other hand, trying the extremes will not necessarily lead to finding the mean. Only the [person] who perceives the shortcomings of.the extremes will find it. 14 Blessings for the Journey Achieving wholeness and holiness requires traversing the difficult ter-rain of real life with all its challenges and crises. Even at the end of a lifetime of effort, we will still need to be completed by the finishin~g touch of the divine Artist. God will .then bring to completion in us the eternal design of persons destined to love wholeheartedly. While await-ing that unifying touch of divine grace, we pilgrims are called to follow the way of Jesus. And the Lord who walks with us assures that we will always be blessed. The blessings sent our way may not always be enjoy-able, but they will always nudge us forward in our efforts to love as God i'ntended. °~ A rabbi was once asked, "What is a blessing?" He prefaced his an-swer with a riddle involving the creation account in chapter one of Gene-sis. The riddle went this way: After finishing his work on each of the first five days, the Bible states, "God saw that it was good." But God is not reported to have commented on the goodness of what was created on the sixth day when the human person was fashioned. "What conclu-sion can you draw from tha~?" asked the rabbi. Someone volunteered, "We can conclude that the human person ~s not good." "Possibly," the rabbi nodded, "but that's not a likely explanation." He then went on to explain that the Hebrew word translated as "good" in Genesis is the word "tov," which is better translated as "complete." That is why, the rabbi contended, God did not declare the human person to be "toy." Human beings are created incomplete. It is our life's vocation to collabo-rate with our Creator in fulfilling the Christ-potential in each of us. As the medieval mystic Meister Eckhart suggested, Christ longs to be born and developed into fullness in each of us.~5 A blessing is anything that enters into the center of our lives and expands our capacity to be filled with Christ's love. Therefore, a blessing may not always be painless, but Review for Religious, July-August 1989 it will always bring spiritual growth. Being blessed does not mean being perfect, but being completed. To be blessed is not to get out of life what we think we want. Rather, itis the assurance that God's purifying grace is active in us, so that our "hidden self (may) grow strong" and "Christ may live in (our) hearts through faith." In this way, we will with all the saints be "filled with the utter fullness of God" (Ep 3:16-19). NOTES I Sam Keen, "Manifesto for a Dionysian Theology," in New Theology No. 7, eds. Martin E. M~irty and Dean G. Peerman (New York: Macmillan, 1970), p. 97. 2 LeRoy Aden, "On Carl Rogers" Becoming,"Theology Today XXXVI:4 (Jan. 1980), p. 558. 3 lbid, p. 557. 4 Ibid. 5 lbid, p. 558. 6 Adrian van Kaam, Religion and Personality (Denville, New Jersey: Dimension Books, 1980), p. 15. 7 lbid, p. 15. 8 C.S. Lewis, The3, Stand Together: The Letters of C.S. Lewis to Arthur Greeves (1914-1963), ed. Walter Hooper (New York: The Macmillan Co., Inc. 1979), p. 361. 9 Saint Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, Latin Text and English Translation, Introductions, Notes, Appendices, and GIossaries,~Vol. 33 (Blackfriars, with New York: McGraw-Hill and London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1966), II-II, Q 21, a I, ad 1. ~0 Paula Ripple, Growing Strong at Broken Places (Notre Dame, Indiana: Ave Ma-ria Press, 1986), p. 68. ~ Ibid, p. 69. ~z Chogyam Trungpa, Meditation in Action (Boston: Shambhala, 1985), p. 26. ~3 Ibid. ~4 John Dunne, The Way of All the Earth (New York: MacMillan Company, 1972), pp. 37-38. ~5 Meister Eckhart once said: "What good is it to me if Mary gave birth to the son of God fourteen hund'r~ed years ago and I do not also give birth to the son of God in my time and in my culture?" As quoted in Matthew Fox, Original Blessing: A Primer in Creation Spirituality (Santa Fe, New Mexico: Bear & Company, 1983), p. 221. The Shifting Order of Religious Life in our Church Maryanne Stevens, R.S.M. Sister Maryanne Stevens, R.S.M., is currently Assistant Professor of Theology at Creighton University. She had served as formation director for the Sisters of Mercy, Province of Omaha from 1977-1982. Her address is Department of Theology; Creighton University; California at 24th Street; Omaha, Nebraska 68178. The difficulty of thinking thorough questions about religious life today should not be underestimated. Such reflection is often complicated by the fact that those straining to see and articulate what the shifts in relig-ious orders mean for their future in our Church are often themselves mem-bers Of religious congregations. Thus, the efforts to make sense of vowed living can be blindedoby both self-interests and past~ ways of understand-ing. Th6 blindness feels to me like the fuzzy sight of Mark's blind man who could see people "but they look like trees, walking" (Mk 8:24). It was only after the man "looked intently" that he was able to see ev-erything clearly. This ~article is more an attempt to describe the "tree walking" than to asser(any.de~finitive conclusions. Two circumstances in particular have sparked my own reflections on the changing order of religious life. First, we continue to have members "leaving." They do not leave in the dark of night as they did in the 1950s; rather many stand before us in assembly or community saying that their integrity prevents them from +ontinuing to live the vowed life, but they wish always to remain ""sister" or "brother" to us. Many are not immediately interested in a different lifestructure, for example, marriage, personal wealth, and so forth; rather, they are no longer able to connect celibacy, poverty, and obedience to any understanding of their life. Secondly, those within religious communities primarily vested with 515 516 / Review for Religious~ July-August 1989 the role of discerning vocations and incorporating new members are no longer called the "formation-vocation" team. They are now referred to as the "membership team." Some of these new membership teams are made up of non-vowed associates of the community~ as well as vowed members. The job description of these teams is unclear even though it includes the discernment of vocation and the incorporation of new mem-bers because vocation and membership have taken on new meanings. Vo-cation is not necessary to the "vowed" life and membership does not necessitate professing the vows. The new terminology and the alteration in the constitution of the teams are profound symbols of a "changing order." These two realities--members continuing to remain attached to con-gregations even though they "leave" and the development of "mem-bership teams"--can allow for i~ew insight into how, with decreasing numbers,,religious orders will continue the legacy of their foun~lresses or founders, women and men whose gifts have been confirmed as a vivi-fying influence in the Church and the world.2 These gifts or charisms are the animating characteristics for the style of life, witness, and apostolic action within the congregations. Membership within a congregation has meant at its most basic level that a person'believes he or she is called to re-offer the charis~m of the founder to the contemporary world. This offering is buttressed by the belief that the gifts of the founder or foun-dress are not time-bound and will continueto contribute to a further ap-proximation of the reign of God in history. Thus the Sisters of Merc~y (the "order" to which I belong) present the foundation for their exis-tence as the desire to continue the story of a nineteenth-century Irish woman, Catherine McAuley, in theChurch and in the world. This par-ticular goal is expressed by tfieir fourtti vow of gervice and through the wording of their present Constituiions which point to the ideals of their congregation as well as the way they presently understand their congre-gation and words the way they presently understand th6ir mission as a community within the Church. By the vow of service we commit ourselves to exercise the spiritual and corporal works of mercy revealed to us through~ t~,h.e life of Jesus. En-riched by his love, healed by his mercy and0taught by his word we serve the poor, sick, and ignorant. To celebrate our corporate word in a discordant society requires the courage of a deep'faith and interior joy. We believe that God is faithful and that our struggle to follow Christ will extend God's reign of love over human hearts. We rejoice in the continued invitation to seek jus- The Shifting Order of Religious Life tice, to be compassionate, and to reflect mercy to the world.3 The thesis of this article is simply that the clues for how to continue the legacy of a particular founder or foundress will be found by looking intently at how the tradition of the founder or foundress continues to be lived, seeking to confirm all those ~'ho focus their discipleship of Christ through the prism of his or her life and legacy. In order to amplify this thesis, I will discuss eight understandings that result from an attempt to "look intently," and then present several ideas intended to help the "re-ordering" of religious communities. But, first, one caveat is necessary. No matter how blind men and women religious feel as they grope toward an understanding of their .lives, they must trust that they faithfully embody the tradition of the par-ticular foundress.or founder. When I was in formation work in the 1970s, I was fond of telling the newer .members that the Sisters of Mercy were made up of the names in the current directory and the names on the tomb-stones in our cemeteries. This was the most concrete way of describing what they were getting into~companionship with persons who were char-acterized by a variety of shapes, sizes, quirks, personalities, sickness, gifts, skills, weaknesses, ideas, and so forth--but with one thing in com-mon: they all believed they were called to focus their discipleship through the story of Catherine McAuley. It seemed essential that each member act toward the other with the belief that each sister was a part of this tradition and that all were searching for what was necessitated by the call to appropriately renew the story (or tradition) in the light of the sources of Christian life, the original inspiration behind the community and the changed condition of the times.'* At that time I was pointing the novices toward the vowed members of the group, the Sisters. Now the names in our directory include asso-ciate, that is non-vowed, members who have made a contract with us in which we promise our support for their attempts to live the tradition of Catherine McAuley and they promise specific ways in which they will contribute to the offering of Catherine's gifts to the Body of Christ. There-fore, wl~ether we be Sister JaneSmith, R.S.M. or Jane Smith, Associ-ate of the Sisters of Mercy, we must believe in and support one another as we seek to embody the tradition of our foundress. Each of us brings only a part of the story, thus each person who focuses his or her disci-pleship through the same tradition helps focus the present and the future "order" of one's specific congregation. Part I The following are my understandings of religious life today: I ) Men and women in religious orders are disciples of Jesus. We be- 511~ / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 long to a pilgrim people searching for the reign of God. We are blinded by sin and limitation as we seek to discover the ways of our God as re-vealed through Jesus. We learn how to follow Jesus in our times and in our circumstances. The primary mode of ou'r learning is experiential. It is complex and it calls us to struggle with our daily realities to see anew w,hat patterns in 6ur lives need conversion. The greatest threat to our dis-cipleship is to think that we have learned enough or to reduce the reign of God to the glimpses of glory which we see in our own time. Liberation theology is probably the clearest indication to today's Church that it is still on pilgrimage. Begun with Moses' vision of a God who had heard the crying out of the Israelite slaves, reiterated in Han-nah's canticle that praises God as one who will raise up the lowly, and reborn in the 1970s through the efforts of those struggling to see God and understand God's ways from the experience of twentieth-century op-pression, this theology reminds us as a Church that we are still learning not only how, but where to find Jesus.5 2) Members of religious orders are those who are disciples of a par-ticular charismatic leader recognized by our Church. Recognizing that our stories do not belong to the time and culture of the founder or foun-dress, the charisms of these characters and their companions are a way of expressing discipleship in Christ. To be members ofa religious con-gregation~ is to take one way of interpreting discipleship of Jesus, namely the life of a founder or foundress, as a way to focus discipleship. Again, congregational members are disciples of this way of focusing, that is, there is no profession, ministry, office, or role, no direct service or in-stitutionalized ,ministry, that exempts members frorri continually learn-ing what it means to pattern their lives or focus their discipleship of Je-sus through the prism of this great man or woman. All of our lives are mystery, not in the sense that they defy explana-tion, but in Gabriel Marcel's sense that the more we are involved in them, the more inseparable we become from their depth.6 Our Church has confirmed the legacy of some men and women as mysterious, that is, there is within these persons a depth of discipleship that calls and be-comes involving for others. Nano Nagle, Francis of Assisi, Ignatius of Loyola, Elizabeth Seton, Angela Merici, and Catherine McAuley are some of these people. Their gift to the Church is mysterious to us, and that is why they can properly have disciples. The more their lives, their stories are considered, the more insight we gain into what it might mean to be a disciple of Christ in our time. Thus, many religious congregations acknowledged with Vatican II The Shifting Order of Religious Life that reflection on what it meant to follow Christ and to plead the radical nature of the Gospel through the focus on their particular founder or foun-dress meant that they must be learners of new ways. The call for renewal necessitated a refounding and a reordering of these congregations that con-tinues into the present.7 This challenge reminds many in a very profound way that they are indeed learners. 3) We are co-dikciples. There can be no doubt about this. Baptism incorporates us into a community of disciples. As members of religious communities, we are co-disciples, learners with the other clergy and la-ity. Appropriating Gospel values and finding patterns of life that typify holiness are calls received by all within the Christian community, whether they be married, single, or vowed. The sixth-century understand-ing of Pseudo-Dionysius who envisioned the grace of God as descend-ing through three hierarchical angelic choirs into two earthly hierarchies of clergy and laity respectively was normative until Lumen Gentium's statement that "in the Church, everyone . . . is called to holi-ness . ,,8 No longer do lay folk stand below those ~who profess the evangelical counsels nor do the latter stand below those who are ordained to the priesthood in the Church. Paul VI reiterated the Vatican Council's hierarchy-shattering words when he said that the whole Church received the mission of Jesus--"the community of believers, the community of hope lived and communicated, the community of love. ,,9 The consideration of volunteers, partners, and associates who claim the life and charism of a founder or foundress of a religious order in our Church as their way of focusing discipleship reminds us that we are co-disciples. These new relationships can intimidate as well as inspire and so we must continually remind ourselves of John Paul ll's challenge to the whole Church to embrace mercy. In Dives in Misericordia, he de-fined Christian mercy as "the most perfect incarnation of "equality" between people., love and mercy bring it about that people meet one another in that value which is the human person., thus mercy becomes an indispensable element for shaping mutual relationships between peo-ple, in a spirit of deepest respect for what is human . ,,~0 4) As members of apostolic congregations, ministry is our reason for existence. A common life and the vows have constituted the order of re-ligious life, but the purpose of this order for apostolic communities has always been service. Many founders and foundresses wrote words simi-lar to those of Catherine McAuley, the foundress of the Sisters of Mercy, when describing the qualifications for an aspirant to apostolic groups. Catherine stre'ssed "an ardent desire to be united to God and to serve 520 / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 the poor" and a "particular interest" in helping the sick and dying. ~ The rereading of the history of apostolic orders, which was occasioned by the cali of Vatican II to renew, led many congregational members to realize that "order" or common patterns in the style and structure of the lives of men and women who focused their discipleship through the charism of a particular founder, is negotiable, but the reason for the or-der is not. This should help women and men religious to open themselves and their ownership of the legacy of their founder or foundress to those who do not "order" their lives in the same way. If the purpose of the order is service,or ministry, then should those who do not profess the evangelical counsels be excluded? This can be a very challenging ques-tion, because throughout history the only way to claim concretely many of these charisms or legacies was to order one's life through the evan-gelical counsels of poverty, celibacy, and obedience. But, as Dorothy noted in the Wizard of Oz, "Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore." Men and wom'en who do not profess these vows are desiring both to minister after the fashion of these great men and women and to receive the sup-port of congregations dedicated to these legacies without maintaining a common living style or divesting themselves of marriage possibilities or ownership of property. 5) It is not order, but mission that describes our lives. John O'Mal-ley, S.J. claims that the history of apostolic religious orders might more properly belong to the history of ministry than to the history of institu-tionalized asceti~cism. ~2 Groups that banded together for the sake of serv-ice presented a whole new trajectory within our Church, as they were a break from the ascetical tradition. However, the Church in its concern to regulate these groups modeled their "order" on the flight of Anthony into the desert in 275 A.D. Many of the great women foundresses, in par-ticular, found their desire to gather others for the sake of service to a par-ticular need frustrated by an order of enclosure, profession of vows, and obedience to an ecclesiastical superior. ~3 For example, the Sisters of Mercy often reflect on the history of Cath-erine McAuley whose companionship with other women grew around their mutual attention to the poor in early nineteenth-century Dublin. In-dependently wealthy, she commissioned the building of a "House of Mercy'r in which women could gather to devote themselves to the relief of suffering and the instruction of the ignorant. She resisted and ex-pressed discomfort about the "order" of the lives of those in congrega-tions of nuns, to the point of abhorring the thought of spending time in the Presentation novitiate to learn the ways of an established canonical The Shifting Order of Religious Life / 591 institute into the Church. However she submitted to the "ordering" be-cause without it her mission would have failed. ~4 The time in which she lived demanded that women engaged in companionship for the salve of service be organized as vowed religious women. Among many active congregations of religious in the United States, especially congregati.ons of women, the question of whether or not to re5 main canonical has arisen. This question is motivated primarily by the difficulty involved in gaining the Congregation for Religious and Secu-lar Institute's (CRIS) approbation for Constitutions and the reordering of "religious" life so that it more properly aids in fulfilling the particular mission of the group. ~5 The question, however, is not whether religious congregations will choose to remain canonical, that is, of some standard within our Church; the question is how their "order" will be specified within the Church,-that is, how will they organize themselves as women arid men embodying the charisms of great founders or foundresses within the Church. Ignoring for a moment the enormous difficulties of dealing with a bureaucratic power structure that often seems less than open to anything irregular, let us look at the question before us. Can we, as disciples of the great founders and foundresses in our Church, make a distinction be-tween vocation to a particular lifestyle or life structure (that is, marriage vows/the choice of single life/vows of poverty, celibacy, obedience) and the vocation to a particular charism and mission within the Church (a deep identity with the spirit and gifts of a particular person who focuses our discipleship of Jesus)? I think that the movements of associate membership, volunteers, part-nership (all of which imply non-vowed varying degrees of membership in religious "orders"), mighi be a tremendously important break within the history of what have come to be called "active orders" in our Church, but these movements will further our ability as a Church to do ministry as baptized disciples of Jesus. 6) One of the most pressing questions for: religious congregations is what life structure or "order of life"facilitates discipleship of Jesus focused through the mission of their founder or foundress. The current documentation abou( the life structure of those called to follow a foun-der or foundress organizes it around the three vows of poverty, celibacy, and obedience. Both the Vatican II document on religious life and the 1983 Essentials of Religious Life promulgated by the Vatican Congrega-tion for Religious and for Secular Institutes present the evangelical coun-sels as not only "essential," but also as the basis for the organization 522/Review for Religious, July-August 1989 of life for those in religious congregations. However, both Sandra Sch-neiders and John Lozano, show effectively in their recent and widely read treatments of religious life that the vows cannot be taken as impor-tant in themselves. 16 The vows, if taken at all, need to be placed in the context'of a statement of desire to,pursue the mission of the community, how we promise to accept the responsibilities of this mission in our lives, and how others dedicated to this mission accept us within their group. Furthermore there is more and more recognition (fueled by the relatively new science of psychology) t.hat intimate, committed relationships to per-sons, ownership, and autonomy do not make one less holy. Along with this, New Testament scholars have shown that these counsels do not flow from the gospels as such, but were constructs of our Church at a later time. And, even without Vatican ll's assertion of.the universal call to holiness, experience tells most of those who are presently members of religious congregations that they are no more holy than thos6 who choose to marry and have children, own property, and center their autonomy dif-ferently. Indeed, if men and women are going to structure their lives by pro-fessing the evangelical coufisels, (thus sacrificing the gifts of sex, own-ership, and autonomy), then these must only be given up for the sake of mission. Johannes Metz is perhaps the most clear and the most chal-lenging on this point. In his Followers o.fChrist: Perspectives on Relig-ious Life, he argues that the vows are both mystical and political. Thus, poverty demands not only a protest against the tyranny of having, pos-sessing, and pure self-assertion; it also impels those practicing it into a practical and situational solidarity with those poor whose poverty is their condition of life and the situation exacted of them by society, rather than a matter of virtue. Celibacy, as a state of being radically seized by a long-ing for the reign of God, impels one toward those unmarried people whose not having anyone is not a virtue but their social destiny, and to-wards those who are shut up in lack of expectation and in resignation. And finally, obedience is the radical and uncalculated surrender to God and it impels one to situate oneself .among those for whom obedience is nota matter of virtue but the sign of oppression and placement in tute-lage.~ 7 It is only in this way that these counsels can ever be real signs of eschatological witness. Metz has called vowed communities "shock therapy instituted by the Holy Spirit for the Church as a whole.''~8 Us-ing Metz's ideas, if I read him right, many more of us might call our-selves "associate members" of religious congregations than already do out of integrity. There may be many who want to focus their discipleship The Shifting Order of Religious Life / 593 of Jesus through the legacy of a great founder or foundress, but their ac-commodations to the culture would indicate not that they are lesser dis-c! ples, but rather that the functions they perform and the gifts they bring to the reign of God are not th6se that necessitate or call them to the vowed life. That is, "association" may be more appropriate for those who draw support from the tradition or story of a great founder or foundress and find the mission of that congregation an animating principle for their dis-cipleship. Whereas formal vowed commitment to one another, relinquish-ing of goods and full authoring over one's choice of service might be re-served for those whose discipleship leads them to more radical under-takings. The question here concerns the life-structure (or "order") that has traditionally been associated with claiming followership of a specific mission in our Church. Are there ways to embody the tradition of minis-try defined, by a great founder or foundress in our Church as one group in which some are vowed to poverty, celibacy, and obedience and oth-ers are not? Those who are vowed in the traditional way choose a life-structure which more clearly binds them to the ~reedom to move around and respond to unmet needs among the poor, alone, and oppressed. 19 Those who do not profess the vows but do center their discipleship on the founding charism might be called to a,life-structure which points to-ward a certain stability within a local Church community. One could as-sert that there must be ways to accommodate this diversity because even using the traditional ordering of religious life, which included the vows of poverty, celibacy, and obedience as part of the package, I would sub-mit that there are some within religious congregations who have the free-dom to live the vows as Metz proscribes and others whose lives point toward and demand a different modi~ of discipleship. That is, the vows may not be absolutely constitutive of focusing one's discipleship through the charism of a great founder or foundress.2° 7) There is a need for enabling ministers who are not constrained by local church boundaries. According to O'Malley, one of the most re-markable characteristics of the development of active orders is that it in effect created a "church order (or several church orders) within the great church order and itdid this for the reality to which ~:hurch order primar-ily looks--ministry."z~ That is, pontifically erected religious orders en-joy a warrant and exemption from the bishop of Rome to act publicly on behalf of the Christian community wherever the needs to which their charism responds arise. This has, throughout history, caused some ju-ridical as well as cultural complications. However, despite difficulties, 524 / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 needs have been' attended to that would never have been served if it was necessary to rely only on the personnel within local boundaries. As the order of religious life shifts, this is a very important compo-nent of our history that should not be lost. This "pontifical warrant" for the sake of ministry has allowed for tremendous creativity in meet-ing the needs of the people of God. Glimpses of the reign of God are seen in the histqry Of religious orders who have brought literacy, heal-ing, and economic stability to the uneducated, sick, ahd poor around the world. 8) Finally, men and women in religious orders need to realize the gifts they can sh~are with the Church. The emergence of the laity is very new to our Church, and the long history that religious orders have of do-in~ ministry leaves many' within them unskilled at enabling and serving with others. But vowed men and women need to recognize that one of the gifts they may have is 6ffering those who have taken to heart the mes-sagegf the gospel and the spirit of Vatican II both some encouragement and some means for realizing their call. Many who~desire a more intense following of Christ may find that the sp, iritual, intellectual, and apostolic life in their parishes does not encourage these needs and aspirations. Thus, they only feel frustration in their call to maturity and co-responsibility in the Church. Religious orders ha~,e a wealth of experi-ence in thinking through methods for spiritual development and encour-aging other adults in gro~vth. Many find in religious life rich resources of the heritage of the Church not avail~.ble in local parishes. They find a focus and discipline for spiritual growth, a unifiedvision of the pur-pose of discipleship, .and a structured identity with a family in a living tradition of the Church. The challenge is to share these gifts, without thinking people have to become "mini-religious'"l~o acquire them. An extension of our charisms beyond those in the vowed ranks might mean that many more can become effective ministers in the parish and the Church at large. Part II We should not be surprised that a "new ordering" is difficult for us to think about and may even create controversy, dissention, and fear when we attempt to talk about it with one another. Anything new always brings a death to something within the present. Many of us love our way of ordering our .lives. We have lived the vows and known ourselves and our companions to grow through the experiences they have presented to us. We want to share our-lives, extend them, and see the "ordering" that has facilitated our growth be embraced by others. Yet this "order" The Shifting Order of Religious Life / 525 may have to die so that discipleship focused on the great charismatic lead-ers in our Church might continue. We are challenged to refound our con-gregations. This challenge implies the freedom to consider reordering our lives for the sake of mission. From the above understanding flow the following ideas that may help religious congregations to reorder their membership and to reorder the perception of religious life in the Church. I) We, as those who vowed ourselves to the legacy of great founders and foundresses within the order specified by the Church, must continue to think about what that means. Imitating her tongue-in-cheek, I quote the twentieth-century Jewish philosopher, Hannah Arendt, "what I pro-pose, therefore, is very simple: it is nothing more than to think what we are doing." The thinking, although allegedly simple, is.indeed quite com-plex and we of.ten try to escape it, precisely because we did it once be-fore during the 60s and the 70s. Even though new life was born in our midst, many of us remember the struggle and some among us have not quite recovered. Thifiking usually means that we risk conversation of sub-stance. And conversation of substance usually implies the same kind of controversy as that depicted in the Gospel account of Jesus asking Peter a question of substance. "Who do people say .that I am?" is the query of the man who had just multiplied loaves and then cured a blind one. Peter knew who Jesus was. "You are the Christ." But Peter did not like the implications of the insight. "Get behind me, Satan" is the rebuke heard when Peter tried to squirm out of the new order specified not only for Jesus but also for his own discipleship. Insights gleaned from thinking and from conversation of substance can be threatening. But we must remember that even more threatening is the possibility that some valuable offerings to the further approxima-tion of the reign of God will be lost if we are unwilling to gain and ex-press the insights of our experiences. If our experience is that the vows do not make meaning in our lives, but the charism of our founder does, then perhaps we must search for other ways to order our lives so as to offer more fully the charism of our. community to the Church. And, if our experience is that others who are not vowed can claim the legacy of our founders, (and more importantly if their experience confirms this), then they must be allowed to do so in an equal fashion. 2) We must effect reconciliation and a spirit of interdependence within our Church, especially with persons and groups claiming the same charism. As stated earlier, a tradition specifying that God's grace flowed toward the non-vowed and non-ordained last was reinforced in 596 / Review foUr Religious, July-August 1989 popular piety until the Second Vatican Council. This distanced many re-ligious from other laity and created a perception ihat vows or ordination meant that one was more graced and clos+r to God'. Men and women in religious; congregations must actively pursue reconciliation with other la-ity because, intentionally or non-intentionally, some disunity has been effected within .our Church. We can take a cue from Paul, ambassador of reconciliation, who was .furious with his community at Galatia when they entertained the idea ofclassifying and categorizing the early Chris-tians. In Christ, there is neithe~ Jew nor Greek, slave nor free person, male nor female, women religious nor lay women, Dominican from Mercy, associate member from more traditionally ordered mem-bers . Often former members of religious orders continue to claim the charism of the order as a way of focusing their discipleship. We must reach out to these people and ask them if,. even though they found the "order" of our lives restrictive, they still find themselves drawn to the charism asa focus. We need to confirm the existence and continuance of the charism in these people, and perhaps just as importantly, let them confirm the continuance of the charism in us. A more concrete way of symbolizing our reconciliation and interdependence on one another is a very simple, yet awkward thing. We need to re-form our vocabulary so that "sisters" and "brothers" does not refer to a closed group of vowed women or men. Just as many have committed themselves to the use of gender inclusive language, we need to change the language specific to our communities, so that "sisters and brothers" becomes a way to refer to all, vowed and non-vowed, who find themselves bound to the same charism. 3) Within our working places, we must announce what inspires us. We must claim our founder or foundress as inspirations, as stories that aid our belief in and discipleship of the Christ. Many people look for a way to focus and sustain their belief, and there appear to be few heroes of a depth able to sustain followers in our contemporary life. Since many of us have been inspired by and nurtured in the founding spirit of a great man or woman disciple of Christ, we must share the gift. We must let others know what moves us, inspires us, and keeps us going as disciples in a world where the odds against the fullness of God's reign dawning seem to be mounting. Perhaps we need ways to be again inspired and again encouraged in our own focus before we will feel enthusiastic enough to inspire others. In many cases, our associates are formally rethinking and reaffirming The Shifting Order of Religious Life / 527 their commitments each year. They renew their covenant with the leg-acy of the community, and they reconsider and recommit themselves to their association with others who share the same focus. Might we not learn from them something about animating our own commitments by using this model? Let us not merely resurrect the passivity of receiving an appointment card with our job and the provincial's name on it, even though there was important symbolism there. Let us every year rework and represent our covenant with the legacy of our founder or foundress. Let us reconsider and recommit ourselves to the implications of disci-pleship and association with others who share the same mission. These understandings and recommendation are initial forays into a very difficult, yet timely, topic. They are intended to spark further thought and discussion. Although I doubt there is danger of them being considered a "last word," let me close with a few lines from T.S. Eliot's Four Quartets. They reflect, 1 think, what it means to see trees walking, to be fuzzy in our sight, and what it means to face this period of time as religious men and women in our Church. These are only hints and guesses Hints, followed by guesses, and the rest Is prayer, observance, discipline, thought, and action. The hint half guessed, the gift half understood is Incarnation. Here the impossible union of spheres of existence is actual, Here the past and future Are conquered, and reconciled . -~-~ NOTES ~ An associate member is defined for the purposes of this article as one who wants to share in the life and apostolate of a religious institute and to become a member to a certain extent. "They are members associated and not incorporated by profes-sion. For a discussion of the variety of such groups and their notation in the new code of Canon Law, see Elio Gambari, Religious Life According to Vatican II and the New Code of Canon Law, (Boston: Daughters of St. Paul, 1986), pp. 625-635. Also, David F. O'Connor, "Lay Associate Programs: Some Canonical and Practi-cal Considerations," REview For~ REt.~;~ous 44, 2(March-April, 1985), pp. 256-267. 2 How to continue the legacy of the founder or foundress or how to continue the mis-sion of the congregation is understood to be the underlying concern of those who e.xpress dismay of the declining numbers in religious congregations. 3 Sisters of Mercy of the Union, Constitutions (Silver Spring, Maryland, 1986), nos. 29-30. Most active congregations use wording similar to this to describe their mis-sion. 521~ / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 4 This describes the call to religious men and women from the Second Vatican Coun-cil, See Perfectae Caritatis, the "Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of the Relig-ious Life," no. 2 in Walter Abbott (ed.), The Documents~ of Vatican !I (The Amer-ica Press, 1966)." " 5 For a concise description of liberation theology by two of its most challenging pro-ponents, see Leonardo and Clodovis Boff, Introducing Liberation Theology (Ma-ryknoll: Orbis Press, 1987). 6 See his Being and Having, (New York: Harper Torchbook edition, 1965), p. I 17, 145. 7 For some initial strategies presented to and used widely in the early 1980s by men and wom,en religious struggling with the call to '~refound," see Lawrence Cada et al, Shaping the Coming Age of Religious Life, (New York: Seabury Press, 1979). s "The Dogmatic Constitution on the Church," in Abbott, no. 39. 9 Evangelii Nuntiandi, "On Evangelization in the Modern World (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Catholic Conference, 1976). no. 15. ~0 "Rich in Mercy," (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Catholic Conference,. 1981), no. 14. ~ 1836 letter to a parish priest in Nass, Ireland, Quoted in Kathleen O'Brien's Jour-neys: A Preamalgamation History of the Sisters of Mercy, Omaha, Province (Omaha, Nebraska: Sisters of Mercy,1987), 6. ~20'Malley conceives of "active orders" as a '~critically important phenomenon in the history of ministry claiming "apostolic" inspiration," rather than as the insti-tutional embodiment of an ascetical tradition traced back to Pachomius. See -Priest-hood, Ministry, and Religious Life: Some Historical and Historiographical Consid-erations," in Theological Studies, 49 (1988), p. 227. ~3 The sweeping 1298 decree of Boniface VIII (repeated by Pius V in 1566) com-manded that "all nuns, collectively and individually, present and to come, of what-soever order of religion, in whatever part of the world they may be, shall henceforth remain in their monasteries in perpetual enclosure." Insight into the unfortunate ef-fect of this decree throughout the centuries following on women's attempts to or-gaoize associations for ministry can be gleaned from reading histories of women foun-dresses, such as Angela Merici, Nano Nagle, Mary Ward, and Louise de Marillac. ~'~ For more information about Catherine McAuley, see Sr. M. lgnatia Neumann, R.S.M., ed., Letters of Catherine McAuley (Baltimore: Helicon Press Inc., 1969) and M. Joanna Regan, R.S.M., Tender Courage: A Reflection on the Life and Spirit of Catherine M~Auley, First Sister of Mert3, (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1988). ~5 Note the history of the Glenmary Sisters of Cincinnati or the Los Angeles I.H.M.'s in addition to the more recent stories of Agnes Mary Monsour, Arlene Violet, and Elizabeth Morancy, all Sisters of Mercy unable to continue their ministries as vowed women ifi religious congregations. Consider also the present renewal attempts of the Association of Contemplative Sisters. For brief surveys of these cases, see "Inside- Outsiders" chapter three of Mary Jo Weaver's New Catholic Women: A Contempo-rary Challenge to Traditional Religious Authority (New York: Harper and Row, 1988) . ~6 See Sandra M. Schneiders, New Wineskins: Re-imaging Religious Lift, Today (New York: Paulist, 1986) and John M. Lozano, Discipleship: Towards An Understand-ing of Religious Life (Chicago: Claret Center tk)r Spiritual Resources, 1980). Also see O'Malley, "Priesthood," p. 249 tbr the same point from a different perspec- The Shifting Order of Religious Life / 599 tive. ~7 J.B. Metz, Followers of Christ: Perspectives on the Religious Life (New York: Paulist Press, 1978), chapter 3. ~8 lbid, p. 12. 19 Being "bound to freedom" appears at first sight to be an oxymoron, however the phrase is an attempt to reflect the demands made by the vows. ~0 Of interest in this regard is that even though various documentation from our church and the recent writings on religious life avert to the vows as important, if not essential, the Fifth Interamerican Conference on Religious Life, inclusive of leader-ship from men and women religious of North and South America, did not name the vows as essential. In a preparatory paper, the Leadership Conference of Women Re-ligious named mission, community, freedom, ministry, participative government, pub-lic witness, apostolic spirituality, spirituality of the founder, and ecclesial character as characteristics of religious life. None of the descriptions of the above included the vows. See The Role of Apostolic Religious Life in the Context of the Contempo-rary Chu'rch and World: Fifth Interamerican Conference on Religious Life (Ottawa: Canadian Religious Conference, 1986). 2~ O'Malley, p. 236. 22 T.S. Eliot, The Four Quartets (London: Faber and Faber, 1960), lines 212-219. Monasticism: A Place of Deeper Unity M. Basil Pennington, O.C.S.O. Father Basil Pennington, O.C.S.O., well-known for his many publications on prayer and the contemplative life, may be addressed at Assumption Abbey; Route 5; Ava, Missouri 65608. In 1976 for six months I had the privilege of living among the Orthodox monks on Mount Athos, the semi-autonomous monastic republic in north-ern Greece. There the Gospels are the law of the land and day-to-day liv-ing is governed by the writings of the great spiritual fathers of the past, most notably those of Saint Basil, Archbishop of Caesarea, named the Great. I noted the remarkable affinity between the life lived on the Moun-tain and that lived by the monks of Saint Joseph's Abbey in the United States, from whence I came. The one great difference that struck me was the way lay visitors were incorporated into the life and worship of the monks. It was evident that there was no gulf between the life and wor-ship of the monks and that of the ordinary devout member of the Ortho-dox church. Orthodox monasticism is at the heart of the Church and all the rest of Church life is deeply influenced by it. In Western Christianity, monasticism is further removed from the life of the ordinary church member. Yet the historical influence of the monas-tics can not be denied, even among those Christian Churches which have largely disowned monasticism. Catholics generally revere monasticism, especially the more contemplative variety, and hold it in reverence as something vital to the life of the Church. The Second Vatican Council affirmed this strongly. Quite generally Catholics frequent monastic guest houses and retreats and find there something that speaks deeply to them. Protestant Christians from such contacts are beginning to reclaim this part of the common Christian heritage. The Anglican or Episcopal church 530 Monasticism and Unity/531 has been in the forefront in this. But the most notable Protestant monas-tery is one within the reform tradition--the monastery of Taize which is found in a part of France filled with monastic resonances: Citeaux, Cluny, Molesme. Most re~:ently the General Conference of the United Methodist Church has authorized the exploration of the possibility of es-tablishing an ecumenical monastic community in the United States. ,Monasticism is, then, a widespread phenomenon within the Chris-tian community and is becoming ever more present. It would be difficult to exaggerate the role of monasticism within some of the other world religions. Tibet, before the recent Communist take over, could have been called, like Mount Athos, a monastic coun-try, more a theocracy than a republic. In many Buddhist countries it has been the expected thing that every male would spend sometime within a,.monastery as part of his preparation for life. Although secularization is having an increasing effect within the Buddhist world, the monastic influenc

Issue 48.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1989. ; R~:.vn~w voa R~:.t.~c,~ous (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at St. Louis University by the Mis-souri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus: Editorial Office: 3601 Lindcll Blvd. Rm. 428; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis MO. Single copies $3.00. Subscriptions: $12.00 per year; $22.00 for two years. Other countries: for surface mail, add U.S. $5.00 per year; for airmail, add U.S. $20.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: Rl~v~'0,, ~:o~ Rl-:t.~c;ous; P.O. Box 6070: Duluth, MN 55806. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to Rt:v~t:w roa RELIGIOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. David L. Fleming, S.J. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Editor Associate Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors September/October 1989 Volume 48 Number 5 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to Rv:vt~w you R~:~.~;~otJs; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709-1193. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from Rv:\'~v:w voa Rr:~.~;~o~JS; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY I0010. PRISMS . We Christians come to know our calling to a certain kind of minis-try in the Church through our fidelity to prayer--a continuing dialogue in our relationship with God. By way of analogy, those in the vocation of married life know that the sacramental celebration of matrimony rep-resents only the start of a new relationship together with God. It will take a married lifetime of dialogue with each other and with God and of so living to make the reality of the sacrament come true. Similarly, those in the vocation of religious life signify in some way (commonly through some kind of vow-taking) that they are professing and aiming at a spe-cial relationship with God with the wholeness of their lives. Again re-ligious are well aware that vow or profession day is only the beginning of the dialoguing and of the living out of this "aimed-at" relationship. In these vocations of married and religious life, the Christian prayer of both the individual and the community (marital or religious) is a neces-sary part of the continuing dialogue which keeps alive and nourishes the particular vocation undertaken by our first responding to God's initia-tive. The call to minister in the name of Christ and officially authorized in the service of the Church also remains grounded in the prayer-dialogue. Ministry, not rooted in prayer, is no ministry at all. Good deeds done may represent admirable humanitarianism which we honor and appreciate, but we do not grace it with the identity of ministry. Min-istry flows from a consciousness of God and God's ways of acting and from a sense of responsibility in acting in the name of Christ's Body, the Church. The pervading consciousness of God and the connatural way of acting as God acts are the fruit of a prayer life, which is consistently fostered "for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health." This dialogue pei'meates and empowers our Christian life as well as our ministry whatever it may be. In this issue, we highlight two aspects of this continuing dialogue so necessary for our vocation and for ourmin!stry. The passion or fire in our Christian way of praying is reflected in the articles "The God of the Scriptures: An Invitation to Passionate Prayer" .by Anthony Wieczorek, O. Praem., "Romantic Relations with the Sacred" by Richard J. De- Maria, C.F.C., and "A Joyful Supp!ication for Justice" by A. Paul 641 642 Review for Religious, September-October 1989 Dominic, S.J. The passion--meaning self-emptying and often a sense of dying--is also a part of our Christian experience of growth in prayer; the articles "Negative Floating" by Barbara Dent and "Spiritual Dryness: Some Practical Guidelines" by Eamon Tobin give some insight into these always difficult moments. Three articles, viewing various aspects of our religious life vocation, are written within the specific prayer context of our lives. "Religious Formation: A Contemplative Realignment" by Jane Ferdon, O.P., con-siders the formation task. "Discernment and Elections in Religious In-stitutes" by Marcello De Carvalho Azevedo, S.J., focuses the very spe-cial moments of leadership choice and policy-making in religious in-stitutes. Finally, "Rituals of Death, Denial, and Refounding" by Ger-ald A. Arbuckle, S.M., reflects on the importance of religious celebrat-ing in a truly Christian manner the dying and death moments in their con-gregational life if revitalization or refounding is to occur today. In the northern hemisphere, the summer months are coming, to an end, with the traditional vacation time behind us for another year. We move on to another "work" year and whatever our ministry may be. With the help of God's grace, .we find ourselves at an opportune time to assess again how our lives, our ministries, and our prayer truly form one healthy and supportive ecological system. May our various authors in this issue contribute to our insight and give us perspective in our quest. David L. Fleming, S.J. The God of the Scriptures: An Invitation to Passionate Prayer Anthony Wieczorek, O.Praem. Father Anthony Wieczorek, O.Praem., is currently chaplain of the Sign of God Deaf Ministry office which serves the Deaf and Hearing Impaired community of the Green Bay diocese. He also directs the Theological Institute, a summer program at St. Norbert College in De Pere, Wisconsin. He continues to write a weekly article for the local diocesan newspaper. His address is St. Norbert Abbey; De Pere, Wiscon-sin 54115-2697. We all have them. Most of us have learned to control, even ignore them. But for some, they appear unasked for and when they do they are toler-ated with all the patience we have for a head cold. They are our emo-tions, our deep seated emotions, the dark and passionate side of our hu-man nature. We enjoy them when, at sports activities, we give ourselves permis-sion to act outraged or triumphant and they suit our moods. We like it when they sneak out quietly in the form of tears at the end of a touching movie. They may also try to make their presence known during prayer, but here they are often considered most distracting and least desired. And yet, if there is a time for emotion, if there is a time for passion at all, it is during prayer. Prayer is a naturally revealing activity. Ii is natural that passionate emotions should arise within us during.prayer. They are conduits to the parts of ourselves God wishes most to go. It is little wonder we should find them straining to emerge. Could it be that they are even called forth by a God eager to touch this part of ourselves so seldom shared? Unfortunately, they are the parts of ourselves we least of all like. Most often, they are corridors to the side of ourgelves we fear. They lead 643 60,4 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 into the cauldron of emotion we have not yet learned to control. We may not be really sure what lurks there but we are fairly confident that God has no part of it, that it is best shielded from God,-that what surges there is best atoned for in secret, not something to be proud of and shared openly with God. But are passionate emotions like anger and jealousy and lust called forth during times of prayer so that we can "confess" to them? Or are they summoned at God's own invitation? Can it be, might it be, that God can desire a passionate prayer as well and as much as a prayer that is con-templative, tranquil, and serene? Might it be that the God who appears ¯ throughout the pages of the Bible speaks to us best and can identify with us most through the part of ourselves we keep most hidden? The God of the Scriptures is indeed a passionate God. This article is an exploration of that theme and of the constructive relationship that exists between passion and prayer. The Passionate Nature of God Pascal was right when he said that there seemed to be two Gods: the God discussed by philosophers and the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the God of the Scriptures. Most people prefer the philosophers' God. That Being is reasonable, controlled, logical. The God of the phi-losophers thinks, plans, orders, foresees. There is, of course, a "feel-ing" side to this God too. God does, after all, feel compassion and love for creation. But those "feelings" are held well in check and are dis-pensed cooly and properly. This God seems to resemble a fine Victorian gentleman/scholar. And, very often, especially here in the Western world, that is the image we would like to have of ourselves. That is the standard and goal we set for ourselves. The point is not that this image of God is false. But is it all there is? Is it only one side of a much more complex personality? Do we, with a too exclusively philosophical model of God, lose some of God's mys-tery because we fail to pay proper attention to God's emotion and pas-sionate nature? Perhaps such a theology is no more complete than an anthropology that deliberately ignores the emotional and passionate side of human be-ing? The point of human growth is to integrate and harmonize the parts of our nature i'nto one. To ignore our emotions is to ignore half of our selves. In addition to being rational, thinking creatures, human beings also love, feel anger, jealousy, crave revenge, desire, and feel pity. We are indeed complex beings. Can we dare imagine a God who is any less? Moreover, if we are so thoroughly emotional and if we were made in The God of the Scriptures / 6t15 God's own image and likeness, what can we conclude about God? Scripture tells us that "God is love." Love is, to be sure, more than an intellectual attitude or disposition toward life. Love is an emotion. Peo-ple in love are known sometimes to do strange things, spontaneous things, unpredictable things. Or so they seem to us. But to them, fol-lowing the "logic of love," their actions have a rationality, a purpose, an order. Finding it, though, and seeing the reasoning behind such ac-tions can be almost as hard as finding the sense and reason behind some of God's actions in our lives. God is not illogical nor is God emotion-ally unstable. God is simply love. God is simply in love with us "and with ¯ all of creation. God is a Being of great and passionate emotion. That, at least, is what the Scriptures tell us. Perhaps, to beg the question a bit, that is why God chose the Jews in the first place as recorders of divine revelation. The Jews, and all Near Eastern people for that matter, were extremely emotional and passionate people. Check the papers--they still are. But if you were God, would you have chosen them to write the record of your revelation? Many people would probably have preferred the Greeks. Their philo-sophical bent would more likely have appealed to us. And indeed, they would probably have done an admirable job at revealing God's mind. But could they have matched the Jewish brilliance for revealing God's heart? The Jewish passion for life was a most fitting medium for the man-ner of God's message. For the Scriptures reveal in emotional and pas-sionate imagery and terms the heart as well as the mind of God. Maybe, we argue, the Jewish people were simply transferring their own emotional nature onto God and that God no more has passionate feel-ings than God has legs withwhich to walk around in the garden of Eden. Yet, even though they were not meant to be read literally, all the images and words do reveal and communicate something about God. To glean this, though, the Scriptures must be read with an open mind and heart. God's Emotional Involvement in Life What do the Scriptures tell us about God? The Bible reveals a God who is very much alive and near. The biblical God does not observe the glories and follies of creation from afar. This is not a God who aloofly administri~tes creation and human history. Rather, this is a God who min-isters, to it and within it. The God of the Bible is pastorally involved in human life. We know that because the Scriptures reveal a God who is emotionally involved in human life. There are levels and degrees of involvement in community, in fam-ily, in politics, in everything regarding life. One criterion for measuring 646 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 or determining the depth of involvement is the amount of emotional in-vestment shown. In community living, for example, it is easy enough to state one's involvement in community affairs. One may even show up at community meetings and functions. But does that person's words and presence communicate an active involvement or a benign disinterest? Does body language alone, for instance, tell the others present that, "I am here to observe. Really, I couldn't care less what happens. It is some-what interesting, even humorous though. Just continue and pretend I'm not here." No words may communicate that. But the message is made, communicated through posture, through sleepy eyes and flacid facial e~- pression. On the other hand is the person very much involved in the pro-ceedings. Like the other, thi~ person says not a word. Yet through all the same means the message communicated is much different. This per-son exhibits interest through a tense body, through a face that while si-lent is red with anger or aglow with satisfaction. The eyes hold an inter-est, the palms sweat, a leg fidgets nervously. This person is truly and pastorally present and alive. Why? Because the person is visibly emo-tionally involved. And that is what we want from each other and from God. Similarly, why do we become upset with the "professional" pastor who runs the office well and administrates the parish efficiently but who cannot feel his people's pain, who cannot rejoice at someone's birth or mourn at another's death? Why do we feel cheated? Why does the per-son seem pastorally out of touch and somehow less a priest than the pas-tor who is able and willing to be emotionally present to the people? Why does the emotionally uninvested pastor seem to communicate less God's presence? Why do we feel disappointed? For what reason do we feel we should be able to expect and receive more? All of this speaks to an image or a set of expectations we have about God. Because God cares, God's ministers should also care. Because God is able to and does feel with the people, so should God's priests and pas-toral workers. We want and need to feel God present in our lives and feel cheated by those who serve in God's name if somehow we cannot sense from them a deeper presence of God than the merely physical. We want and feel a right to expect an emotional presence and involvement. We want our pastoral workers to be passionately present and active. We want and expect that because we feel God is passionately present and ac-tive. But why? Does that expectation and feeling originate within us alone? Or is that the image Of God that is mysteriously and boldly com- The God of the Scriptures /647 municated through almost every page of the Bible? Indeed, God is most emotionally present and involved in the lives of the Jewish people. That is true from exodus to exile, from restoration through resurrection. God communicates through the Scriptures a presence and involvement that is intensely passionate. The Passionate God of the Prophets Nowhere is this more evident than in the writings of the prophets. Within the prophetic books we see a picture of a God at wits' end. The people had rebelled from God's love and were running headlong toward destruction. We hear a response from God that is the emotional equal of what is politically, socially, and spiritually at stake. Read with the emotion befitting the texts Amos 8:4-8 or 4:!-3 or Hosea'l !:1-11 or Jeremiah 7:i-20 or Isaiah 54:78 or any of the other prophets, and you find the words of a person on the edge, the words of a person who is not at all detached or even mildly interested. In those words and so many others we receive a message of a God filled with pas-sion for the welfare of his people, a God who is truly emotionally in-volved in the life, past and future, of his people. If there is anger in God's words, it is the anger of a parent or lover, the passion of someone who cares tremendously about another. It is an anger born of frustration and love. Who has been in love without feel-ing anger? Love is a powerful emotion that opens us up to other equally powerful feelings. And what of the energy invested in both love and an-ger? Passion has a high price in emotional energy that is paid only by those truly sincere about what they feel. The quality and quantity of God's emotion so naked and strong throughout the prophets is testimony to the sincerity of God's passionate love. Moreover, it is a passion and sincerity that God expects in return. Love that is deep and intense expects a return in kind. One of our ways of showing love is through our prayer, both private and liturgical. Note, then, in Isaiah I:11-16 and Amos 5:21-25 and Jeremiah 7:21-28, the re-action of God to worship that is liturgically correct but void of sincerity and feeling. God expects a worship from the heart, a worship that is a reflection of our love. To be proper and true to the rubrics is not enough, not even the most important thing. What God seeks is what God gives, a prayer that is emotionally sincere. What God "hates" and "detests," what is "loathsome" to God is prayer empty of affect. That does not mean that worship must be a wild and ecstatic affair. However, it must be sincere; it must reveal an authentic human warmth. Worship, prayer, is more than so many words or lack of them. We can 648 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 meditate quite correctly and all without opening our hearts in love. A prayer that is emotionally fl~t.and cold is the sacrifice displeasing to God. Perhaps that is why Paul tells.us that because "we-do, not know how to pray as we ought, the Spirit makes intercession f~or us with groanings that cannot be-expressed in speech" (Rm 8:26). That is an invitation to pray our feelings, to pray from and with our emotions. That is what God asks for and longs to share, for it is that which is most truly in our hearts. The Spirit helps us to raise what we are feeling in prayer, even if it can be expressed in no other way than by a groan. Since we are to live as we pray, God expects from us a life that is emotionally honest and open. How often we repress our feelings and hold in check our passion. We refuse to allow ourselves to feel and that pre-vents us from being as effective and compassionate as Jesus was and calls us to be. The "cry of the poor" is too painful to hear so we learn to close to the poor not only our ears but also our hearts. We dull our abil-ity and willingness to feel and so lose a major motivating force behind Christian action. Pity is not the issue here, rather compassion and jus-tice. Perhaps it was because Jesus was a man of such strong emotions that he was as compassionate and sensitive as the Scriptures say. Yet not only did Jesus have strong feelings, he was willing to live with them and feel them. Because he did not repress what he felt but lived what he felt he could be moved enough to touch and heal the leper (Mk 1:41) and raise the widow's son (Lk 7:11-17). If Jesus was the troublemaker and law-breaker the Pharisees claimed, it was because he allowed his emotions to so move his charity and inspire his faith that he saw not simply the law but the people the law did not and could not serve. God's Call for a Passionate Faith Jesus' emotion is most manifest in his faith. Many people were raised to believe that faith is something we do with our minds, that faith is an intellectual act of agreement or obedience to a tradition or set of beliefs. While it may be that, it is not only that. This is clear from the way Jesus lived and how he believed. For Jesus, faith was an emotion that gripped not only his mind, but his heart and body as well. Oftentimes one emotion is held in check by another. A boy, for in-stance, may want to introduce himself to a girl. The "love" he feels for her is held in check, though, by his "fear" of being rejected. He de-cides to say nothing. Fear has overruled his young love. Similarly, a per-son may feel inclined to speak out on a justice issue. That person too feels fear. But this time the person's convictions on the matter, the per- The God of the Scriptures / 649 son's belief, is the stronger of the two and bids the person to speak out. Here faith overruled fear. All of us know what fear is, all of us have felt it. Reflect for a mo-ment what happens when you feel fear. The mind freezes, it becomes difficult or even impossible to think. The entire body is also affected. Knees shake, palms sweat, the mouth runs dry. If the fear is sharp enough we may even close our eyes and prefer to block out the cause of our fear. Fear, to be sure, is a powerful emotion. It would require, then, an equally powerful emotion to counter it. Only two emotions give us the courage to overcome fear: love and faith--although the two are intimately related. A mother stands terrified at the sight of her burning home when she hears the cry of her child from within. Her fear of the flames and smoke cause her to stand for a mo-ment paralyzed until love for her child overpowers the fear and forces her in to rescue him. Jeremiah the prophet stands equally terrified be-fore the people gathered at the Temple. He too, however, hears--or rather feels--an inner voice, the call of God bidding him to speak in God's name. For a moment his fear prevails before the faith within his heart overwhelms it and causes him to cry out. . How many of us have had our faith compromised by fear? By clos-ing ourselves to our feelings, by repressing our emotions, we have been eliminating a source of strength that could well empower our faith to ri-val that of tl~e prophets. If our faith is solely intellectual it is but half, at best, of what it could be. Faith is authentic when it flows from our hearts, when it flows from our love for God. Jeremiah, for example, and Jesus after him, may have seemed like people without faith because they spoke against the traditions and cus-toms of the people. They could rightly be asked, "Have you no faith, Jeremiah, in the Temple and the promise God made to dwell in it always? Why is it so hard for you to have faith in what our traditions teach.? Why can't you agree with them?" Faith in this sense is an act of the intellect. But for Jeremiah, for the other prophets, and for Jesus, faith was an act of love; its motive force was an intuition of God's abiding presence within. They felt God's love and returned it as they could (that is, they believed) and it was that faith in God's love that enabled them to stand up and say what their hearts could not deny. The love they felt empowered them, gave their faith the spirit of cour-age. All of us are given the gift of that love. All of us have within our-selves the courage to truly use our faith. But so often in closing ourselves to our emotions, in denying them, we deny ourselves the grace, the love, Review for Religious, September-October 1989 that gives us the courage to truly believe. Jesus and the prophets before him were not ashamed of their emotions. Indeed, they prayed with them (Jeremiah's lamentations, for example) by bringing them before God in-stead of hiding them in the dark recesses of their spirits. By so doing, they provide an example for all us of authentic living and prayer. Praying with our Emotions Oddly enough, it is the emotion of fear that most inhibits us from bringing our.other emotions to prayer. As mentioned earlier, prayer is a naturally revealing activity. In prayer, the love and union we share with God is revealed and made known to us. We may receive the revelation of truths and intuitions about questions and problems we may have, as well as insights into God and ourselves. It is this that often scares us into emotional and spiritual repression. In the quiet, centering communion of prayer with God, we forget to maintain many of the blocks and barriers we place between our conscious selves and our more disquieting emotions. Suddenly and quite unexpect-edly we can find the composure of our prayer compromised by unwel-comed feelings. The person whose thoughts continue to center upon feel-ings of passion for a lover, the religious whose heart is suddenly filled with anger and resentment toward a superior, the person who becomes aware of his or her jealousy and envy--all of these people find the re-warding calm of prayer ruined by the onslaught of emotions. In each of these cases, whether or not prayer has been ruined de-pends upon whose agenda is being followed. Prayer is a dialogue. How-ever, especially with meditation, prayer can become a monologue of si-lence. Our meditation can be but another way of saying, "Listen God, there are just some things I'd sooner not think about. Why don't we just sit here quietly and ignore them together." Our prayer agenda calls for some peace and quiet, a bit of reprieve, a break in the action of confron-tation. Yet we find ourselves continually pestered by thoughts and feel-ings we've decided not to share. Might it be, however, that their contin-ual interruption is an effort on God's part to make it part of our prayer? Might God have an agenda too? And might that agenda include the very feelings we are so desperate to ignore? It might do well, then, since prayer is a dialogue, to "ask" God about what should be shared. One way of doing so is by beginning our prayer with a bit of soul searching journaling. We might record what and how we are feeling, any significant encounters we have had with peo-ple, good and bad. The point is not to dwell on any of them. Rather we acknowledge what is already inside of us. We acknowledge it to God and The God of the Scriptures / 651 to ourselves. Then, having done that, we set it aside and open ourselves to God. Yet, the very action of having been honest with ourselves about what we arefeeling has already opened the doors to our deepest selves to God. We have laid everything bare and have effectively told God, "Well, now that you know, what do you say?" Then if our prayer is quiet, perhaps God is saying, "Let it rest for now," and so we should. If, however, we find the emotions returning, perhaps we should pay them some prayerful attention. It is one matter to continually harp on a feeling and another tO at-tend to one that finds its way to the surface. Yet it is here that fear can overcome all else and totally inhibit our communion with God, not to mention any communion with ourselves. We are afraid of what may come if we allow our emotions to flow. We are afraid of what God may think if we stood before God with emotions bare. Perhaps most of all, we are afraid of what we would have to admit about ourselves if we al-lowed our spiritual vision to focus upon our feelings. Especially in times of stress, when we need prayer most, we are most reluctant, most afraid to pray because the emotions we so fear are so close to surface, so hard to dispel. In such cases the fear and shame we so strongly feel should be the opening movement of our prayer. But here is the test. Have we the faith to share what we fear? Here we become the shy person struggling to talk to a friend. Here we become the mother rooted in fear or stirred by love into action. Here we find the revelation, not of God but of ourselves, that prayer so powerfully conveys. Here we find a truth about ourselves. Prayer is a dialogue. Has God been speaking, shouting through hands pressed tight against our ears, trying to get through? Summary We can repress our prayer and weaken our faith because we are un-willing to face the passion of our own emotions. Why? Is it God's rejec-tion or wrath that we fear or is it facing the truth about ourselves? Some people are simply ashamed that they are emotional people at all. Some-where many of us have learned that we should be rational at the expense of being emotional. Emotions are something to master, signs of weak-ness, occasions for sin. To be holy is to be emotionally controlled. Pei-haps. To be sure, some emotions need to be held in check. Some need to be confessed. But not all. Our emotions are occasions for grace, provided we let our God work through them. They can be conduits leading to deeper prayer. They can be the means for facing and overcoming our fear of living. For indeed, 652 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 without emotions we are less than human. We were made in the image and likeness of a living, feeling God who is revealed in the pages of Scrip-ture as a truly passionate lover, a God who, for example, is quite honest about being "jealous." We were made to have feelings and to use our emotions to feel and act alive. If Jesus was not ashamed of the force of his emotions, why should we? As Christians we are called to become fully alive. That means learn-ing to live with and harness our emotions. Truly, our emotions are gifts from God, gifts to be enjoyed, gifts for which we can be grateful. But before any of that can happen, our emotions must first be accepted. The Dancer Is falling in love with you autumn leaves swirling in the wind, fish swimming in the flooded ,,;hallows after a heavy rainfall? Is this love a meditative symphony, where the listener is impelled to pause, be attentive to the secret voice talking with his heart? Is this love a walk without fear into the forest of Solitude, where I go to plant my tree of hope? Is this love an ancient la Jota, sometimes graceful and slow, at other moments fast and exciting? How do I overcome my reluctance? Become like David, who danced before the Lord because it was pleasing to him? Brother Richard Heatley, F.S.C. De La Salle Centre 45 Oaklands Avenue Toronoto, Ontario M4V 2E4, Canada Romantic Relations with the Sacred Richard J. DeMaria, C.F.C. Brother Richard DeMaria, C.F.C., currently serves as Executive Vice President and the Vice President for Academic Affairs at lona College. His address is lona Col-lege; New Rochelle, New York 10801. In the recent, surprisingly successful film, Th~rOse, based on the life of St. Th6r~se of Lisieux, there is a scene that has remained with me for months. Th6r~se's sister visits her during what was to be a terminal ill-ness, and noticing that Th6r~se has pinned a small crucifix to her pil-low, observes: "So you two are back together again." To which, as I recall it, Th6r~se blushes and nods in agreement. The audience--a New York City audience--to my amazement did not laugh here or at any time during a movie which portrayed Th6r~se as a woman engaged in a ro-mantic relationship with Jesus, a relationship characterized by falling outs, jealousies, reunions, disagreements, and coquetry. And by love. And by passion. The film places Th6r~se in a very old tradition of spirituality, a tra-dition which uses the language and ways of romantic love to describe a person's interaction with the sacred. The romantic poem "The Song of Songs" comes immediately to mind: the longing of a bride for her bride-groom is used as an image of the human experience with the sacred. Ap-parently that image was found sufficiently apt among the Hebrew peo-ple for the poem to be included and preserved in its canon of sacred litera-ture. We find in other religions similar spiritualities linking sexual im-agery and prayer, the link sometimes explicitly recognized and cele-brated, at other times, we assume, camouflaged and unrecognized but fairly apparent to those who read between lines. As R. Zaehner, the Oxford authority on mysticism, observes: 653 654 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 There is no point at all blinking at the fact that the raptures of the theis-tic mystic are closely akin to the transports of sexual union, the soul play-ing the part of the female and (~od appearing as the male. ~ In the history of religion, one finds many spiritualities that approach life as if there were two lovers involved. In Hinduism, one finds among the different paths by which one can yoke himself or herself to God, the path of bhakti in which one takes on the Lord as lover. Kabir, the fif-teenth- century Indian mystic, as translated by Bly, uses the term "the Guest" to name the inner lover: My body and my mind are in depression because you are not with me. How much I love you and want you in. my house! When 1 hear people describe me as your bride I look sideways ashamed, Because I know that far inside us we have never met. Then what is this love of mine? I don't really care about food, I don't really care about sleep, I am restless indoors and outdoors. The bride wants her lover as much as a thirsty man wants water. And how will I find someone who will take a message to the Guest from me? How restless Kabir is all the time! How much he wants to see the Guest!z The existence of a relationship between mysticism and sexuality is clear and widespread in the historical record. The question is: how shall we interpret and understand the presence of romaritic and sexual lan-guage in religious writing? More to the point are the following questions: Is it possible to carry on a love relationship with an invisible, non-human lover? Does this spirituality find any basis in the way things are? Is there someone there to love? Is this use of romantic language healthy? Unless we at least advert to these questions from the outset, they stand as obstacles to our ability to approach this tradition with openness. There are many analysts who interpret experiences of romantic spiri-tuality as situations in which sexual energy, having been denied its usual outlet, finds a (distorted) outlet in the religious arena. Accordingly, mys-ticism is in reality sexual energy that is misdirected. Although this sub-limation is usually unrecognized by the person involved, its true nature can be readily recognized by the perceptive observer. In sum, people in-volved in religious romanticism are victims of misplaced energy; their lives are based upon an unreal perception of the way things are. Other analysts suggest that the situation is quite the opposite: a ba-sic drive, a basic need within humans, is for union with the transcendent. Romantic Relations with the Sacred / 655 According to this theory, the mystic is a person who is responding quite directly to this basic drive. Other humans respond to this drive by en-gaging themselves in sexual, romantic relationships with other humans. This is a valid way of fulfilling this need. The power of human, inter-personal sexuality, and the way that relationship is experienced and de-scribed, derive from the more basic desire of the human to interact with the sacred. Because the inter-human sexual experience is one form of the more general mystical experience, it should not surprise us that the lan-guage of human love and the language of mystical 10ve are quite simi-lar. Alan W. Watts, in Myth and Ritual in Christianity makes the fol-lowing observation: But a sexually self-conscious culture such as our own must beware of its natural tendency to see religion as a symbolizing of sex, for to sexu-ally uncomplicated people it has always been obvious that sex is a sym-bol of religion. That is to say, the ecstatic self-abandonment of nuptial love is the average man's nearest approach to the selfless state of mys-tical and metaphysical experience. For this reason the act of love is the easiest and most readily intelligible illustration of what it is like to be in "union with God," to live the eternal life, free from self and time.3 Perhaps it will never be possible to prove convincingly which of these two theories is true. Some look to an epistemology which concen-trates its attention not on questions about the way things are but rather on questions about what ways work. Such an approach considers a the-ory to be true, or a path to be true, when it works. Pragmatic approaches to understanding our lives can reflect a careless and shallow attitude about truth, but not necessarily so. The form of pragmatism discussed here, recognizing the complexity of the human psyche and the mystery of the sacred, and recognizing the inability of the human mind to under-stand these with any clarity, reasons that if a particular construct or the-ory works, it works because it approximates the way things are. This is an epistemology often used in the physical sciences. Consider, for ex-ample, the solar system model of the atom. No one has seen an atom. Serious scientists do not think that the atom is composed of electrons, circling a nucleus of neutrons and protons, like a solar system. Scien-tists, however, have used the construct of a solar system when thinking about the atom, because when they have followed out the implications of that model, they have been able to explain many past experiences (ex-periments). And, even more importantly, when they devised new experi-ments and applications suggested by the model, these led to important new discoveries. Science has done well, then, to think of the atom as if 656 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 it were a solar system. Even if the atom is not a solar system, the solar system picture predicts how the atom will work. And it is not unreason-able to conclude from this that in many ways the solar system model ap-proximates the reality of the atom. In sum, while recognizing that a con-struct is an imagined picture, a person follows it because she believes that it will lead her close to the way things are. Against the background of this epistemology, we can now turn our attention to those paths in which a person is involved in a relationship with a person who is not physically present but who is perceived to be real, important, and worthy of ~ittention; a relationship which according to the person herself and according to observers, gives direction and strength. Whether the other is perceived as guru, teacher, patron, guide, angel, patron saint, or--as in the particular spirituality we are discuss-ing-- as the romantically loved one, the relationship has a real effect upon the growth and behavior of the participant. In his play Big Shot, Jack Gelber portrays the positive, powerful influence which two "imagi-nary" persons--a wise, aged prophetic man, and a seductive woman-- have upon a young man's ability to make decisions about his life and to move toward maturity. (Interestingly, these two visitors never appear to-gether in the boy's thoughts; the appearance of one signals the exit of the other. At the play's end, however, they interact with one another and exit together, perhaps symbolizing something of an integration of the re-ligious and the sexual in his consciousness.) According to what was said above, one should evaluate the tradition of romantic spirituality by asking: What happens to persons when they act as if there were an inner sacred person there? Does it lead to desir-able ends? In this approach one judges a religious path worth consider-ing if it has "worked" for many people, in many religions, in many dif-ferent ages. What is meant by "worked"? The validity of this or any path is established by its ability to lead practitioners into that special con-sciousness which is called "religious." In the Christian faith, people in that consciousness are said to be in the state of sanctifying grace and ex-hibit characteristics such as love, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, trustfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Ga 5:22). History attests that the path of devotion, of romantic love, is a path that has led many to that consciousness; the way works. The seeker of God who utilizes the con-struct of romantic love does not need to know for certain whether there is a real person with whom she can interact in love. She does know that when she acts as if there were such a person, wonderful things do hap-pen. In Bhakti Yoga, the author writes: Romantic Relations with the Sacred / 657 All our attitudes, moral or emotional, as well as religious are due to the objects of our consciousness: the things which we believe to exist whether really or ideally along with ourselves. Such objects may be pre-sent to our senses or they may be present to our thought; in either case they elicit from us a reaction and the reaction due to things of thought is notoriously in many cases as strong as that due to sensible presences. It may even be stronger . 4 How does one follow this path? By undertaking the same practices which a man or woman utilizes in establishing a love relationship with a human being. By conversing. By sharing feelings. By trying to please. By actions of union. By admiration. By efforts to merge into one an-other. By writing poems of love. By singing songs of love. By making sacrifices. By exchanging gifts. By establishing rituals, special places, and special times. By secrets shared. By anger expressed. And by hurts told. By arguing. By compromising. How does one advise or counsel a person on this path? As one would advise or counsel a person struggling with any experience of love. The spiritual director will help him to recognize the stages of love. The di-rector will lead her to expect periods of doubt, of loneliness, of seeming neglect, of loss of attraction--the dark nights of the soul. He must be assisted in learning the art of conversation, and especially the art of lis-tening. (For let there be no doubt about it: the person does experience conversation, responses and answers that surprise by their unexpected-ness. Where do these answers come from? Suffice it to say that when questions are asked of this inner lover, this inner guest,' one "hears" answers.) The director will need to counsel the practitioner about the im-portance of fidelity, to help recall the good times in moments of dark-ness, and to point her to better times ahead. The person engaged in this path does experience another actor in his life. Outside observers may wish to interpret this experience as the ef-fects of the "alter ego," or the "subconscious," or the "repressed self." These interpretations should not be allowed to discourage the lover, if forhim the experience of this other is real, and if the effects of carrying out a relationship of love with that "person" are beneficial and if they are leading her into grace. This path does not work for everyone. In New Wineskins,5 Sandra Schneiders observes that in earlier times it was assumed that all women entering into the religious life would find in this romantic spirituality a comfortable and effective path. Women religious, on their day of pro-fession, came to the altar dressed as brides, as the choir sang "Veni Review for Religious, September-October 1989 Sponsa Christi," in a ceremony that was designed to imitate in many ways that of a marriage. Schneiders suggests that in fact many Sisters did not find this path to be effective for them. For many, it was a kind of play.acting, which in later years---especially if they were influenced by Freudian thinking--they came to regard as a childish effort to subli-mate energies better redirected in other ways. Today, almost all traces of this bridal spirituality have been removed from the rituals and from the language of contemporary religious women. Women who have en-tered religious life in recent years may not even be aware of this spiritu-ality. By way of conclusion, two questions about this path of spirituality suggest themselves. First, in this relationship, does the soul always take the role of the feminine to the masculine God, a role in which the hu-man seeks to be filled, empowered, or taken over by the other? The male poet, Kabir, cited before, who wrote in a culture which knew of both male and female gods, always--at least in translation--describes him-self as feminine in relationship to the sacred. Listen to the following poem: I played for ten years with the girls of my own age, but now I am sud-denly in fehr. I am on the way up some stairs--they are high. Yet I have to give up my fears if I want to take part in this love. I have to let go of the protective clothes and meet him with the whole length of my body. My eyes will have to be the love candles this time. Kabir says: Men and women in love will understand this poem. If what you feel for the holy one is not desire, then what's the use of dressing with such care, and spending so much time making your eyelids dark.6 Can one approach the sacred as masculine? Or must one utilize the feminine side (the anima) in one's relationship with the sacred (assum-ing of course that every person, regardless of gender, is both animus and anima)? And if this is true, will this path of spirituality come more natu-rally to women than to men? Or, again if it is true, would the fact that a person has a gay or lesbian orientation affect the attractiveness and ef-fectiveness of this spirituality? A second questign.: what (if any) is the connection between this spousal spirituality and celibacy? Clearly, spousal spirituality does ap-peal and does work for non-celibates as well as celibates. Does celibacy enable one to pursue this path more quickly or more deeply? Does the fact that one is not pursuing the path of romantic human love dispose one Romantic Relations with the Sacred / 659 toward this path more urgently? Or, to take the quite opposite position, would familiarity and experience with human romantic love give one the lexicon and the understandings that enable one to move more quickly into this more interior love? To conclude: the spiritual path of romantic relationships with the sa-cred has been neglected in recent years, perhaps because twentieth-century psychology has called into question so many of the foundations upon which it was based. There is, however, a way of understanding our ways of knowing, consonant with contemporary science, which gives 'permission' to those so attracted to follow this path, to see whether it leads them into grace. While the path will not attract, nor work for, eve-ryone, a knowledge of its history and dynamics should be made avail-able to those who are searching for ways into the world of the sacred. NOTES ~ R.C. Zaehner, Mysticism, Sacred and Profane, (New York, 1961), p. 151. 2 Robert Bly, trans., The Kabir Book, (Boston, 1977), p. 20. 3 Alan W. Watts, Myth and Ritual in Christianity, (Boston, 1968), p. 104. 4 "Bhikshu," Bhakti Yoga, (Chicago, 1930), p. 19. 5 Sandra Schneiders, New Wineskins, Re-imagining Religious Life Today, (New York, !986), p. 116. 6 Bly, p. 42. Negative Floating Barbara Dent Barbara Dent, mother and grandmother, has been for eigthteen years a Secular Carme-lite. She published "The Floating Prayer" in our issue of March/April 1988. The current article is a part of a book-in-process called Floating in Endless Love. She may be addressed at Poustinia; 7A Cromwell Place; Pukekohe, New Zealand. In this article I use the word "floating" to indicate the kind of detach-ment and freedom that is attained once we have ascended a certain dis-tance up the nada path. When I write of "floating in endless love," 1 mean the traditional self-abandonment to divine providence as exemplified by holy people of any age, and written about by such recognized saints as Teresa, John of the Cross, Francis de Sales, Jane Frances de Chantal, Caussade, Th~r~se. Our Lady is, of course, the supreme exemplar, and her "Be it done unto me according to your word," a succinct summary of the doc-trine. Divine providence is God's endless love. It had no beginning and will never have an end. It is conterminous with his Being and expresses itself throughout his creation. When he made us in his own image, he gave us the ability to be ef-fortlessly immersed in this love, borne along in the currents and eddies of its movement in time and space, as it ordained and controlled the cir-cumstances of our lives, and we rejoiced in its faultless wisdom and ten-derness. At that beginning-time we had our Creator's discerning Spirit within us, and joyfully cooperated with the process of floating in the divine will, for through it the perfection of his love for us expressed itself, and we were fully open and receptive to it. We were in the state of innocence, which means single-mindedness and wholeness of heart. 660 Negative Floating / 66"1 Then came the "aboriginal catastrophe"--in one, or many, of a num-ber of possible forms. Its basic effect was to confuse, divide, and mis-lead us about the nature of our relationship with our Master. We were, and are, no longer in that original state of love-union's positive, effort-less floating. Instead, we are too often thrashing about in protest at being in the water at all. We persist in struggling to reach some imaginary shore, strik-ing out against the current, gulping water, feeling terrified that we are drowning, pushing away Love's hand held out to draw us to safety, and generally being at odds with our spiritual environment. Our innocence lost, we have become acquainted with sin--actual or potential, deliberate or involuntary. Floating in endless love does not any longer seem to be the obvious, healthy, joyous thing for us to do. We have lost the art, and have to be taught all over again by grace. And because we no longer learn the mys-teries of God effortlessly through direct infusion, the Spirit's modes of teaching us often register on us as nay-saying, destructive, painful, and incomprehensible. This is because God's endless love flowing into us is constantly encountering obstacles of self-love and self-will within us. These cause the flow to be interrupted, dammed up, diverted, and im-peded in numberless ways. We now have to re-learn what we were fashioned to know without even thinking about it. This learning is painful and arduous, and regis-ters on us as a state of negative floating. It entails erasure of all those obstacles against floating--whether personally manufactured, handed on to us by our families and social milieu, or inherited and buried so deeply in our mysterious inner being that we shall never even catch sight of them, let alone drag them up and free ourselves from them, unless the Spirit helps us in a very special way. We are weighted down so that we are more likely to sink to the ocean bed than to float in delight in the surface currents of God's purpose, rev-elling in their effortless, exact progress towards our ultimate fulfillment in him. Positive and negative floating are part of the normal cycle of conso-lation and desolation in the spiritual life. If we persevere in floating in God's loving purpose for us, there comes a time when, just as his crea- ¯ tive energy evolved birds out of fish, he somehow dispenses altogether with the metaphorical liquid element in order to lift us up so high in the Spirit that we are suspended in midair. We usually think of such suspension as bodily levitation and miracu- 662 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 IOUS. But the essence of free-floating in the atmosphere, metaphorically speaking, is entirely spiritual and interior, a flight of the spirit that usu-ally has no physical, exterior signs at all. It is the result of an opening up to God's love that on our part includes the complete abandonment of our whole selves to his usage, and on his part such lavish infusion of his grace that its energy elevates us temporarily into his own Being. This is the ultimate in positive floating. It mysteriously and paradoxi-cally also includes the ultimate in negative floating, for in order to give ourselves up to it, we need to have renounced all the not-God elements so that there is now nothing at all in us or our lives opposing his desire to take full possession of us. God is non-corporeal. When this moment of total possession takes place, he draws up our non-corporeal spirit to merge with his own. This merging, can be accomplished in both, or either, of the positive and nega-tive floating states. After about six months of intensely positive floating immediately af-ter my reception into the Church in 1956, I was gradually translated into the negative floating state and remained there without any remission for nearly twelve years. During my conversion year, 1955, I had already learnt to enter Christ's passion with him by uniting my personal suffering with his in Gethsemane and throughout the various aspects of his passion, especially his cross-carrying and crucifixion. At one particular time in 1958 when I vividly experienced what I came to call the crucifixion of my heart, something extra happened within me that I could at the time define only as "entombment." Yet the crucifixion did not cease. I was somehow still on the cross with Christ even while I was lying dead with him in the cave tomb's cold darkness. I cannot explain how this was. I only know it happened, and was spiritually and interiorily real in an agonizing way. I think I was able to endure these years of intensely negative float-ing only because, during most of them, I was fully occupied being a daily Mass-goer, solo mother, housekeeper, teacher, breadwinner, writer, and student. There was not much opportunity for what my mother disparag-ingly used to call "navel-gazing"--adding, in exasperation, "Why don't you go out and have a good game of tennis!" In spite of immersion in an undoubtedly and unavoidably active life (my form of a good game of tennis!), I yet received insights from time to time that infused some sense into the non-sense of my relationship Negative Floating / 663 with God. For this was where the nonsense, the absurdity, occurred. My rela-tionship with Jesus in his incarnational work of suffering redeemer and crucified Lord made very good sense to me, and gave me the courage to go on enduring. It was from God and his ways that the conundrum originated. Once more he had become for me the "cruel, sadistic mon-ster" who, during the early war years, had caused my rejection of my personal and inadequate version of the Christian religion. One of the key insights I received in the earlier of these negative float-ing years of the 1960s came about as follows. I can visualize clearly where it happened, just as I can vividly recall .where other significant, instant comprehensions occurred, for example, those about "the abyss of corruption" and the self-love involved in my mechanism of setting out to "fascinate" certain people. Such instant dis-cernments come to me like a crystal globe enclosing the truth, and put whole and clear in my mind all at once. The experience is completely different from arriving at a similar conclusion by the laborious process - of ratiocination. It is a matier of immediate comprehension received as a whole and in passivity. In fact, in a floating state, as it were. On this particular occasion I was sitting one morning at the desk in the home of my eldest daughter and her husband, alone in the house ex-cept for a sleeping child. Then in one instant the insight came whole-- just like a very bright light being turned on in my mind, then extin-guished almost immediately, yet leaving behind it the vivid impression of a particular mystery made plain in its illumination. In this case, I "understood" what caused Jesus to cry out, "My God, my God, why have you rejected me?" Just as I had become one with him in other aspects of his passion at various times, now I had become one with him in his cry of derelic-tion. His cry was one with the cry of my own heart to an alien, absentee God, whose face was turned away from me in contempt. Jesus' despair-ing question was to do with his having consented to be "made sin" for us. This was the central point-of the illumination given me. I had bought my Knox bible in 1956 and used it until I obtained the Jerusalem version in 1969. The texts I have marked in the Knox were the ones that had very special meaning for me personally during these darkest years of the cry of dereliction. I have underlined, "Christ never knew sin, and God made him into sin for us, so that in him we might be turned into the holiness of God" (2 Co 5:21). I "saw" that sin was absolutely abhorrent to and automatically re- 664 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 pudiated by God because it was the antithesis of his own unblemished holiness and purity. "God was in Christ, reconciling the world to him-self, establishing in our hearts his message of reconciliation, instead of holding men to account for their sins" (2 Co 5: 19), and "In Christ the whole plenitude of Deity is embodied." Hanging on the cross, dying for us, "made sin," Jesus, though God himself, consented to be relegated in his manhood to the furthest possi-ble distance from God--as f~ir as pure sin must be, of its nature, dis-tanced from pure holiness. It must have been the most elemental, cata-clysmic, schizoid split of all time. In and through this alienation Jesus endured, "the world"--all of us sinners of all time--could be "reconciled" to God instead of being eternally severed from him in self-induced banishment. In effect, Jesus willed to go through the experience of damnation as our proxy, as vic-tim instead of us. This meant knowing God only through the aching void of his ab-sence; submitting to the punitive action of the total recoil of pure holi-ness from pure unholiness; being invaded by a sense of rejection so ab-solute as to know what the hell-state meant, and to be engulfed in it. There is impenetrable mystery here, a paradox so extreme that the human mind cannot encompass it. How could Christ, in whom "the whole plenitude of Deity" remained unimpaired, yet experience himself as "the totality of sin" rejected by that Deity? The how, the mystery, is beyond our human comprehension. The paradox is mind-blowing. I cannot explain fully what I "saw" in the illumination. At the time, I knew it without intellectual explication. This came later, as I meditated upon what I had received, and thought more about what Paul said, out of what was obviously his own personal experience and given insight. Enli/~htenments about this mystery hidden within Christ's dereliction cry have continued to come spasmodically to me up to this present time. "All alike have sinned, all alike are unworthy of God's praise. And justification comes to us as a free gift from his grace, through our re-demption in Christ Jesus. God has offered him to us as a means of rec-onciliation, in virtue of faith, ransoming us with his blood" (Rm 3:23- 25). I had already understood how the solidarity of the human race was such that the salvation or damnation of any one of us must involve and concern all of us. In pouring out in his shed blood his "free gift of grace" for us, Jesus excluded no one, for none of us is sinless. We are all inevitably born programmed for possible disaster by the racial accu- Negative Floating mulation of wrong turnings made while trying to reach a destination whose nature and location we are confused about. Our tendency to get lost is in our genes. ~ "In sin my mother conceived me," is not a reference to the sexual act as such, but to the fact that the whole of humanity is in a state of at least partial alienation from God and can be reconciled only through Christ. Jesus entered the furthest reaches of this alienation when, as the vic-tim for our sins, he uttered his cry of dereliction on the cross. I saw in my moment of illumination that, once I had in 1957 told God he could have me as a victim for the salvation of souls (if he wanted me), I had implicitly consented to enter in some way into this dereliction of Jesus, and keep him company. At the same time, I was not certain God had accepted my offer, for no one had yet confirmed that I was indeed a victim, and I was not to have that assurance for several years yet. It was only then that everything fitted together coherently. But I did see in that moment of revelation that here was the meaning and purpose of the annihilating experience of my-self as spurned and rejected by God, even while at the same time, in my will, I refused to let go of him, and clung on with all my strength. Much later, I realized that even while God "rejected" me, he gave me that very grace I needed to cling tenaciously to him. At the same time, the illumination did not bring me any comforting reassurance, for I could not really believe it applied to me. This may seem a contradiction, but the grace of comfort is an extra grace, and for those years of torment God chose to withhold it from me, no matter what insights he gave my intellect. That I already had a well-established, deep-seated rejection syn-drome as part of my emotional makeup made it simpler and easier for all of this to happen. Grace had only to activate and utilize what was al-ready there, so deeply rooted in my inner being. I believe that God did this in order to use me for others as I had pleaded with him to do. In the terms I have since evolved for myself, I was "floating". in the negative way with Jesus on the cross, as part of "the Dali image." I was there tb help my neighbor, any neighbor--it was for God to choose whom, I never asked to be shown who, how, or where. "Enemies of God, we were reconciled to him through his Son's death; reconciled to him, we are surer than ever of finding salvation in his Son's life. And, what is more, we can boast of God's protection; al-ways through our Lord Jesus Christ, since it is through him that we have 666 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 attained our reconciliation"(Rm 5:10-1 I). "We who were taken up into Christ by baptism have been taken up, all of us, into his death . We have to be closely fitted into the pat-tern of his resurrection, as we have been into the pattern of his death" (Rm 6:3, 5). Sin and salvation, death and life, crucifixion and resurrection, Jesus and all of us--inseparable. It is all mingled together like the confluence of two mighty rivers flowing as one towards the ocean of eternity and infinity. We have to "share his sufferings if we are to share his glory" (Rm 8:17). Some refuse the suffering and do not believe in the glory. Proxies must, in their stead, agree to be immersed in the passion with Jesus, so that the glory will permeate them, too. He came to save all. His will to redeem the whole of humanity can-not and will not be thwarted, but we are all one with him, and so those who are willing must help him save those who are unwilling. He expects and requires this of his lovers, though not necessarily as explicit victims, for this must be a given vocation. "For thy sake, we face death at every moment, reckoned no better than sheep marked down for slaughter. Yet in all this we are conquer-ors, through him who has granted us his love" (Rm 8:36-37). In the "inscrutable judgments" and "undiscoverable ways" of God is hidden the mystery of the redemption of the human race, in which all participate, consciously or unconsciously. The willing "offer up their bodies as a living sacrifice" because "though we are many in number" (trillions and trillions of us back to the beginning and on to the end of time), we yet "form one body in Christ and each acts as the counter-part of the other" (see Rm 12). Paul insists we are "Christ's body, organs of it depending upon each other" (1 Co 12:27), and therefore "the sufferings of Christ overflow into our lives"--together with divine comfort (2 Co 1:5). For Paul, shar-ing in the sufferings of Christ in order to bring forth spiritual children for him, is a fundamental Christian vocation. He writes, "It makes me happy to suffer for you, as I am sufferi.ng now, and in my own body to do what I can to make up all that has still to be undergone by Christ for the sake of his body, the Church. I became the servant of the Church" (Col 1:24-25). All these teachings of St. Paul, marked in my Knox bible, had had dynamic personal meaning for me ever since 1956, the year of my re-ception into the Church. They had been fortified and elucidated by stud-ies of such theological works as The Whole Christ by E. Mersch, S.J. Negative Floating / 66"/ (Dobson, London, 1956). They were in the very fiber of my interior life, yet, though I knew, believed, and lived what Jesus exemplified and Paul taught and lived, no felt comfort and consolation resulted. I was given strength to endure (while experiencing myself as weak and destitute) and that was all. But to endure and to persevere is at the very basis of the nada path journey, and the grace given me to do this was among the supreme ones of my life. Father Basil had now become my director, though, as he had been transferred, we seldom had the chance to meet. What he wrote to me in a letter of July, 1963, is relevant to the above. I quote: God does love you very dearly. Think of the tremendous graces that you have received from him. Your desire to give him everything in return is all that matters. You give, generously, only to the One whom you love . I am not so much concerned about the aridity and difficulty that you are experiencing at your prayers and the seeming loss of God. What I am concerned about is your loss of peace and near panic, because of the difficulties. The temptation to discouragement is one of the most insidious and dangerous for an interior soul. If you are patient and do not allow this temptation to dictate any change in your program of the day, you have nothing to fear. In his own good time he will give you the light and the warmth that seem to have disappeared. There is noth-ing in your day that is not worthy of being offered to him. This means that you are every hour united more intimately with him. You are grow-ing in charity and all the virtues, without being conscious of the growth. The increase in charity is all that matters. His reassurance was a blessing, calming me until the next spasm of self-doubt and apparent rejection by God afflicted me. Then I would re-read what he said, and be comforted again. In a queer way it was as if God himself was telling me, "Don't worry. Everything's all right-- even though it seems to be all wrong." Again he was loving me through "a soul in which he had established himself," just as he had promised as I lay so ill and weak in the hospital. One or two entries in my journals record various aspects of my nega-tive floating at this time. In the following, I think my way through to a grace-enlightened conclusion in faith, hope, and trust. It was not given to me in~stantaneously as a crystal globe. I quote from a 1963 rare entry: It is the risen Lord who permeates the whole of creation. 1 have been experiencing the suffering Christ. The climax came in the crucifixion of my heart. Then entombment and silence. Only the dead Christ there, un- 668 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 stirring~ and myself numb and seemingly dead with him year after year, waiting and praying and longing for the resurrection. Now I see the the Lord is risen. He fills my soul and the whole of his Mystical Body. He has risen as he said he would, even while I mourned him dead in me, and I dead with him. He is risen. How can this become more real to me, so that I too rise with him? Let me think . It is the risen Lord who permeates the whole of creation. Therefore he is not dead in me~ for his resurrection truly hap-pened. But something did die in me and was entombed. What was it? The overwhelming sense of entombment. Christ dead and in the tomb. And it was a significant turning point. What died? My attachment to and need of natural love? But the process of purgation through hu-man relationships still continues. Yet it is different. How? What died and was buried? "You have undergone death, and your life is buried and hidden away with Christ." I made a heartbreaking renunciation of my own free will, and I gave up--what? What died? My heart died. Yet I found other loves. "Christ, having undergone death, cannot die any more . He is not here; he has risen as he told you . We have to be closely fitted into the pattern of his resurrection, as we have been into the pattern of his death . We'know that Christ, now he has risen from the dead, cannot die any more. Death has no more power over him . " It was not Christ who died in me, for he cannot die any more. It was something in myself that died. And all the while I have been entombed, he has been living in my soul the life of the risen Lord. His resurrection is continuous just as much as his passion is. Somehow I have to become united with this.risen Christ. Like La-zarus called forth from the tomb, I have to shed my grave clothes and answer the call of the Lord, but "how? How? I don't know how. He has to say, "Come forth," and then I shall be able to move. Yet he eternally says, "Come forth," inviting me to share his life of glory in the Trinity, the life he is already living in my soul all the time I am in a state of grace. Only somehow I cannot unite myself with it, because the tomb wall seems in the way. What is the tomb wall? My compulsion to suffer psychologically in a certain way? Perhaps. Lord, give me light. Holy Spirit, whom he sends, lead me forth. Pray in and for me. I have been in a state of inertia, feeling I could do nothing till Christ rose in me--but he has never been dead in me. It was a part of myself that died, not he. All the time he has been waiting for me to come to him. Perhaps he has already said, "Come forth," only I have been so busy with my self-inflicted mourning, that l haven't heard him. My anguish was the death of some form of self-love, the crucifix- Negative Floating / 669 ion of some kind of seif-will, some aspect of the "world" that I clung to. "The people that lived in darkness have seen a great light . And he shall reign forever and ever . Come and bring forth from the dungeon the prisoner sitting in darkness and the shadow of death . " The shadow of my death. Just one of the excruciatihg deaths one must die before one can mount to a higher level on the nada path. Death and renewal. Part of his passion, but the passion is always inseparable from the resurrection, and the resurrection is. I don't have to wait for it--it is. 1 am already in it by the power of g~:ace and the presence of God in my soul. How then do I.realize and live consciously this risen life? That is the question. The "how" was to remain unrealized by me for some years yet. In the meantime I had to live in pure faith the reality of the crucified, en-tombed, but already risen Lord in me and in the whole of creation. 1 had to stay on the cross and in the tomb till God himself chose the time and way for my personal resurrection. I could not raise up myself. It had to be a work of pure grace. The words I use in another brief entry near the end of 1964 all re-veal a state of unalleviated negative floating. They are: Emptiness. Noth-ing. Waiting. Search. No finding. Grief. No.comfort. Dryness. Frigid-i'ty. Impotence. Waiting. Alone. Loneliness. Wa, iting--on and on. Dead-ness. ~umbness. Insensibility. No tears . . . too dry . . . But I believe. I hope. I suffer. I love. I wait. He loves. 1 know he loves. I believe he loves. Amen. In her Life Teresa of Avila tells of a spiritual state that reminds me of what I call "negative floating." First she mentions how St. Paul wrote about "being crucified to the world." Then she comments on how this reminds her of the soul that is receiving comfort from neither heaven nor earth, nor from any other source either. She says that in such a/ state of suspension and denial the soul is "crucified between heaven and earth; and it suffers greatly, for no help comes to it either from the one or from the other." It is "sus-pended by (its) distress, just as in union and rapture (it is) suspended by joy . It is a martyrdom." She records that when she is not physically occupied so that her mind is on something else, she is "plunged into these death-like yearnings." The "pain is so excessive that (she) can scarcely bear it"; she feels as though she has "a rope around (her) neck, is being strangled, is trying 670 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 to breathe . . . and crying out for help to breathe." She longs and longs to be able to talk to someone "who has passed through the same torment, for she finds that, despite her complaints of it, no one seems to believe her." (See Life, Ch. XX.) It was not till my own darkest years were past that I came across the above and was forcibly struck by its similarity to what I myself had ex-perienced. When actually immersed in that suffering, I remember having read that one of the worst sufferings of Jesus on the cross must have been be-ing stifled by his inability to breathe. This was caused by the constric-tion of lungs, heart, and ribs in his hanging posture. To ease it he must have had to heave himself up repeatedly on his nailed feet--an extra ag-ony. I think Teresa is describing the spiritual equivalent of this condition for those in the negative floating state of union with Jesus hanging on the cross. John of the Cross, using different metaphors, writes of what I take to be a similar state. He says it is caused by "purgative contemplation" during which the inflowing of God's presence into the soul "in order to renew it" reaches down into its depths, into its very "spiritual substance." The soul seems to itself to be "drowned in darkness," to be "melting away" and to be enveloped by "a cruel spiritual death." Metaphorically it is like Jonah in the whale's belly. (In relation to this present article, it is worth recalling that Jonah's ordeal has been accepted as a scriptural symbol for Jesus' entombment.) John writes that "in this sepulcher of dark death (the soul) must needs abide until the spiritual resurrection which it hopes for." It is consumed by "the lamentations of death., the pains of hell ¯ . . the clear perception that God has abandoned it, in his abhorrence of it, and has flung it into darkness." It feels "itself to be without God, and chastised and cast out, and unworthy of him; and it feels he is wrathful With it." John also speaks of spiritual stifling and "afflictive suffering" that consists of the soul's feeling as though it "were suspended or held in the air so that it could not breathe." The state is intensified by the fact that the sufferer cannot find help or understanding from any human be-ing. He concludes by writing, "Of such are they that in truth go down alive into hell" (purgatory). (See Dark Night H, Ch. VI.) Negative Floating / 671 I do not know whether what I experienced during these years was the same as what is described by Teresa and John. I only know that when I read them now, as in the above passages, I feel I understand exactly what is being reported, because I myself have been through it. Shall it be N or N plus I lamN. I accepted that. I buried deep in my mind My mathematical knowledge Of what N could really be. Not satisfied with status quo But dreading the pain That moving might mean, I embraced N-fixed, safe and therefore undemanding. Memory would not be stifled. Knowledge that N can be expanded Would twist and turn and peek out Coming to the surface unexpectedly And at times unwanted. There is more. Why not N plus one? Expanding toward potential Could hurt, could be dearly bought. Surely, only here is progress, Expansion toward great goals. Why else do I exist? Except to know N is not complete Without Him as plus One. Sister Marjorie Sweeney, S.S.J. St. Joseph Convent 734 Willow Street Lebanon, PA 17042 Spiritual Dryness: Some Practical Guidelines Eamon Tobin Father Eamon Tobin, having completed the Master's degree in Formative Spiritual-ity at Duquesne University in Pittsburgh, is currently pastor of a parish in Cocoa Beach, Florida. His address is Church of Our Savior; 5301 North Atlantic Avenue; Cocoa Beach, Florida 32931. The Lord, your God, will circumcise your hearts., that you may love the Lord, your God, with all your heart and all your soul, and so may live (Dt 30:6). Blessed. is the person who can call the darkness holy, who can desire its purification, who can rest in its presence. Such a person will grow rapidly because the process of purification is facilitated by generosity (Source Unknown). [~'very praying person sooner or later experiences what is called dryness in prayer. In spiritual dryness we have no felt sense of God's presence. We may,even think we have lost our Beloved or feel abandoned by him. In the sch~)ol, of prayer, few things are more important to understand than the nature and role of spiritual dryness, I intend to deal with this impor-tant dimension of the spiritual life by responding to five important ques-tions that one can ask about prayer in the desert. Question 1: What is it that praying people experience during the desert periods of the spiritual"jou~rney? The actual desert experience of praying persons will vary depending on the level of faith and spiritual maturity. For example, for the beginner in prayer spiritual dryness fre-quently means not just the absence of a felt sense of the presence of God 672 Spiritual Dryness / 67'3 but also feelings of what Saint Ignatius calls desolation--that is, feel-ings of anxiousness, sadness, or lo.ss of peace flowing from the thought, "I have lost God," or "God has abandoned me." On the other hand, for the person who is more mature in faith and advanced in the ways of prayer, spiritual dryness may not be an experience of desolation. The ex-perience will be one which lacks a felt sense of God's presence but may be accompanied by the conviction: "Even though I can't feel his pres-ence (at least on the external level), I do believe he is close and active in my life. Even though I cannot feel his presence (that is, spiritual dry-ness), I don't feel anxious, sad, or abandoned (that is, desolation). In fact, I feel peaceful." ~ To believe that God is present and active despite his apparent absence can be considered one of the greatest blessings of the spiritual life. For most of us, particularly in the early years of prayer, spiritual dryness usually includes the experience of desolation ("I have lost God; God has abandoned me"). Usually it is a time of spiritual suf-fering. We think we are getting the "silent treatment" from God. We "call out to him all day long, but he never answers" (Ps 22:3).2 Spiri-tual dryness is like journeying in the desert with no water in sight. Prayer is no longer exciting; rather, it is a weary struggle. Spiritual exercises that once nourished us now are empty, and we have little or no desire .to do them. Another dimension of the desert experience may be a feeling of dis-couragement as we become keenly aware of our own sinfulness. (We may not yet know that one of the surest signs of growth in the interior life is a growing awareness of our own sinfulness.) We may begin to think we are regressing rather than progressing. We may begin to expe-rience one of the great paradoxes of the spiritual life: the closer we come to God the further it seems to us that we are away from him. As we get closer to the all-piercing Light of God, the more our own darkness will show itself. Our lives will appear to be hollow and mediocre. The Scot-tish priest, the late Father John Dalrymple, writes: "It is as if I were to bring the sleeve of my coat toward the window of the room, and as I move into the light, the dust and dandruff on the sleeve become more obvious. It is not that as I moved the coat got dirtier, but that the light got brighter.''3 All in all, the thing that scares us most and even hurts us is the thought, "I have lost my Beloved; he has abandoned me" (See Song of Songs, Chapter 3). This thought or feeling is the experience of desolation described above. To sum up, we can say that while the actual experience of the desert will be different for different people, for all of us it will mean a felt sense 6"/4 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 of the absence of God. And for those of us whose faith in God is still fragile, it will frequently involve the experience of desolation (the "I have lost God" feeling). In reading the above description of spiritual dryness, one may think that it is something only experienced by monks, religious, and the ex-ceptional lay person~ Yet spiritual directors tell us that this experience is quite .common in the lives of many average, prayerful people who dis-cover somewhere in the midst of their spiritual journeys that spiritual ex-ercises that once nourished them spiritually now do nothing for them. Question 2: Why is an understanding of this dimension of prayer so important? There are at least three reasons why some understanding of spiritual dryness is important. First, if we do not know the role of the times of dryness, we may think that we have "lost God" and that our prior, positive feelings in prayer were not a gift from God but the crea-tion of our own imaginations. This frequently happens. Many people who have a genuine conversion and get all excited about prayer quit when the well runs dry. This is sad because it is now that God wants to do his real work in such persons. Second, lack of knowledge about the purpose of spiritual dryness may cause us to continue praying in a way that, at this particular stage in our spiritual journey, may be more of an obstacle than a help to our spiritual growth. Many people are unaware that at some stage in the spiritual journey God calls us to become less active in prayer so that he can be more active in our spiritual transfor-mation. Third, the experience of spiritual dryness may be something caused by ourselves or something permitted by God. When it is permit-ted by God, it is meant to purify us and bring us closer to him. Such dry-ness is a gift to be accepted and embraced. When spiritual dryness is our doing, we need to work at removing the causes of such dryness. Lack of knowledge about the nature and role of spiritual dryness may lead us to believe that a particular experience of dryness in prayer is authentic and God-given when in fact it is something brought on by our own infi-delities. So the time of spiritual dryness is a critical time in the spiritual jour-ney. How we respond to it will determine whether we move forward spiri-tually or stagnate. Question 3: Why does God permit us to experience desert peri-ods in the spiritual journey? So I will allure her 1 will lead her into the desert and speak to her heart (Ho 2:16). Spiritual Dryness / 675 God permits us to experience spiritual desert periods in order to pu-rify us of those things that hinder our spiritual transformation and to teach us some important lessons about the spiritual life and how it works. In our answer to this question we will look at some specific purifications that God works in us and lessons that he teaches us in the desert. Purifications of the Desert In the desert God will want to purify us of any excessive attachment we may have to consolation in prayer. If in prayer God blesses us with a lot of consolations (or "spiritual highs" as we often say today), there is a danger that we may seek and love "the consolations of our God more than the God of our consolations" (Saint Teresa of Avila). In time of spiritual consolation it is easy to pray. The challenge is to remain faith-ful to prayer when we experience little or no felt sense of God's pres-ence or action in our lives. During such dry periods God is asking us to love him for himself and not just for the spiritual highs or consolations he offers us in prayer. He is asking us to show that we are not just fair-weather friends but all-weather friends. And he is teaching us the im-portant lesson that he is to be found more deeply in the desert than in the garden of superficial delights. Secondly, in the desert God purifies us of spiritual vanity. John Dal-rymple explains sp!ritual vanity in this way: Someone taking to religion in all zeal, becoming caught upI in a cam-paign of prayer, fasting, spiritual reading, liturgical practice, and retreat weekends might be indulging unawares in one big ego-trip. Conversion of the soul from a worldly life to a spiritual life is at first s, uperficial only. The convert has been given new, spiritual goals; but the conver~- sion is only external. In itself the sofil is as full as it ever was of unre-generate tendencies to vanity, arrogance, acquisitiveness, the only dif-ference being that after conversion these tendencies are now attached to spiritual instead of worldly objects . The zeal of such a person is infectious, but it is, as yet, chiefly the expression of the person's vanity or self-centeredness, dressed up in Christian clothes.4 For God to do his work of spiritual transformation in us, he must pu-rify us of such spiritual vanity. God often brings about this purification in us by bringing to naught our best efforts to change ourselves and eve-rything and everyone around us. As we sit on the ruins of our self-made temples and projects, we are purified of spiritual vanity and arrogance, and we learn the meaning of spiritual poverty, which is realizing our com-plete dependence and need for God to bring about any spiritual growth 676 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 in others or in ourselves. In the desert, God's intention is not to punish us but to purify us. In the journey of life we consciously or unconsciously become overly-attached to persons or things--so much so that they become idols (that is, more important to us than God). This happened to Israel after she lived in the Promised Land for some time. She became so enamored with the blessings of the land that she forgot the One who gave her the land. To purify her of this idolatry God led Israel into the desert for a second time where she would be free of all her attachments and free to listen anew to the Word of God (See Hosea, Chapter 2). Lessons to Be Learned in the Desert Now let us briefly look at some of the lessons that God wishes to teach us in the desert. When God takes away consolation in prayer (that is, the felt sense of his presence), he wants to teach us the important lesson that he can be encountered at a deeper level than our emotions. He wants to teach us that we are no longer dependent on emotional returns to know we have encountered him. As we grow in our relationship with God, the more we will "learn to be at home in the dark because we are sure, in faith, that the potter is truly shaping the clay, even though the clay sees nothing of what is happening."5 An example about eating food might help to illustrate this point more clearly. Sometimes we may immensely enjoy eating a delicious meal. We may savor every morsel of the food. All in all, it is a delightful ex-perience. On another occasion we may not enjoy at all another type of delicious meal. We may not be feeling well, or the food may not appeal to us. Yet from a nutritious point of view, both meals are equally good. Our lack of enjoyment of the second meal in no way diminishes its nu-tritious value. The same principle is at work when it comes to prayer. Sometimes when we pray we really feel and savor God's presence and love. At other times the prayer is empty and dull. Who are we, though, to say that the latter time is of no benefit to our spiritual growth or is less pleasing in God's sight? A second lesson God teaches us in the desert is that spiritual conso-lation is his p.ure gift to us and not something we can earn by being good or by praying :in a particular way. In prayer God teaches us this impor-tant lesson by "dropping in" on us when we least expect him and by "failing to show" when we very much want to experience his presence. A third lesson that God wishes to teach us in the desert is that spiri- Spiritual Dryness / 677 tual growth is totally dependent on his work in us and not on anything we do. Our task is simply to be flexible and cooperative with the move-ment of his Spirit. In the spiritual life, "working at it" often means "be-ing still," "just being there" and exercising discipline over our doing and achieving self which so often wants to run the show. This is a diffi-cult lesson for us because so much of our training for the outer journey of life has told us to be "take-charge" and self-sufficient persons. It is not easy for us to switch gears in the inner journey. In the spiritual life God is the Chief Actor; we are the acted-upon. Mary, at the Annunciation (Lk 1:26-38), is our perfect model. When God mysteriously breaks into Mary's life and invites her to become the mother of Jesus, she doesn't respond, "Sure, Lord, I'll do it!" Rather, she says, "I am your maidservant; work in and through me as you want." Mary's response was, "Fiat, be it done unto me," not, "I'11 do it." This attitude is one of active receptivity, and it is the secret of Christian spirituality and spiritual growth. Active receptivity is charac-terized by the effort to place our energy, will, and freedom at the dis-posal of God so that he can do with us and in us what he wills, Finally, when God our Father allows our prayer to run dry, he is in-viting us to participate in the cross of Jesus. In times of dryness we are experiencing the thirst of Jesus on the cross. If the cross was Jesus' way to the Father, then surely we, the disciples of Jesus, cannot expect to travel the scenic route free of all pain and hardship. When we experi-ence darkness in prayer or in the marketplace, we are being invited to identify with Jesus in his suffering, in his experience of feeling aban-doned by the Father. Also in the desert we are being invited and chal-lenged to trust that our God will not abandon us but will come to rescue us and redeem us (See Exodus, Chapter 16). Question 4: How can I tell when a particular desert experience is caused by my own infidelity or is something permitted by God to help me to grow in my relationship with him? When dryness occurs in prayer, particularly in the early stages when God is giving alternating periods of dryness and consolation, wemay tend to blame ourselves for dryness. We may wonder what latest infidelity we committed to bring about this dryness. The fact may be that we have done nothing wrong . to occasion the dryness. God may be allowing us to experience the dry-ness bechuse he wants to teach us some lesson and/or purify some as-pect of our relationship with him. On the other hand, we may think the dryness is from God when in fact it is caused by our own laxity and sin-fulness. Therefore, it is important that we be able to discern the true 6711 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 cause of the dryness because our response to it will differ, depending on whether the dryness is permitted by God or is something brought on by ourselves. Let us now identify several ways that we can bring about our own spiritual desert. ( 1 ) Indifference to a Sinful Pattern of Behavior: If we are indifferent to some sinful pattern of behavior in our lives, then we can expect diffi-culty in prayer. In a human friendship a negative pattern of behavior (for example, a critical or lying spirit), which we make no effort to ,change, will have a destructive effect on the whole relationship. Likewise, if in our relationship with God, we are deliberately ignoring a sinful pattern of behavior (for example, involvement in an illicit relationship, unfor-giveness, unethical business practices), then we can rightfully expect ten-sion in our relationship with God. When we do the above, we are delib-erately excluding the Lord and his influence from some area of our lives. In such a situation we should not be surprised that we do not feel God's presence very much in prayer. Here it is important to note that I am not referring to a sinful pattern of behavior that we are trying to change and that we are bringing before the Lord in prayer. In this case we are rec-ognizing sin and struggling with it. Instead of keeping us from God, our struggle with a particular sin or weakness may be the very means that God will use to allow us to experience his love, mercy and power. (See 2 Co 12:7-10 for Paul's famous example of how his thorn in the flesh became the very means of God's power.) In the former case, we are not even confronting our sin or seeking God's help with it. Instead we are deliberately ignoring its existence or trying to rationalize its O.K. 'hess. In the latter case, our sin grieves us and we are doing what we can to remove it from our lives. (2) Repressed Anger at God: Two highly-respected spiritual direc-tors, Fathers William Connoily and William Barry, write in a co-authored book: "When prayer flattens out, or appears tO be facing an iron wall, the director must always suspect the presence of unexpressed anger."6 To add to this problem, many of us were raised in a culture where appropriate expression of anger was socially unacceptable. "Hence resentments, holding a grudge or subdued rage, when they are present, are all likely to be given other names like indifference and ra-tional analysis."7 When someone hurts us, our relationship with that per-son will diminish, even if we decide to present an affable, friendly front; but in reality we will distance Ourselves emotionally from the person. In a similar way, if we become angry with God about something, we may Spiritual Dryness / 679 continue to be faithful to our prayer time, but on an emotional level we can be fairly sure we have distanced ourselves from him. (It is impor-tant for us to be aware that if life is handing us a raw deal, we may well be unconsciously blaming God, the Source of all things, for our lousy situation.) (3) Separation of Prayer and Life: The spiritual life is all of life and not just one segment of it. The Lord refuses to be a compartmentalized God; he wants to be a part and parcel of our whole life. When we try to keep God in church or in our prayer closet and not allow him to guide all the activities of our day, we can be sure that we are setting ourselves up for dryness in prayer. If we exclude God from the activities of our day, then we should not be surprised if he is missing from our prayer time. Even on a human level, no one likes to be a "tag-along" in some-one else's life. (4) Overwork: When our prayer life dries up, it is good for us to ask if we are pushing ourselves too much on the vital and functional dimen-sions of life. "Am I overworked? Am I over-tired? Am I coming down with the flu? Am I neglecting physical exercise? Do I have a tendency to make leisure time work? Or do I have leisure time--period?" These are important questions to ask. These things affect our prayer life. If we fail to care properly for our bodies, then we are neglecting a dimension of ourselves that we depend on to help us to pray. When we are very tired and overworked, prayer may well be seen as just another duty or thing to do. (5) Lack of Honesty in Prayer: Just as shallow or dishonest sharing dulls human relationships, it also dulls the Divine-human relationship. If our prayer is no more than "sweet talk" to "sweet Jesus," we should not expect Jesu~ to be too interested in our conversation. We must learn to talk to the Lord about the real stuff in our lives. (6) Halfhearted Efforts at Prayer: On a human level two friends may fail to really connect with each other because their conversations are "just words," words that fail to express what they are truly thinking and feeling. The problem may be that deep down they don't want to or are scared to encounter each other in a deep way. When a relationship is char-acterized by this type of communication, then we should expect it to be empty and unfulfiiling. In a similar vein, when our prayer time mainly consists of the rote recitation of certain prayers or of inattentive spiritual reading--if beneath the "saying of prayers" and the acts of piety there is no real desire to encounter God and grow in relationship with him-- then we should expect little or no satisfaction in prayer. In fact, our spiri- Review for Religious, September-October 1989 tual exercises may become a substitute for a real relationship with God. If we discern that we are the cause of our spiritual dryness, we should do all we can to remove the particular obstacle. For example, if the problem or obstacle is that we are holding onto a grudge and doing nothingto let it go, then we may need to pray for forgiveness for that person and/or we may need to have an open chat with the person with whom we are having a problem. If we discern that our experience of spiri-tual dryness is due to our tendency to separate prayer and life (see ob-stacle number three above), then our solution will be to work at allow-ing the Lord to walk with us in all the activities of our day. In short, when we discern that we are the cause of the spiritual dryness, then we ought to do something to remove the obstacle. It is the experience of most, if not all, disciples of the Lord that once they begin to struggle with an obstacle, prayer again becomes alive and they experience a new closeness to God. Finally, it should be noted that in trying to discern the cause of our spiritual dryness we would be well advised to seek the coun- ¯ sel of a good spiritual director. When we experience spiritual dryness most of us have a tendency to think that it is due to some infidelity on our part. The truth may be that God is permitting us to experience the desert so that he can continue his purifying work in us. This brings us to the second part of our response to Question 4: "How might we know that it is God and not us who is calling us into a spiritual desert?" While we can never be absolutely sure--since we live by faith and not by clear vision--when spiritual dryness is being per-mitted by God, we can say that the following are good indicators that the dryness is the purifying work of God: --If during the time of dryness we remain faithful to prayer. --If our prayer is honest and flowing from the real stuff of our lives. --If we are trying to integrate prayer and life. --If we are trying to live a life of charity; if our prayer is helping us to be more loving. --If we are genuinely trying to avoid sin and live our lives accord-ing to God's Word. --If we thirst for God as we walk in the desert. (It is crucial that we, remember that our desire for God is in itself a tangible sign of his pres-ence in our lives. We couldn't even desire God if he didn't place that desire in our hearts.) You will notice that the above signs are pretty much the opposite of the ways that we ourselves bring about our own spiritual desert. Prayer, like so many other things in life, is a series of "arrivals" Spiritual Dryness and "starting points." We arrive at a point where we feel good. We ex-perience the grace of consolation. But that only lasts a little while and then a certain discontent (a kind of desert) sets in--a discontent that may be caused by ourselves or permitted by God. Then we are faced with the challenge of discerning who is causing the discontent: "Is it God or me?" The purpose of the discontent caused by him is to create in us a longing for more, to create in us a desire to move closer to God. In the spiritual journey God brings us to a particular point or state; he lets us rest there and enjoy that plateau for a little while, and then he says, "O.K. Let's move ahead and seek for more" (see Ex 40:36-37). Of course, it is not easy to move when we are not sure where he is leading us. All he says is, "Move and trust that I'll take you to a new and bet-ter place." Finally, if we are in doubt about the cause ofour discontent or dry-ness, then we should talk to a spiritual guide or, if that is not possible, simply say a prayer like this: "Lord, if this dryness I am experiencing is due to some failing of mine, please reveal it to me. Until you do I am going to assume that I am not the cause of the dryness." Question 5: What are some resources available to us to sustain us in the desert? Four resources that will sustain us in the desert are: --a wise spiritual director; --a strong faith; --fidelity to prayer; --the support of fellow pilgrims. Our first help is a wise spiritual director. By wise I mean one who understands the role of the desert in the spiritual life and hopefully one who has experienced and grown through the desert in his or her own spiri-tual journey. Many people whom God led into the desert for purifica-tion have suffered much at the hands of well-intentioned but misinformed spiritual guides. Saint John of the Cross reserves some of his harshest words for such misinformed guides.8 For example, a misinformed guide may insist that a directee continue to meditate and do a lot of spiritual reading when God is calling her to the prayer of contemplation. In the desert a good spiritual director will be a source of guidance, encourage-ment and inspiration. When we are in a spiritual desert, it is important that we learn to place our trust in a good spiritual director. But, as most of us know, wise spiritual directors are nearly as scarce as palm trees in the northern states of America. The truth is that the road to authenticity is dangerous, hard, and narrow, and few decide to travel it. In the ab-sence of a wise spiritual director (and there is really no substitute for such Review for Religious, .September-October 1989 a person), one may receive some guidance from books that are written or recommended by people who are recognized guides of the inner jour-ney. A second important resource is a strong faith--a faith that enables US" --to believe that God knows what he is doing when he allows us to ex-perience the desert (Rm 11:33-36); --to believe that in the desert God is not punishing us but is purifying us (Dt 30:6); --to believe that God grows his best flowers (virtues) in the desert (Ho 2); --to believe that God works in us while we rest in him (Mk 4:26-29); --to believe that in the struggles of life God is on our side fighting our battles (Ex 14:13-14 and Dt 1:30-33); --to believe that in the desert God's seeming absence is just a different type of presence, one that we may not as yet have recognized (Ex 16); --to be secure with insecurity (Rm 8:28); --above all, to generously abandon ourselves to the purifying work of God (Lk 23:46). A third important resource as we struggle in the desert is fidelity to prayer. In the desert, prayer is usually dry and therefore all the more dif-ficult to remain faithful to. When it comes to praying in the desert, spiri-tual guides counsel us to avoid two extremes or temptations. The first temptation is to quit prayer, thinking that our best efforts are leading us nowhere. The second temptation is to "junk up" our prayer time with extra prayers, rosaries, Scripture reading, and so forth, thinking that if we only try harder maybe we will feel the presence of God. This second temptation needs to be resisted not only because it blocks what God is about in the desert but also because it is (usually unconsciously) our at-tempt to stay in or get back into the driver's seat. In general, prayer in the desert will become much less active, more passive--less us, more God. The challenge will be to learn to sit quietly in the presence of God, trusting that he is at work in us while we rest in him. Le~.rning to "waste time doi.ng nothing" in prayer is, without a doubt, one of the most difficult lessons we have to learn in the school of prayer. Unfortunately, most of us never learn to waste time gracefully in the presence of God. Such a practice goes completely against our west-ern, work-ethic nature that is usually driven to do, to achieve, and to pro-duce-- that likes to see tangible results for its efforts. Because of this need in us, most of us fill the vacuum that we feel in the desert with read- Spiritual Dryness ing or prayers of some sort. For those of us who are willing to try and do less (that is, to be less active) in prayer so that God may do more in us, the following suggestions might be helpful. -Spend some time just "being there" with the Lord, aware that as "we rest in him he is at work in us." We put aside all effort to achieve because now we are learning that achievement (growth) is God's work. By periodically spending some time "doing nothing" in the presence of the Lord, we are expressing our faith in an important spiritual dictum: "God's activity in prayer is more important than my activity." -Spend some time slowly repeating prayers like: "Incline my heart to your will, O Lord." "Make me want you, O Lord, more than anyone/ thing in my life." -Take a phrase of Scripture like "You are my beloved Son" and dwell on it. -Simply take one word like "Jesus" or "love" and repeat it gent-ly and slowly, letting God work in us, leading us beyond conceptual thoughts, images, or feelings to wordless depths. -Image and be present to Mary in the Temple after she lost Jesus (Lk 2:41-50) and at the foot of the cross (Jn 19:25-27) which must have been a real dark night of the spirit for her. Ask Mary to intercede for you so that you may have something of the faith which she had when she thought she had lost Jesus. -Finally, you may want to read something on spiritual dryness. By simply reading and rereading portions of a book like When the Well Runs Dry, I am encouraged to persevere in the desert. Personally, I need to hear over and over again the teaching and encouragement that a book like Father Green's offers. In prayer our role is to be faithful in coming aside, to be at God's disposal. What actually happens in prayer is God's business. For me this piece of wisdom has always been very consoling. It helped to free me from thinking that it was up to me to make things happen in prayer. Now I am more relaxed, knowing that my role is to be faithful in coming aside, to do what I can to eliminate distractions from within and with-out, and to pray as I feel led. ("Pray as you can, not as you can't.") The rest is in God's hands. If he chooses to bless me with a deep sense of his presence, I am indeed very grateful. If he chooses to bless me with his seeming absence (God is always only seemingly absent), then I try to be grateful for that, also believing that God knows what will best help me to grow. "Our prayer is good when our hearts are fixed on God, even if it is filled with boring aridity or passionate turmoil.' ,9 Review for Religious, September-October 1989 A fourth resource in the desert is the prayer and personal support of fellow pilgrims. While each person's inner journey is very personal and unique, still we can learn much from the journeys of co-pilgrims. Only the foolish try to travel the inner jou~rney alone. In the desert we are all beggars sharing morsels of bread with each other. Also, if we are blessed enough to be a part of a small, faith---sharing group, then we have avail-able to us an excellent resourc_~e for the dry times. In the dry times the prayers of'fellow pilgrims are usually a big help. I wbuld like to conclude our discussion on spiritual dryness with a prayer that I have found to be a source of great encouragement during times of spiritual desolation. Dear Lord, in the midst of much inner turmoil and restlessness, there is a consoling thought: maybe you are working in me in a way I cannot yet feel, experience, or understand. My mind is not able to concentrate on you, my heart is not able to remain centered, and it seems as if you are absent and have left me alone. But in faith I cling to you. I believe that your Spirit reaches deeper and further than my mind or heart, and that profound movements are not the first to be noticed. Therefore, Lord, I promise I will not run away, not give up, not stop praying, even when it all seems useless, pointless, and a waste of time and effort. I want to let you know that I love you even though | do not feel loved by you, and that I hope in you even though I often experi-ence despair. Let this be a little dying I can do with you and for you as a way of experiencing some solidarity with the millions in this world who suffer far more than I do. Amen.~° NOTES ~ See Thomas H. Green, S. J., Weeds Among the Wheat (Notre Dame, Indiana, 1984), Chapters 6 and 7. Also see Thomas H. Green, S.J., When the Well Runs Dry (Notre Dame, Indiana, 1979), p. 92. 2 Some other Psalms that reflect darkness in the prayer of the psalmist are Psalms 60, 69, 74, and 88. 3 Father John Dalrymple, Simple Prayer (Wilmington, Delaware, 1984), p. 69. '~ lbid, p. 93. 5 Thomas H. Green, S.J., When the Well Runs Dry (Notre Dame, Indiana, 1979), p. 119. 6 Fathers William Barry. and William Connolly, The Practice of Spiritual Direction (New York, 1982), p. 73. 7 Ibid. 8 Saint John of the Cross, The Collected Works of John of the Cross, translated by Kieran Kavanaugh, O.C.D. and Otilio Rodriguez, O.C.D. (Washington, D.C., 1979), pp. 620-634. 9 Father John Dalrymple, Simple Prayer, (Wilmington, Delaware, 1984), p. 66. ~0 Henri J. M. Nouwen, A Cry for Mercy: Prayers from the Genesee (Garden City, New York, 1983), p. 102. That God Might Be Father .Laurel M. O'Neal Sister Laurel O'Neal, a solitary (hermit), is familiar to our readers. Her address is Stillsong Hermitage; 80 Lafayette Circle; Lafayette, California 94549. Perhaps the only question more problematic than that of the possibility of prayer is the question of its, genuine significance and necessity. Sur-prisingly, however, this is also a question we generally fail to consider explicitly or face squarely. More typically, the meaningfulness and re-quisiteness of our prayer are matters we tend to take for granted, even though the notion of prayer may lie at the heart of important or even fun-damental expressi6ns of self-understanding and definition. But the ques-tion is an important one, and one we cannot easily afford to avoid or care-lessly dismiss, if we intend to take prayer seriously or maintain a proper sense of its place and role in our daily lives. After all, why really are we called to pray? What, if anything, is truly and uniquely at stake in our prayer? Is there any reason to regard our own personal prayer as a matter of compelling urgency and real ne-cessity, or is the matter really more nugatory? Clearly, as Christians we are called to believe that our prayer is a meaningful, even indispensable activity, vital to the transformation and healing of all we know, and the realization of all we are made and hope for. But how do we justify such a belief? What is it about prayer that makes such claims credible? The answers to all of these questions are based in our recognition that in prayer something deeper and even more fundamental is at stake, some-thing in which all healing and human growth in wisdom and sanctity are rooted, and upon which all our hope depends. Like Christianity in general, and like God himself, prayer is pro-foundly paradoxical, and this is particularly true of the question at hand. 685 Review for Religious, September-October 1989 Although we must acknowledge that prayer is the gift and activity of God attended to by sinners (that is, by persons whose lives are fundamentally marked and marred by fragmentation and alienation), we must also af-firm that the deeper truth is the paradox that prayer is primarily some-thing we undertake on God's own behalf, insofar as prayer is the experi-ence of God as the One he wishes to be for us. Quite simply, what is truly and uniquely at stake in our prayer, at each and every moment we pray, is nothing less than the life and destiny of God himself. As Chris-tians, as persons who pray--that is, as persons who share as heirs of God in the obedient Sonship of Jesus Christ, we do so primarily that God might truly be the Father he has willed to be from the beginning. This insight is easy to lose sight of, something that occurs particu-larly whenever God's paradoxical nature is obscured or forgotten, and an immutable or even (as commonly misunderstood) "triune" God is substituted for a Living One. Most of us are well aware that on the one hand, our God is the "High and Holy One," the one who reveals him-self in sovereignty and self-sufficiency. Indeed he is Yahweh, "the one who will be who (he) will be," ~ in absolute authority and awesome auton-omy. But this dominant Old Testament image is just one side of the para-dox whom we Christians know as God; and if on the one hand he is the High and Holy One who is absolutely self-sufficient, he is also the one who has determined not to remain so, but rather has resolved to make his own destiny subject to the responsiveness of his creation. Our God is on the one hand without beginning or end, absolutely self-sufficient, in need of no one and no thing. Yet on the other hand he has willed from all eternity not to remain alone but to turn to another--a person who will be his counterpart. He is the eternal decision to speak to this other and to hearken to the word which this other speaks. He is the eternal deci-sion to love this other and to accept this other's love. [The God of the New Testament] who is eternally self-sufficient wills not to be; God who is eternally of and for himself wills to be for another.2 This means quite simply that God has determined to be for us as well as dependent upon us. We must allow this determination to be realized, and let God be who he wills to be for us. This is indeed the most human thing we can do, just as it is the most loving. Those who truly appreci-ate that our own destiny is dependent upon the proper exercise of human freedom should not be surprised that God too is dependent upon it. In fact, we should be aware that the Christ event reveals that it is human freedom which is the true counterpart to divine omnipotence. For many, this will be an astounding assertion. However, if we reflect on precisely That God Might Be Father / 687 what occurred in the Christ event, perhaps this critical point will become more acceptable to most people. Certainly such reflection is necessary if we are to truly appreciate the importance and urgency of our prayer. It is true that in the Christ event--in the life, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus--God drew near to every moment and mood of his creation. This is truth but the truth cuts far more deeply than even this awesome reality. In the Christ event something absolutely s'ingular and unsurpassable occurred. For the first time in human history someone, in this case Jesus of Nazareth, in living a life wholly responsive to the God who would be Father, accomplished two things. In the first place, he lived the first genuinely human existence ever known in the history of humankind, and secondly, in his proper exercise of true human freedom he allowed God to become the Father he had willed to be from the be-ginhing. In the dialogue which existed between Father and Son, both hu-man and divine life reached a fullness for which they had yearned and groaned through time and eternity, the realization of human and divine destinies were forever linked, and divine omnipotence and human free-dom were inextricably wed as counterparts of one another. Nor is this all. In Jesus' resurrection from the dead, this abundant life was made a continuing and unconquerable reality in our world. It is in prayer that we enter most deeply into participation into this abundant life, and in prayer that Jesus' Sonship becomes our own and the Fatherhood of God is further realize~t. Through our participation in the Sonship of Jesus, we come to know genuine human life, and we become aware that it is a life characterized and constituted by an ongoing and all-consuming dialogue with the Fa-ther, who is in turn constituted as Father in this dialogue. In the Christ event Jesus responded to God as Son. He allowed God to be the author of his life, and he allowed God to be authored as Father in the process. Truly human existence is nothing less and nothing other than daughter-ship or sonship to the Living God whose own inner truth and dynamism is realized in Fatherhood. Prayer is simply and always the mutual out-working of these inextricably linked divine and human destinies. God is Father neither before, nor apart from, the response of Jesus as Son; neither is he our Father apart from our participation in that de-finitive Sonship which we call prayer. (Note well, in all of this it is im-portant that, according to the prologue to John's gospel, we are very clear that it is not the Logos that is Son; rather it is Jesus as Son in whom the Logos is incarnate. The two realities are quite different, and are often tragically confused. As the term is commonly but perhaps naively used, Review for Religious, September-October 1989 the Logos is "preexistent"; the Son is not, and whenever this confu-sion occurs, it becomes impossible to appreciate the true significance of the obedient Sonship of Jesus or of our own prayer.) Although he is the one "who will be who (he) will be," the God of the New Testament turns to the world as the one who would be Father, that is, as one who would find his counterpart and true completion in those who would turn in response as daughters and sons (that is, as those who are of him and from him) and, as one whose deepest identity would remain unrealized and unrealizable apart from this response. What are the implications of all this for our prayer? In the first place, we must concede that our prayer has real meaning and urgency, not only and not even primarily because we are saved through God's activity in our lives, but because in our prayer we concern ourselves with the very life of God. Whether or not prayer is a profound experience for Is, it is a significant experience for God since it is in prayer that he is allowed to achieve Fatherhood and truly realize himself. Whatever we perceive happening or not happening in our prayer, we must not lose sight of the fact of what does occur there. In prayer God is given the chance to love fully, and thus to fully be. It is not simply the'case that God is love; it is also true that in loving, God is (and it is this fact which allows us to speak of prayer in terms of the glorification or magnification of God). Prayer is possible only to the extent that our God has willed not to remain remote, that is, only to the extent that he has drawn near. But prayer is meaningful and necessary for the most part because the God who has refused to remain remote has also willed not to remain self-sufficient and has, in a very real way put his own destinyinto the hand of those to whom he would be Father, and whom he has thus willed re-spond to him as daughters and sons. Without our prayer, God remains the High and Holy One who has drawn near to us in all of life's moments and moods, but who remains deprived of real presence, and thus whose deepest will and identity remains unrealized and frustrated in our regard. It is particularly telling that the first word and entire Lord's Prayer is contained in the invocation "Father." Jesus' whole life and prayer, which were essentially synonymous, were devoted to allowing God's will to Fatherhood to be accomplished. Claiming this realization of the Fatherhood of God is the heart of all prayer. Allowing him to love us in the way he wills is the heart of all truly human activity. It is impor-tant that our prayer remain the God-centered activity it is meant to be. This is the reason Jesus gave his life and his way of praying as a "para-digm of perspective," and in fact, in what is most essentially and pro- That God Might Be Father 689 foundly the lesson of the New Testament, taught his followers to pray. We lose proper perspective if we forget that God has drawn near, but it is at least as tragic to forget that prayer is the way nearness is transformed into real presence. We said in an earlier essay3 that prayer begins, ends, and is sustained by our concern for and commitment to the life of God. Let us remember why we are present to him and what our appreciation of his nearness means for him, and may this knowledge sustain us in even the driest of moments. NOTES t The usual translation of "Yahweh" in Exodus 3:14 as "I am who am," or even the more cryptic "'I am" is inadequate insofar as it disregards the dynamic element, and promise of active and effective presence also contained in the Hebrew (see Ex 3:12). A better translation is "I will be who I will be". 2 Dwyer, John C., Son of Man attd Son of God, A New Language For Faith, (New York: Paulist Press, 1983). 3 O'Neal, Laurel M., "Prayer, Maintaining a Human Experience": R~.vl~.w R~.~.~¢~ous; Nov/Dec 1987, p. 883. Musing Fragile as a crisp autumn leaf, Hard as flint on flint, Soft as nestling down, Resilient as blue tempered steel-- You and I--this planet ours-- Cradled in God's tender arms Of Grace. Walter Bunofsky, S.V.D. 1446 E. Warne Avenue St. Louis, Missouri 63107 Mary of Bethany-- The Silent Contemplative Carlos M. de Melo, S.J. Father Carlos de Melo, S.J. is professor emeritus of Canon Law and Spiritual The-ology at the Pontfical Athenaeum of Pune, India. His address is Papal Seminary; Nagar Road; Ramwadi; Pune 411 014 India. Teresa of Avila, that incomparable mistress of the spiritual life--"Mater spiritualium" as she is called in the inscription at the foot of her statue at St. Peter's, Rome--was never tired of repeating to her daughters of the Reformed Carmel that prayer is not so much a matter of much think-ing as of loving much.~ The soul of prayer is faith and love. Going through the gospels ! found this basic truth or principle beautifully illus-trated in the attitudes of Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus, vis-~t-vis our Lord. Bethany is a small hamlet about three kilometers southeast of Jerusa-lem, separated from the capital by the Mount of Olives. Mary of Bethany appears in five places in the gospel narratives: I) Luke 10:38-42; 2) John 11 : 1-53; 3) John ! 2: i - l l ; 4) Mark 14:3-9; and 5) Matthew 26:6-13. The last three references cover one and the same episode, that of the supper at Bethany, in the house of Simon, the "leper." True, the material is not over abundant, yet it is sufficient enough to give us a fair idea of the personality, the mind and heart, the ways and attitudes, the character of this well-known biblical figure. However, I wish to bring out in this es-say one particular trait that distinguishes her, and that is her contempla-tive attitude of life, as it comes across to us in a striking manner in two of those passages--Luke i0 and Matthew 26 (see Jn 12; Mk 14). Symbol of Contemplative . Indeed, in these passages, Mary stands out before us as a symbol and 690 Mary of Bethany / 69"1 teacher of the contemplative life particularly inspiring and helpful to per-sons "consecrated to God," whether they live in convents and monas-teries or elsewhere in the world. She thus becomes our guide, silent yet sure, to a simple, intimate relationship with our divine Master, such as will not only bring us true fulfillment but can even radically transform our life. For, as the saying goes, tell me with whom you walk and I shall tell you what sort of a person you are. When did Mary first meet Jesus? In Luke 10 the new Rabbi figures as an already familiar guest in the house of Martha, Mary, and Lazarus, one whom they all highly esteemed, loved and revered, a dear friend whose visits were eagerly looked forward to and whom they welcomed with undisguised joy and profound satisfaction, as though they could never have enough of him. From him they held no secrets; they could share with him their every thought or sentiment, every joy or sorrow, and in him they were always sure to meet, in any life situation, under-standing, sympathy, guidance. First Meeting Decisive True, the gospels do not tell us when it was that Mary first met Je-sus. One thing, however, seems to be certain. Whatever might have been the time, place or occasion, that first meeiing was decisive in Mary's life; it made a lasting and ineffaceable impression on her youthful, sensitive nature. It reminds us of another such decisive encounter narrated in an-other gospel--that of the Master with the beloved disciple (Jn 1:35-39)-- one of those unforgettable events that make an impact for good and give a new turn to life. Like that of John, Mary's life, too, was deeply touched by her meeting with Jesus, for, from then on, that mysterious guest became as it were everything for her, the center of her thoughts, sentiments, deeds. It was as though interiorly taught from on high, Mary sensed in Jesus of Nazareth not only a new rabbi, or a great religious leader who taught as one having authority (Mt 7:29), who spoke as no man ever did (Jn 7:4-6), or even a worthy prophet like Moses, Isaias or Jeremias of old, but--in a way she herself was not able fully to under-stand or explain--the very incarnation of the Father of Israel, of Yah-weh himself, and at the same time, her own personal friend and guide-- her 'guruji' we might say, with all this term, and the reality it represents, means in Indian life and tradition. This explains Mary's unconditional surrender to him, her loving contemplation of him, her total openness and docility to his word, her silent "adoration"--attitudes proper to a creature before its God, its divine Lover. 692 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 Lovable Character Mary is a lovable character--lovable because she is so

Issue 48.1 of the Review for Religious, January/February 1989. ; R F.vu-'.w FOR RF.uG~OUS (ISSN O034-639X) is published bi-monthly at St. l_x~uis University by thc Mis-souri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus: Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Blvd., Rm. 428: St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis MO. Single copies $3.00. Subscriptions: $12.00 per year: $22.00 for two years. Other countries: for surface mail. add U.S. $5.00 per year: for airmail, add U.S. $20.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: REviEw FO~ REt.~GOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to REVtEW ~'oa RE~ol~;totJS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. David L. Fleming, S.J. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Editor Associate Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors Jan./Feb. 1989 Volume 48 Number I Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW FOR REI.IGIOUS; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709-1193. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from R~:vtEw r'oa REU~aOUS; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, M! 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. Review for Religious Volume 48, 1989 Editorial Offices 3601 Lindeil Boulevard, Room 428 Saint Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 David L. Fleming, S.J. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Editor Associate Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors R~:vIEw FOR RELIGIOUS is published in January, March, May, July, Sep-tember, and November on the twentieth of the month. It is indexed in the Catholic Periodical and Literature Index and in Book t~e te~I Index. A microfilm edition of R~:v~Ew FOR RELIGOUS is available from University~ Microfilms International; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Copyrighl© 1989 by R~vmw FOR RELiGiOUS. A major portion of each issue of REvmw FOR RgL~G~OUS is als~o regu-larly available on cassette recordings as a service for the visuallyl' im-paired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 1 O010. PRISMS . Religious life today presents a varied landscape of images. Some would see the landscape more in the fading light of autumn colors or, perhaps, far more somberly in the gray bleakness of a barren wintertime. Others look out and observe a springtime of new growth, with tender fresh green shoots and small delicate blossoms just visible above the ground level. All the various ways we have of picturing religious life have some basis in reality. For there are various prisms through which we view all life, including religious life. Prisms are very important because they do provide a way for us to see, to highlight and to emphasize, to reject and to ignore. As others share their prisms of vision with us, we gain en-trance to worlds of different colors and new life. Of course, if we main-tain our vision only through our own prism, our world begins to take on a singleness of color and a frozen artificiality of life. REVIEW FOR REL~C~OUS, from its first January issue in 1942, has tried to provide various prisms through which we might view the whole worldscape which must be a part of a vibrant Christian spiritual life and so necessarily a part of religious life. As newly appointed editor of this journal, I intend the variety of insights into the consecrated lifeform, tra-ditionally called religious life, to remain an essential contribution of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. This contribution seems all the more necessary at our particular moment in the Church when often more time is spent in defining and establishing one's own position than in listening or learn-ing of another's. I do not want to wear out an image, but there is another important pointer for us in the kaleidos6ope. The prisms of a kaleidoscope only pro-duce their beauty because of their relationships, one to another. I find that the prisms through which we view life only present us with adequate truth, new life, and fresh ways ofacting if we maintain the relationship of various viewpoints. That is the great strength of the Church who pos-sesses various pictures of Jesus in her gospels, who allows differing phi-losophies and theologies to provide understanding to her faith, and who approves the charisms of vastly differing forms of religious life to be le-gitimate icons of Christ for all the Christian faithful and for the world. It is in the maintenance of relationship that we possess the criteria of le-gitimacy, continuity, and true creativity. 4 / Review for Religious, January-February 1989 In our current issue, the usual variety of articles gives indication of the richness of interests which help form the context of religious life. In subsequent numbers I intend to take the opportunity to highlight one or other article because of the importance of its issue or the insight or un-derstanding it provides. Sometimes I would like to reflect more broadly about certain key concerns of religious life as it is being lived in our Churc,h and world today. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS in this way will continue to provide prisms as well perspectives on the relationships of the many prisms that make up our religious lives. David L. Fleming, S.J. What Do You Want?m The Role of Desires in Prayer William A. Barry, S.J. A frequent contributor, Father Barry wrote "God's Love Is Not Utilitarian" for our issue of November/December 1987. His address is Jesuit Community: Boston Col-lege; Chestnut Hill, MA 02167. know: you're going to ask what I want. "As I was driving up to the retreat house, I thought of your perennial question: 'What do you want?' and here's what l~came up with." I have often noticed that peo-ple who see me for some time for spiritual direction or directed retreats say things like this. It even becomes a bit of humorous byplay, as though they want to beat me to the punch. Clearly, one of my favorite questions for directees is the one Jesus put to the two disciples who began to fol-low him: "What do you want?" (Jn 1:38). If directees pick up on this predilection and start asking themselves the question, then, I believe, a good deal of my work as spiritual director is done. If we know what we want in prayer, we are going to find our way. After a practical belief that God wants an intimate relationship with each one of us and that God is directly encountered in our experience, nothing is more important for the development of our relationship with God-~-for our prayer, in other words--than knowledge of what we want and of what God wants. In this article I want to discuss the role of desires in prayer. Anyone familiar with the Spiritual Exercises knows that among the preludes to every meditation or contemplation is: "I will ask God our Lord for what I want and desire." In the various stages or weeks of the Exercises, Ignatius states what the desire is in each case. For example, in the First Week I "ask for a growing and intense sorrow and tears for my sins," and in the Second Week I "ask .for an intimate knowledge 5 Review for Religious, January-February 1989 of our Lord, who has .become man for me, that I may love him more and follow him more closely." In an earlier article in the R~v~Ew, l tried to show that each of the desires of the Exercises is a desire for some par-ticular revelation by the Lord. ~ On the face of it, it looks as though Ignatius is saying: "Here is what you should desire at each stage of the Spiritual Exercises." One conclu-sion might be to take a person through the four Weeks and just put be-fore him or her what Ignatius gives as the desire. In fact, this has been the procedure in preached retreats, including the preached thirty-day re-treats we older Jesuits and other religious made in novitiate and tertian-ship. But what happened if, as a matter of fact, I did not really desire to know Jesus more intimately when the Second Week was presented to me. Suppose, for example, I was still too afraid of what he thinks of me. In most instan(es, I would guess, we just presumed that we had the de-sire if it was Second Week time. But I would contend that without the real desire we never got very intimate with Jesus. Indeed, I believe that "what we really desire" is diagnostic of the stage of the Exercises we are actually in. To demonstrate this thesis we need to look at the role of desires in any relationship. If you get a call from someone asking for a.meeting, is not your first question, at least to yourself, "What does she or he want?" In fact, many meetings between people come off badly because the individuals involved have mistaken ideas of what each other wants. For example, I want to become your friend, and you believe that I want help with home-work; you want to help me, but are not even thinking of a deeper friend-ship. At the end of the meeting both of us are going to be pretty frus-trated unless we talk about our different desires and come to some understanding. Often enough, too, relationships become frustrating be-cause of ambivalent or incompatible desires in one or both parties. For example, I want to get closer to you, but I am also afraid of you. Or I want a friendship with you (a happily married woman), but I also want to goto bed with you. Every intended encounter with another person is accompanied by a"desire or desires'. We are not always aware of our de-sires, but they are present, and they condition our behavior in the encoun-ter. Now suppose that I want to befriend you and you do not want my: friendship. Will my efforts :at befriending get me or you anywhere? Only to frustration and resentment, probably. But let us say that I persist in trying to do nice things for you. What will happen? You will probably get more and more irritated and thus less and less likely to become my Role of Desires in Prayer friend. And like many a "do-gooder" whose good deeds are rejected, I may eventually wash my hands of you and call you an ingrate who de-serves his fate. Friendship is possible only when the desires are mutual, when you freely desire my friendship and I freely desire yours. Friend-ship cannot be coerced. "But," someone may object, "we often do things that we don't want to do. Because of my friendship for you, for example, I will go to a movie I don't like." But what do you want? If it is because of friend-ship with me that you go to the movie, is not your deepest desire to please me or to be with me? The friendship is more important than the movie. I believe that the centrality of desire for the developing of a rela-tionship cannot be denied. Now let us look at the importance of desires for the relationship with the Lord. In the first chapter of John's gospel, the two disciples of John are intrigued by this Jesus whom John has just pointed out as the lamb of God. So they start following Jesus. When Jesus asks them what they want, they say, "Rabbi, where are you staying?" They do not yet have strong desires, it seems; curiosity seems to be the desire. Jesus does not disdain this desire. "Come," he replies, "and you will see." Unless we have some attraction toward God, some curiosity or hope or desire, we will not take the time to begin our side of the relationship. If I be-lieve in my heart and feelings that God is an ogre, ready to pounce on any infraction, then I may try to placate him, but I will never want to get close to him. And God, as it were, does handstands.to convince us that he really is benign, that he is, as Jesus asserted, Abba. The p.rofli-gate wonders of nature, our own creation and life, the words of Old and New Testaments, Jesus himself, and other loving, caring people in our lives--these are all signg of God's desire that we find him attractive and let him come close. But he cannot force himself on us, or will not. We must have some desire to get to know him better. Sebastian Moore af-firms that God's creative touch which desires us into being arouses in us a desire for "I know what," that is, a desire for the Mystery we call God.2 This experience (understood as the experience of one's creation and continued creation) can be seen as the affective principle and foun-dation for the development ofone's relationship with God. The desire for "I know what" is what makes' our hearts restless until they rest in God. Many people need help to recognize that they have such a desire. Be-cause of life's hurts they may not recognize any other desire but to be left alone, or not to be hurt any more. Telling such people that God is Review for Religious, January-February 1989 love has little or no effect. They may need help to admit to God that they are afraid of, him and desire to be less afraid. Indeed, they may need help to voice some of their anger at life's hurts which seem to them to have come from the Author of life. The fact that they have not completely turned away from religion indicates that they may still want something from God, even if only an acknowledgment that he knows what hap-pened to them in life. Like Job some may cry out: "Then know that God has wronged me and drawn his net around me. Though I c~'y, 'I've been wronged!' I get no response; though I call for help, there is no justice." Only after he has poured out his sorrows, seemingly, can he say: "I know that my Redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand upon the earth" (Jb ! 9:6-7.25). In other words, it may take a great deal of pas-toral care and patient spiritual direction for some people to come to the point where they can trust life and the Author of life enough to let into their consciousness the desire for "'I know what.'" Job's friends have tried to derail him from expressing his desires to God: In his misery he wants God to speak to him. He will not lie and say, as his friends insinuate,, that he deserves his calamities because of his sins. Hewill not accept the just-world hypothesis proposed by his friends according to which anyone's sufferings must be deserved. No, he knows~that he does not deserve the awful fate that has befallen him and desires to speak directly .to God and to hear God's answer. Often enough we Christians are like the friends of Job. To a mother who has just.lost her only child we might say, "God knows best." and thus make it difficult for her to voice her outrage at God and her need for God's own answer to this awful loss. Sometimes we feel that we have to de-fend God against the anger directed at him by people in pain. Yet the anger may be the most authentic way for a person to relate ~o God and to ex.press a desire to know God's response. Finally in chapters 38 through 41 God does answer Job out of the whirlwind. The response may not sound very comforting or apologetic to _us, but apparently Job is satisfied, for he says: "My ears had heard of you but.now, my eyes have seen you. Therefore I despise myself and repent in ~du.s.t and ashes." Moreover, then God speaks to Job's friends, "I am angry with you and your two friends, because yQu have not spo-ken of me what is~right, as my servant Job has" (Jb 42:5-7). Whatever else God's speech from the whirlwind means, it certainly does not mean that Jg~bohas lost God's friendship by voicing so strongly his desire to have God answer him. Another biblical instance of an attempt to derail a desire directed to- Role of Desires in Prayer ward God comes in the first chapter of the First Book of Samuel. Han-nah, one of the two wives of Elkanah, is barren and miserable. She wants a son. Her husband, seeing her weeping and fasting, says to her, "Han-nah, why are you weeping? Why don't you eat? Why are you down-hearted? Don't I mean more to you than ten sons?" In other words, Elka-nah wants Hannah to forget her desire and be satisfied with what she has. In the story we do not hear Hannah's reply, but her actions tell us that she is not put off by Elkanah's entreaties. She goes to the temple and "in bitterness of soul., wept much and prayed to the Lord." Indeed, when accused of drunkenness by Eli, the priest, she says, "Not so, my lord, I am a woman who is deeply troubled. I was pouring out my soul to the Lord." Hannah knows what she wants and is not afraid to tell God over and over what it is (I S 1:8, 10, 15). Often we tell ourselves or are told to quell our desires, to look at all the good we already have. We can be made to feel guilty and ungrateful for desiring what we want. But if we do suppress our desires without be-ing satisfied that God has heard us, then, in effect, we pull back from honesty with God. The result for our relationship with God often is po-lite distance or cool civility. Perhaps God cannot or will not grant what we want, but for the sake of the continued development of the relation-ship we need to keep letting him know our real desires until we are sat-isfi~ d or have heard or felt some response. In 2 Cbrinthians Paul says, "There was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to tor-ment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' " Now Paul could stop making known his desire because now he knew God's answer. "Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. :For when I am weak, then I am strong" (2 Co 12:7-10). Convictions such as Paul's come not from theological or spiritual nos-trums, but from the experienc~ of growing transparency between a Paul and the Lord. Too often we use the hard-won wisdom of a Paul to short-circuit a similar transparency in our own relationship with the Lord. A woman may, for example, be experiencing the "dark night of the soul" and not like it at all. Her desire may be for it to be removed. She may be helped by the knowledge that others have experienced the same thing before her and been the better for it, but such knowledge does not have to satisfy her desire to be rid of the "dark night." A short circuit in the Review for Religious, January-February 1989 relationship might occur if she is told by her spiritual director or tells her-self to squelch her desire "because the experience is good for you." What she needs to experience is God's response, not a theorem of spiri-tual theology. She needs to know (really, not notionally) that God does want this darkness for the good of their relationship. Such real knowl-edge comes only through mutual transparency. Most of the healing miracles of the New Testament depend on the desire of the recipient for healing.The example of the blind beggar Bar-timaeus (Mk 10:46-52) stands out, but is not unusual. "When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout, 'Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.' Many rebuked him and told him to be quiet, but he shouted all the more, 'Son of David, have mercy on me.' " Obviously Bartimaeus will not be hindered from expressing his desire by any num-ber of voices trying to quiet him. These "voices" can come from within us as well as from without, by the way. "Jesus won't have time for the likes of me; other people have more important problems; things aren't so bad." These interior voices may be expressing our ambivalence about being healed. Just as Bartimaeus had made a way of life out of his blindness, so too we may have made our own physical or psychological or sPiritual limitations a way of life and be afraid of what a future without them might be. One person on a retreat thought that he desired healing from a kind of dark-ness that seemed to rule his life. But then he heard the Lord ask, "Do you want me to heal you of this?" and he had to admit that he was not sure. Interestingly, he felt that God approved the honesty of his response. The inner voices may also express our fear of arousing strong desires for healing only to have them dashed. "Suppose I really want to be healed and I hear the answer Paul got? What a disappointment!''3 Desires are complex and often contradictory. However, once we have allowed the ambivalence and complexity of our desires to surface, we have some-thing else to ask the Lord about. In the Bartimaeus story Jesus calls him over and asks, "What do you want me to do for you?" Bartimaeus is quite clear and unambi-valent, "Rabbi, I want to see." "Go," says Jesus, "your faith has healed you." I have italicized Jesus' words. Without the faith of Barti-maeus, apparently, this miracle could not have occurred. The miracle re-quires a. partnership between Jesus' healing power and desire to heal and Bartimaeus' faith and desire to be healed. Indeed, Bartimaeus' desire is his faith in action. An example may help to illustrate this point. Once I was filled with Role of Desires in Prayer anger and self-pity about the turn a friendship had taken and thought that I was praying for healing. I was contemplating the story of the two blind men in Matthew 9:27-30. When Jesus asked them, "Do you believe that I am able to do this?" I knew immediately that I was not ready to give up my self-pity and anger. If I did desire healing, it was with the same "but not yet" desire with which Augustine at one time desired chastity. I did not have the "faith" found in the two blind men and in Barti-maeus, a faith that showed itself in unambivalent desire. Another exam-ple that shows how desire is faith in action is provided by the father of the boy with the evil spirit reported in Mark 9: 14-29. Instead of asking directly for a healing, the father said to Jesus, "But if you can do any-thing, take pity on us and help us." Because he did not believe in Jesus' power to heal, he could not desire the hea!ing directly. "If you can?" said Jesus. "Everything is possible for him who believes." To which the father replied, "I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief." In effect the man is saying, "Help me to desire healing." This last example brings us close to the hub of why desires are the raw material out of which relationships are made. In order for the heal-ing to occur, there must be a meshing of desires. Bartimaeus's desire for healing meets Jesus' desire to heal; without both desires there is no rela-tionship, at least no mutual relationship. This point is beautifully illus-trated in the story of the leper. "A man with leprosy came to him and begged him on his knees, 'If you are. willing, you can make me clean.' Filled with compassion, Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. 'I am willing,' he said. 'Be clean!' Immediately the leprosy left him and he was cured" (Mk 1:40-42). Clearly desire meets desire. The kind of relationship Jesus desires is a mutual one', where desire meets desire. The need for a partnership of.desires becomes even clearer when we look at friendship. In John 15:15 Jesus says, "I have called you friends," and then goes on to indicate what that means from his side, "for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you." From his side the desire has been to be fully transparent, to com-municate to them all that he is. His desire meets their desire to know him as fully as possible. Of course, full mutuality of friendship means that they desire to be fully transparent before him and he desires to know them fully. Take away one side of these desires and there no longer is a mutual relationship. Of course, on the apostles' part (and on ours) the mere desire for mu-tual transparency does not carry it off. "Between the cup and the lip . " Our desires are ambivalent and complex; we are fearful crea- 12 / Review for Religious, January-February 1989 tures, as well, and our fears get in the way of what we most deeply want. We need help and healing to grow toward mutual transparency with the Lord. But that help is available if we want it. If we notice, for example,, that we want to know Jesus better, but are afraid of the consequences, we can ask Jesus for help to overcome our fears. But again we notice that desire is the key to developing the relationship. The retreatant mentioned earlier who told God that he was not sure that he wanted healing of the darkness that ruled his life provides another example of the reciprocity of relationships. Later in the same day he be-came more sure that he wanted healing and asked the Lord to heal him. The Lord's response was perplexing; "I can't," he seemed to say. The retreatant was enraged at such a response when his own reluctance had been overcome, and he let God know in no uncertain terms. Yet still later in the day, out of the blue, as it were~ he heard the Lord say, "But we can." He knew immediately that the Lord meant that he could live more out of joy than sadness if he kept desiring the Lord's helpful presence rather 'than withdrawing into himself. "We can" meant partnership. At the beginning of this article, I stated that the real desires a person has are diagnostic of where the person is in terms of the four Weeks of the Exercises. Let me now return to that point. If retreatants do not have a real trust in God's loving care and providence, they will not desire that God reveal to them their sinfulness. Without an experienced-based be-lief in God's goodness and 16ve, without, in other words, what I have called earlier an affective principle and foundation, people are too fright-ened of God to be able to say and mean the last words of Psalm 139: "Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting" (23-24). If there is no such real desire, then the First Week of the Exercises is not on. And, it seems, at this point God's desire is not so much to reveal sinfulness as to convince the person that he is "Abba." Similarly, if a retreatant voices the desire to know Jesus in or-der love him more and to follow him more closely, yet in his prayer con-tinually identifies with those who need healing, perhaps his real desire is to be healed. The desire of the Second Week to know Jesus shows it-self in an interest in Jesus himself, his values, his emotions, his dreams, his apostolate. If the retreatant is not really interested in these matters, but continually focuses on his own needs and weaknesses, then the Sec-ond Week is not. really in progress. Jesus himself may at this time desire more to heal than to call to companionship. The difference between the First and Third Weeks also comes down to a difference in desire. In the Role of Desires in Prayer First Week I desire to know that Jesus forgives me (and us), that he died for my (and our) sins; the focus is on desiring to have a deep experience of how much Jesus loved us even though he knew how sinful we were. The desire of the Third Week is more to share the passion with Jesus in-sofar as this is possible. The focus is on what Jesus felt and suffered, and the desire is that he reveal that to me. Retreat directors, I believe, do their most important work when they help their directees to discover what they do in reality want. And so every retreat could begin with a con-templation of Jesus as he turns and says, "What do you want?" As re-treatants hear these words and let them penetrate their hearts, they will come to know better what they desire; in other words, they will know better who they are at this time in their relationship with the Lord. NOTES ~ "On Asking God to Reveal Himself in Retreat," REVIEW FOR REI.IOWOUS 37 (1978): 171-176; reprinted in David L. Fleming (ed.), Notes on the Spiritual Exercises of St. ignatius of Loyola (St. Louis: REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 1983), pp. 72-77. 2 Sebastian Moore, Let This Mind Be in You: The Quest for Identity Through Oedi-pus to Christ (Minneapolis: Winston-Seabury, 1985). 3 In another context I have discussed the courage of Bartimaeus. See "Surrender: Key To Wholeness," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 46 1987): 49-53. Perspectives on Parables and Prayer Donald Macdonald, S.M.M. Father Macdonald's most recent contribution to our journal was "A Pathway to God" (May/June 1988). His address continues to be: St. Joseph's; Wellington Road; Todmorden, Lancashire; 0L14 5HP England. A sister said that her annual retreat was less than satisfying because "the priest, who shall be nameless, seemed to spend a fair bit of time telling us how good he was. I nearly offered him a trumpet." My response was and is to wish that he could come for my annual retreat, if only to exer-cise my sense of humor, even though, as I suspect, he may be speaking tongue in cheek. If not, so much the better! This is not meant to be flip-pant, for it seems to me in recent years that retreats and such like are becoming more technical, esoteric, and managed. So often there has to be a title with content specified, ra~nging from privately directed to Bet- .ter World and charismatic, by way of the Spiritual Exercises, Inigo, Sadhana, Progoff, Zen, Yoga, and so much else; it seems a prudent step, therefore, to first inquire before one enters. The seeker for silence and stillness, for example, is likely to find an all-action organized retreat not a little off-putting. But it all seems so terribly earnest, with little humor. A retreat is undeniably important when seen as a chance for inspira-tion, encouragement, and vision, particularly if the opportunity comes only once a year. It is important that the Gospel is preached; arguably, over the years, some vocations may have gone by default, even among those who die as religious, inasmuch as the Good News, as the New Tes-tament would understand it, might not have been heard. It is sometimes asking much of a preacher during a retreat to try and shore up a creaking building on the verge of collapse when the day-by-day support has not been given. But what seems to happen today is a grasping for technique 14 On Parables and Prayer which is expected to provide the key to the Gospel. The search for the philosopher's stone is endemic. This, of course, may not be quite fair to someone who senses per-haps that "Thou [God] hast made us for thyself and our hearts are rest-less till they rest in thee" (Confessions 1:1).~ But expectation is not God, nor is disappointment nor, indeed, sat-isfaction. To set one's all on technique or the competence of the preacher or the receptivity of the audience is to risk losing everything. Humor will spare us that and much else. The late John Main, O.S.B., told a friend, a Ramakrishnan monk, who had asked him how he proposed to teach meditation, "Sit down, sit erect, say the mantra, and that's it.''2 His friend said that such an approach would never work with Westerners. It is so simple they will not believe you. His advice was to deliberately com-plicate it, saying you have esoteric knowledge which you can give only after they have been coming for at least ten weeks. Only then can t.hey be initiated. Throw in the name John Cassian for good measure. That should attract them. This raises a smile, as it is so close to reality as some of us observe it. A Greek Orthodox priest spoke similarly of students coming to his monastery asking to be initiated into the Jesus Prayer. "Say it." "But. ? . No, just say it." As you advance you need guidance. It is all rather deflating, for someone seeking the heights, to be told to begin at the beginning. It will be recalled that Peter L. Berger identified humor as one of his "signals of transcendence," a marvelous way out from all which might tend to dominate and frighten us in a seemingly locked-in world. It is crucial for perspective. "Laughter can show that power is ultimately' an illusion because it canno( transcend the limits of the empirical world. Laughter can--and does every time it relativizes the seemingly rocklike necessities of this world.''3 There is such a thing as gallows humor. Laughter can be a link with the divine and all that is, not just all that is here. How could a preacher or a community ever take themselves wholly seriously again after hearing this little story about a retreat director? He impressed a community as an obviously saintly man. His reputation grew as the week progressed--until he asked for meat on Friday. No saint would ever do that! On such are reputations built and lost. Favorite humorous authors such as P. G. Wodehouse or James Thurber can provide permanent links to God and reality. Once in their friendly and familiar company, we find space to simply relax and enjoy ourselves. We smile at Walter Mitty as we see ourselves in him. Our prob- 16 / Review for Religious,'January-February 1989 lems lessen in the face of what some of the Wodehouse characters have to meet. A Sergeant Bilko on black-and-white television can do as much. Holding on to the relative like this may help us see that there is always another chance--and if the Go.spei is to be believed, the time is now. I am far from underplaying the need for a properly prepared retreat or suggesting that one can laugh off whatever happens. Nor would I dis-count the value of any particular technique or approach. I would but say that everything here is relative and humor can help us see it. Father Enomiya-Lassalle once gave a day's Zen retreat to forty Korean novices, whose reaction was that "Up to now we used to have a scriptural text in our daily meditation to meditate on. Today for the first time we have felt that to meditate is to pray."4 One is grateful;for the sisters' experi. ence, but even if the priest had neve.r set foot in Korea, the providence of God would not have neglected them. Everything then can help, but nothing is essential. When the retreat .disappoints, all need not be lost. This is particularly so for those who know how to interpret their life in terms of Scripture. A fairly comprehensive experience convinces me that few can. If there is one cause of failure both in preacher and audience, it lies in the inability to do that. I would be astonished if novices knew how to do it, and very surprised to find it in the great majority of their senior brothers and sisters. One simple test is to listen for the Gospel when religious speak of what is happening to them and how they see it. The Gospel is the common coin of the Catholic Church, but many use it gingerly like a foreign currency. They do not know its value, or what to do with it. Authentic Sources 'Religious have been authoritatively urged that to genuinely live their calling they should draw "on the authentic sources of Christian spiritu-ality., in the first place they should take the Sacred Scriptures in hand each day" (Perfectae Caritatis, no. 6). Here faith and life are meshed as one. What a Jewish commentator, W. G. Plaut, said of the Torah, the Christian can wholeheartedly endorse for Scripture in its.entirety. "We hold that the Torah is a record of Israel's striving to meet God and un-derstand his will. In centuries of search, of finding and forgetting, of in-spiration and desperation, God touched the soul of his people and the sparks of these meetings burn in the pages of the Torah.' ,5 The "sparks of these meetings" are found in the pages of Scripture, and once prop-erly kindled they produce an enduring, not fitful, flame. In each meet-ing with God, which really means now, the religious by profession would wish his or her mind to be at one with the will of God, faith and life re- On Parables and Prayer flecting the one reality: "That man is Your best servant who is not so much concerned to hear from You what he wills as to will what he hears from You"(Confessions 10:26). That distinction is crucial, and none knew better than Augustine how hard it was to really make the transi-tion. All of us are innately self-centered, easily deceived. It is, then, prac-tical to go to the authentic sources of the Church's tradition, where "in the centuries of search, of finding and forgetting. God touched the soul of his people." Even Augustine intuitively seems to have felt this in his search for God. "I absolutely refused to entrust the care of my sick soul to the philosophers, because they were without the saving name of Christ. and whatever lacked that name, no matter how learned and excellently written and true, could not win me wholly" (Confessions 5: 14; 3:4). So while the attraction for God in Christ and authenticity was there, Augustine could not at first bring himself to find this, least of all in Scripture. He tells us honestly why: "So I resolved to make some study of the Sacred Scriptures and find what kind of books they were . My conceit was repelled by their simplicity, and I had not the mind to penetrate into their depths" (Confessions 3:5). He lacked "sincerity, openness of mind and that fundamental rev-erence which is a willingness to be commanded" which one who went deeper than most saw as minimum requirements before the Bible can do anything for a person.6 It is so hard to change one's mind radically, and that lovely quality of fundamental reverence before Scripture Js rarely found, especially in those who like to do things their own way--which means all of us, but for the grace of God. ~ Augustine was later to envy the Church's faithful whom he had once patronized as ignorant and unlettered. Once he himself had discovered the treasure which they so nonchalantly possessed, how his perspective changed: "Of what great harm to Your little ones was their far slower intelligence: since they strayed not far from You and so could fledge their wings in safety in the nest of Your Church, and nourish the wings of char-ity with the food of solid faith?" (Confessions 4:16). In thus moving from inauthentic to authentic existence as he saw it, he now realized that his "superior" stance was only that of the man with the empty stomach who does not know where to find food, in his case, "the food of solid faith." The search, tension, and struggle are perhaps heroic and the stakes are life or death, but nothing is gained by patronizing those who sit down each day at a full table. He finally knocked at their door and asked to come in and share what they had. Again his perspective changed: "It is with utter certainty that I love You. You have stricken Review for Religious, January-February 1989 my heart with Your word and I have loved You" (Confessions 10:6). It is well known that an appar.ently chance reading of Romans 13 and 14 finally enabled Augustine to see. Now from within the heart of the Church he is convinced that "Thou [God] didn't touch me, and I have burned for thy peace" (Confessions 10:27). This is not notional knowl-edge enabling him to speak to his intellectual peers, but the real insight given him by the word of God from within the Church enabling him to see faith and life as one. The sparks of the earlier meetings with God are now aflame in re-sponse to his word. His life and perspective are transfigured. It is per-haps not without its underlying humor to see this gifted man, with many of the gli~tering prizes within his grasp, now held enthralled by the faith of his mother and her nurse (see Confessions 9:8). He had traveled for miles and years searching for what he had left at home. If religious had this innate feeling of fundamental reverence before Scripture, always subordinating themselves to the word, never dominat-ing it, they might more easily warm to the sparks of the meetings with God in their own daily life, and so find a flame which they could never leave. Even among the trumpet calls of a preacher's self-proclaimed ex-cellence, the word of God isthere if one knows how to listen, but it is unlikely to be heard unless one is habitually doing this. That perspec-tive is all-important. A practical illustration may perhaps make the point. A Treasure Found Parables form much of the Gospel, and few strike a cord with the religious vocation more than "the kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field" (Mt 13:44). Taken from life, it is meant to make us think. What is being said here? We under-stand what is being said, of course, but we are meant to assimilate its implications. Its dynamic is as powerful as Christ is real. Insofar as I be-lieve that God in Christ is here speaking to me, I shall respond and so attempt to make the Gospel my own. In fact, that parable, for many, is little more than an interesting analogy. It is a helpful example, an exter-nal, verbal, and indeed visual aid, as useful in the junior school as in the religious community. Precisely because that may not unfairly be de-scribed as the most usual understanding of the parable, the true perspec-tive is little known, and so those words scarcely ever spark into a flame. If that is compared with the approach to parables of T. W. Manson in a fine book first published over fifty years ago and often reprinted, we will find ourselves in another world where the sparks of the meeting On Parables and Prayer between Christ and ourselves can really catch fire. He says: Jesus is not concerned to demonstrate that God exists but rather to show the nature of the God whose existence is common ground for him and his audience. His aim is not to make God an article of faith but the ob-ject of faith. We are often concerned to make God probable to man; .he set out to make God real to them. It is this fact which makes parable the inevitable form in which the teaching of Jesus on the nature and ways of God should be delivered . The true parable., is not an illus-tration to help one through a theological discussion. It belongs to the same order of things as altar and sacrifice and prayer, the prophetic vi-sion and the like . It is a way in which religious faith is attained, and, as far as it can be, transmitted from one person to another. It is not a crutch for limping intellects but a spur to religious insight. Its object is not to provide simple theological instruction but to produce living re-ligious faith.7 This is Scripture seen from the inside. How many readers of this page honestly think like that? If religious habitually think in those terms, it seems to me that they keep it well hidden. Could the average reader echo, from experience, all that Manson sees--parable, the obvious teach-ing medium to make God real . . . a mode of religious experience on the same plane as altar, sacrifice, prayer, and insight., a way in which faith is attained, not a crutch for limping intellects., producing living religious faith? The easiest way to answer such questions is to ask: What did we feel when the parable was first quoted--' 'the kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field."? If Manson was articulating what we have long known and felt, the resonances first produced by the par-able will still be there on the level of faith, not necessarily feeling. His comment would then simply buttress what we know to be true. Is our faith like a treasure found? Is this what has brought us to religious life? Is it a superb insight into reality? Is any sacrifice worthwhile to really possess it? What do we give in view of what we ~et? Can this treasure in any sense be found through the medium of an imperfect preacher? Do these words hold us up as they obviously show us up? One has to ask questions and link details together for the purposes of writing, but if the parable is properly assimilated to any degree, it is better to be silent and still and let the image absorb us and lead us where it will. We are then on the level of altar, sacrifice, prayer, and insight, willingly or even grudgingly, in view of the demands, letting ourselves be drawn into God through his Word. Perspectives that we perhaps know notionally are opened up to limitless horizons. Faith, not feeling, is seek- 20 / Review for Religious, January-February 1989 ing to really understand. For years we have known the parable by heart. Have our hearts ever got the point and made it our own? Only silence and wonder stemming from fundamental reverence will do that. Fundamental Reverence For some years now virtually all religious communities have the for-mal daily prayer of the Church as their morning and evening prayer. In-variably, individuals or groups are given charge of liturgy and prayer, which generally means that coming to daily prayer one has to first find out what has been rearranged. Pages have to be marked, hymns noted, and alternative readings attended to. The pattern is rarely predictable. All this is done, one hears, because the community wants it, for the ordi-nary daily office is boring and repetitive. This constant adaptation is then seen as a practical attempt to engage the community in really meaning-ful prayer. In view of what has already been said, much of this suggests that those who foster or want this, apart from the risk of choosing only what-ever has personal appeal, may have no real feeling for Scripture, which may be why continual rearrangement is felt to be necessary to hold at-tention. This is, of course, the technique of the junior school, .where the children's attention span is limited and meaning has to be immediate. Yet if one receives~a line, phrase, sentence, or sentiment of Scripture on the level of altar, sacrifice, prayer, or insight, one just cannot keep chang-ing the focus without fragmenting the reality. Even to move, pick up a hymnbook, attend to alternative prayer or reading, or in general to be .never quite sure what is happening next, can be to break concentration. There may be some gain in alertness but, arguably, loss in continu-ity and assimilation. The Psalms and readings from the daily office have not yet been heard for the first time as Augustine, Manson, the Jewish commentator Plaut, and others would understand it, and will never be if one constantly changes the focus of attention in terms of relevance. One is all the time being brought up to the surface, never left long enough to go down to the depths. Ideally, the Psalms and readings could be so predictable that one almost knows them without turning the page. Only then do they have a chance of becoming part of ourselves so that we can truly listen, not just hear. Fundamental reverence would ask no less. But, however well intentioned, when one has to scan the board for the next item on .the agenda of prayer, or wait for the inspiration of a colleague, one is perhaps paying too high a price for spontaneity. The seemingly prosaic parable as a "spur to religious insight" must be in-vited to speak, not ordered to. On Parables and Prayer When Scripture is approached like this in the context of prayer, what one hears matters little. In time, perhaps less and less comes to mean more and more. It has not been and cannot be quite assimilated. Occa-sionally its relevance may be all too clear, as when, on the morning fol-lowing news of the horrific deaths of the seven astronauts in January 1986, one read: "Naked I came from my mother's womb, naked I shall return. The Lord gave, the Lord has taken back. Blessed be the name of the Lord. If we take happiness from God's hand, must we not take sorrow too?" (Jb 1:21, 2:10). Even if the words appear as dull as a school textbook, it does not matter. Nor does immediacy or surface mood. On the level of prayer, altar, sacrifice, and insight, it is one's faith responding to God that makes the connection. In time the words will peel away and matter less and less as one is held in faith, just as a smile or wave from a friend has a mean-ing out of all proportion to the action. It is a perspective on reality for which one is grateful. NOTES t The Confessions of St. Augustine, translated by F. J. Sheed (London: Sheed and Ward 1944). All references to The Confessions are from here. 2 John Main, O.S.B., "Christian Meditation," The Grail, 1978, p. 19. 3.Peter L. Berger, A Rumor of Angels (Penguin Books, 1971), p. 91. 4 The Tablet, London, January I 1, 1986, pp. 31-32. 5 The Torah, W. G. Plaut and B. J. Bamberger (New York: Union of American He-brew Congregation, 198 I), p. 1294. 6 C. H. Dodd, The Authority of the Bible [1929] (Fontana Paperback, 1962), p. 269. 7 T. W. Manson. The Teaching of Jesus (CUP, 1931; paperback, 1963), pp. 72-73. The Gift of Not Giving Jane Kammer C.S.Bo In our issue of January/February 1983, we published Sister Jane's "Three Times I Asked: Reflections on Weakness." She is a pastoral associate at St. Benedict Church in San Antonio. She may be addressed at 5107 Ozark; San Antonio, Texas 7820 I. So Jesus said to them, 'Well, then, pay to the Emperor what belongs to the Emperor and pay to God what belongs to God ' (Mt 22:21). "Jesus exclaimed, 'You ask me for a miracle? No! The only mir-acle you will be given is the miracle of the prophet Jonah' " (Mt 12:39). "As Jesus was getting into the boat, the man who had had the de-mons begged him, 'Let me go with you!' But Jesus would not let him"(Mk 5:18-19). A popular Christian saying and song is "God loves a cheerful giver." Giving has been exalted as a hallmark of Christianity, and so it is. Didn't our leader, Jesus, give his very life to show us God's great love? Giving has also been extolled as the virtue of the ideal Christian woman. For most of her life, my mother gave. She waited on my father; she gave of herself for her children. For all but the last few years of her life, I never heard her say no to anyone who asked a favor. But after she had grieved over my father's death, a change took place in my mother. At sixty-two she learned to drive a car; she went on vacations; she joined groups and clubs; and she began to say no to requests she really did not want to fulfill. She had discovered another dimension of giving. Giving is not always healthy for the giver or for the receiver. It is not true respect when I continually do for another what the person can do for him/herself. I am beginning to learn the gift of not giving. Teilhard de Chardin said, "Your essential duty and desire is to be 22 The Gift of Not Giving united with God. But in order to be united you must first of all be --be yourself as completely as possible. And so you must develop yourself and take possession of the world in order to be. Once this has been ac-complished, then is the time to think about renunciation; then is the time to accept diminishment for the sake of being in another. Such is the sole and twofold precept of complete Christian asceticism" (The Divine Mi-lieu [New York: Harper and Row, 1960], pp. 70-71). I believe that part of developing myself is learning, through practice, the gift of not giving to everyone who seems to ask. If I continually place my focus on others, then I cannot really give myself in love to them, for I do not have a self to give. It is my task to discover and develop the unique person God intends for me to be. I am codependent. To me that means I tend to place my center out-side of myself. I am inclined to seek affirmation and validation from some-one else. I feel safest when giving, not receiving. I am a people pleaser who fears rejection. Taking things personally and blaming myself for whatever seems less than perfect are aspects of my codependence. I have lived with many "shoulds" from the past which I have interiorized. In many ways my life repeats the story of my mother. But it is not too late to refocus my center within myself. I can learn to allow the true "me" to emerge from within. In time I can become a self-validating, self-affirming person whose peace is permanent and whose happiness does not depend on the mood of another. If I stay with myself, I can learn to love and accept myself as I am, even while want-ing to change some things about myself. I can give myself the gift of not giving up on the real, beautiful, and exciting "me." Moreover, I can learn to give the gift to others of responsibility for themselves. By re-fusing to absorb and carry the emotions of others, I will gift them with the faith that they are capable of living their own lives, making their own decisions, and caring for themselves. One morning I attended a meeting of four people who work in the same field. One of the workers continually griped and complained. Ne-gativity flowed out of her every word and facial expression. At the end of the session, I felt depressed, oppressed, and.burdened. I had absorbed into myself the flow of her negativity. But I can give myself the gift of not taking responsibility for other people's feelings, for others' pleasant or unpleasant feelings. I can maintain my joy, peace, and positive out-look if I am aware of my tendencies and if I give myself the gift of not giving in to codependence. I can learn to trust other people to run their own lives. I can deepen my trust in God. Review for Religious, January-February 1989 As codependent I also try to control others, though I may not be aware that I am doing so. I have not seen my friend for quite a while. I miss him or her. I may long with emotional intensity to see and be with my friend again. This is all right; this is me~ I fall into codependence, however, when I expect my friend to feel the same emotions that I do, the same strong loneliness. Because he/she feels differently does not mean that we are no longer friends. We are still connected by the bonds of love and the union of our spirits, but my friend is entitled to his/her own emotional swings. Occasionally we may both experience the same feelings, but that just happens; it cannot be programmed. By giving the gift of not giving my friend the task of living up to my expectations, I free him/her to be a unique self, and I free myself from the frustration of unmet expectations. As I grow, I learn the gift of n6t giving allegiance to everything that is said about,~me, even when it is said by significant others in my life. Opefiness to consider feedback is good and necessary for growth, but I can take the comments offered, test them sincerely against what I know of my true self, and decide to allow them to influence me or reject them as not fitting. More and more I stand free: receptive but able to make choices and.changes for myself. Each of us operates out of a specific personality type. I know that those "unacceptable" aspec.ts of myself, my "shadow," can become for me sources of undreamt growth and expansion. If I am introverted, recognition' of the shadow invites me to promote the development of more assertiveness, more sociability. By taking up the challenge of my "opposites," I give myself the gift of not giving in and becoming com-pletely immersed in my dominant qualities. I also give to others the gift of my expanded personality., my versatility to be reflective and quiet, and to be spontaneous and outgoing. I then realize that I have the potential to grow in all qualities of personality. Giving the gift of not giving can be risky. This is especially so if one is looked upon as a professional "helper." 1 am supposed to rescue peo-ple, or so it is often assumed. But the divine in me nudges me to grow and to foster my own "undependence" so that I do not need to rescue in order to feel worthy or worthwhile. I can then rejoice with the other in his/her efforts that lead to confidence, success, self-esteem, and de-victimization. When I encourage the other to look within her/himself for the indwell-ing God, the source of strength and goodness, then the other's success in dealing with difficulties is truly authentic and lasting. I become, not The Gift of Not Giving a rescuer or savior, but a real companion and friend. Recently a friend said to me, "I am upset over certain events that have taken place lately. I feel I can share with you about those situations because you are concerned and will give your support and prayers, but you won't take on my problems and become as upset as I am, and so be-come an added problem and burden to me. And you won't smother me with sympathy either." I consider those remarks a confirmation of the rightness of the gift of not giving and an uncovering of the true meaning of compassion. Jesus gave the gift of not giving. He refused to give direct answers to the Pharisees who were trying to trap him. He did not allow them to control him or his mission. Jesus did not perform miracles for those un-believers. He refused to compromise himself in order to please them. He did not even accept the adoration of the man who was cleansed from evil. Jesus will not allow us to follow him out of coercion or ignorahce. We must make up our own minds. He gave us the gift of not giving easy answers; he taught in parables. Jesus leaves us free and invites us to re- .sponsible living and loving. He refuses to take on our responsibility for ourselves and our world even though we often try to put on him th~ blame for our misfortunes and our mistakes. o Christ's peace was from within. He was "self-centered," anchored in the depths of his love springing from deep within. We too are chal-lenged to anchor in the gift of self that we find within, put there by God. One way to self is through the gift of not giving. Chapters and Structures William F. Hogan, C.S.C. Father Hogan wrote "The Cross Reconsidered" for our issue of March/April ! 988. His address remains: Fratelli Cristiani; Via della Maglianelli, 375; 00166 Roma, It-aly. Postconstitution chapters in most congregations take a very different form from those in which much labor was directed to working out, concept by concept, word by word, texts of constitutions to be submitted for ec-clesiastical approval. If there was perplexity in some institutes as to what a chapter would do when there were no more constitutions to write, the wonderment soon dissolved as attention was focused on the principal calls of the times: justice, peace, preferential option for the poor, sim-plification of lifestyle, apostolic spirituality, and so forth. Less legisla-tion emerged from the chapters; the accent was on setting immediate goals for administrations and planning steps for implementation of di-rection by the community: simple documents of challenge for reflection, inspiration, action. A variety of formulas, techniques, and approaches have been used to provoke a deep listening to the Spirit during sessions and to share the chapter's reflections and concerns with the larger con-gregation. Our times have seen much effort and creativity to make chap-ters meaningful experiences, and more will be needed in the future be-cause there is no magical formula that can cover every set of concerns or apply to all chapter circumstances. The uniqueness of each chapter will demand an approach suitable to its particularity: what works for one may very well not be beneficial to another. The experience of many congregations would advocate that it is not necessary for chapters to go over every element of the life of a congre-gation, as ordinarily done in the past, because there are so many other 26 Chapters and Structures participative structures in place between chapters. More effective results emerge when one topic is pursued in depth and the congregation's ef-forts are channeled in a particular direction. At the same time it is im-portant that a chapter and other community organs related to a chapter devote some attention to important points other than the principal topic. The 1983 code of Canon Law determines a number of issues to be treated in the particular law of religious congregations, and these fall under the responsibility of a general chapter. Most of these matters have been leg-islated in the constitutions; there is widespread reluctance to touch them after experiencing the difficulties of having constitutions approved, even when a group intellectually acknowledges the need for modifications. Oth-ers are taken up in the secondary book and should be reviewed by the chapter, even though its primary thrust is not concerned with the particu-lar law as such. There are ways of accomplishing this so as not to dis-tract from the major chapter consideration--for example, through the use of an ad hoc committee reviewing the legislation and making recommen-dations to the assembly. Without this review there is always the possi~ bility of a gap developing between living and the calls of the Spirit to move forward in mission. One of the most basic areas not to be overlooked is that of the struc-tures of government, where there are many questions deserving ongoing congideration even though structures are usually treated in the constitu-tions and considered of more permanent nature than rfiatters'of the sec-ondary book. Frequently the particular law of a congregation will state that structures are for the mission:, that the participation of the institute in the continuing mission of Jesus is the determining factor for structures of authority and government and the division of a congregation into life-promoting and mission-serving units. It .is far too easy to let the concept of structures for mission become a dead letter, since the mission is not staticbut constantly undergoing variables. Reflective vigilance is needed to take into account the changing factors of the mission of Jesus today and be at the service of the mission in fact and not just in word. This is especially true in international congregations with their divi-sions into provinces, regions, sectors, and so forth, but finds application also'in national and diocesan groups. Religious institutes are experienc-ing decreases in some of their internal divisions because of aging, loss of members, and other factors with the result that some previously sta-ble units no longer appear capable of maintaining the autonomy neces-saryto function as a unit in the same way. In not a few instances there is occurring a reversal of what have up to this point been geographical Review for Religious, January-February 1989 central and peripheral areas in congregations; then, too, there often is dis-persion of individuals and communities, along with new forms of com-munity. New foundations in third-world countries being made by differ-ent provinces of the same congregation point to a need for a networking among them to provide for sharing of experiences and insights, even if situations are not yet sufficiently clear to establish more permanent struc-tures. And surely, sufficient reflection on the units of a congregation will give rise to other situations in need of monitoring. Canon law and practice leaves the regulation of internal divisions to the individual institute and the authority therein determined, as long as the basic points of the approved constitutions are followed. These latter often allow for more flexibility than seems apparent at first glance; where there may be lacking the necessary suppleness, recourse should be had to the appropriate Church authority. A desire for survival may force the issue of restructuring in some congregations rather than a more overt con-cern that structures serve the mission; whatever be the motivation in fact, watchfulness is called for and the occasion of a chapter provides an op-portunity to exercise a healthy vigilance. Reflection on structures is not meant to pull religious in on them-selves, but outwards to furthering the work of Christ and promoting the qualitative dimension of ministry, life, and contribution to the local Church--lest there be a discrepancy between what we say of ourselves in principle and the reality of what we live. Connected with this reflec-tion is the issue of identity and charism, in the sense that the question at times arises whether to bolster the presence of the congregation in one part of the world through bringing new members from countries where vocations are still in abundance or simply to let the presence eventually fade out of existence. The tendency is to give an answer in terms of the works the religious are doing and whether the apostolates should be con-tinued; yet there is a deeper element than simply the works: Are the re-ligious bringing anything different in terms of witness to the local Church that others cannot effect? Not just a question of doing, but the reality of being: How are we in wha~ we do? No simple answers can be given to this; much soul-searching about the identity to which we witness is en-tailed. And if there is nothing .particular being shared with the local Church in terms of charism, it may be that the Spirit is saying that the congregation's presence is no longer gifting the local Christian commu-nity. A number of other matters concerning authority structures deserve periodic consideration, such as terms of office, interimsbetween chap- Chapters and Structures / 29 ters, and whether chapters are the only or best vehicles to accomplish the promotion of the mission and life. Many congregations have gone through a number of changes during the last two decades concerning the duration of offices because of concern with people being in positions too long, the need for freshness of vision in monitoring change and the cur-rents of the times, and the promotion of participation and development of individuals' gifts and talents. Sometimes in addressing one set of val-ues and making decisions in accord with them, experience shows that other values suffer and perhaps there is conflict in trying to integrate all the facets. Thus some congregations have gone full circle and returned to their original terms of office after various experiments; others have opted for a longer nonrenewable mandate; and still others have deter-mined upon several shorter terms. It would be idealistic to think that the workable formula reached for the present should not be open for recon-sideration if changing circumstances would indicate the need for another solution. Frequently religious Speak of the amount of energy that is expended in preparing chapters and implementing their decisions and orientations; also of the insufficiency of time between chapters for a congregation to realize the implications of chapter decisions before being moved on as a group to other subject matters. The frustrations sometimes expressed in this regard, in conjunction with fatigue over the number of meetings in which religious at times have to participate on different levels, raise the issue of whether there are other ways to accomplish the goals with-out the mechanism of chapters so regularly and all that is entailed therein, and still preserve and foster the principles of members working together toward policies of life and mission. Creativity of thought is needed here to safeguard the values intended by the structure of chapter and at the same time to prevent excessive use of energy that could be more directly channeled toward mission. Further, it might prove opportune from time to time to reflect on some of the points brought over into religious structures from corpora-tion models to assure the rights of individuals and promote participation. Some were needed to correct abuses or remedy problem areas at a par-ticular time. Are they still needed? Has something been lost from the com-munity- of-faith dimension while stressing organizational approaches? Where is the congregation now in the balance of values? Some benefi-cial insights could be gained by a congregation relative to structures for mission from treating these and similar questions. Not to be overlooked either would be the number of people involved :30 / Review for Religious, January-February 1989 in community administration full time: too few? too many? enough for the needs of mission on the part of the congregation? How do we under-stand these needs now, taking into account the concept of community for mission and the need for good government and sufficiently broad-based decision making? The answer given at one time will apply only as long as circumstances remain basically the same: hence the need for periodic review. To look at some of these issues of structure from the viewpoint of service of the mission and the community's growth for mission may ap-pe. ar as an invitation to furiher instability in religious life; perhaps it would involve furthe~r unsettling, but in terms--hopefully--of the unset-tling aspe~zts of Jesus' message and mission a~d of the mentaJity of foun-ders and foundresses. Their primary passion, in following Jesus,,was to reveal the Father's love and assist others to experience it in their lives; institutionalization of religious life and structures as such generally arose after the founders' times. Stability of life is an important aspect of relig-ious life; it is expressed in the Church's definitions of consecrated life (see can. 573,1). However, stability must not be equated with no change, especially when the mission that gives meaning to the consecrated life demands change. Stability demands serious prayerful reflection on the whole issue of change, keeping our vision focused 'on the person of Je-sus arid his mission today. And while we concentrate our ,energies and attention on the great sweeping calls of the Spirit of Jesus as reiterated through the Church, we must also keep alert to whether internal struc-tures are enabling for response to mission. Meta-Expectations and the General Chapter J. Roberta Rivello, S.S.J. Sister J. Roberta Rivello is a Sister of Saint Joseph of Philadelphia. She is currently Dean of Graduate Studies Division at Chestnut Hill College in Philadelphia; prior to that she was research analyst for the Department of Army where she worked for the past seven years. This paper is about the difference between expectations reasonably held and "meta-expectations," and what happens when "meta-expecta-tions" are part of the agenda for a general chapter in religious institutes. Having to deal with these meta-expectations in the general chapter may be a part of the reason why so many religious institutes find themselves, in the years immediately following a general chapter, in the midst of a good deal of frustration, anger, even~outright rejection of some of the mandates of the general chapter. I believe this occurs because many of the expectatio.ns explicitly ex-pressed by the members of an institute are clearly not the substantive con-tent for the general chapter to consider. When a religious institute re-quests from the membership proposals, recommendations, and sugges-tions prior to a general chapter, it may be of some benefit to explain at the same time what is reasonable for the members to expect from the chap-ter, and to provide some criteria for arriving at the proper methods for expressing those expectations to the chapter delegates. Part of this edu-cation could include guidance into what constitutes "reasonable expec-tations," and how to differentiate between these and what I term "meta-expectations." I use the term rneta-expectations as a phenomenological description for the kinds of aspirations and expectations which are not structurally 31 Review for Religious, January-February 1989 . and substantively significant to the issues ~hich h~ive been identified as chapter material. Persons who express such "meta-expectations" through their proposals and letters certainly do not perceive them as meta-expectations-- or they would not submit them. I believe it is the job of the prechapter committees to communicate to those who submit such pro-posals, even personally if possible, why it is that their expectations are not reasonable for the chapter to include in its portfolio of proposals. Do-ing this would eliminate some of the postchapter frustration, even if in-itially the explanation is quite difficult to accept. A general chapter may, for example, need to deal with spirituality and prayer as they relate to the charism of the institute, and proceeds to invite proposals to that effect. When the proposals are reviewed, how-ever, it is found that some members have expressed a variety of expec-tations which~ are, not substantive.ly identifiable with the charism and spiri-tuality of the institute. If these .expectations were to become content for the~delegates' consideration during the chapter, they could seriously im-pair the effectiveness of chapter deliberations and could ultimately erode the charis~n itself of the institute. The "mandates" of a general chapter are simply directives with en-forcement p.ower. These mandates deal with matters which have an im~ pact on the~members' sPiritual development, community life, prayer, ap-ostolic works, or other important areas which are integral to the life of a religious.The precise direction which the general chapter should take is undergirded by the constitutions and charism of the institute. Whatever else, a chapter accomplishes, it ought to accomplish the ful-fillment of its members' first-order reasonable expectations. These rea-sonably held expectations, in turn, ought to flow from the institute's spiri-tuality and charism. Ageneral ch.apter,, however, need not attend with great detail to ful-filling second-order expectations since these do not necessarily consti-tute the ne'cessary and sufficient matter for a general chapter to entertain. It is these latter which I term meta-expectations. Meta-expectations are something which a newly elected leadership might need: to consider sometime soon after entering into their term of office. But religious institutes which choose to concern themselves with such non-reasonable expectations during the general.chapter frequently find that there are.significantly sharp differences between the way the dele-gates perceive of the proposals presented to them and the way the pro-posing me,.mbers perceive the resulting chapter mandates. They will ac-cept the mandates accord.ing to what their expectations were prior to gen- Meta-Expectations and the Chapter eral chapter. Even in the Church today there is a growing sense that religious in-stitutes are experiencing very serious differences in the way the mem-bership perceives the outc0me of general chapters. This is partially due to the way general chapters often conduct their prechapter preparations and the way that Chapters of Affairs are conducted. These differences in perception and interpretation area result of the failure to differentiate between the reasonable expectations and the meta-expectations of the in-stitute's membership. This failure further fragments the members and their acceptance of the mandates and authority of the chapter. In this paper I will try to clarify what are reasonable expectations for a general chapter, and to show the difference between reasonable expec-tations and meta-expectations and how they influence the general chap-ter, Conflict between these two kinds of expectations can exist whenever expectations of any kind are elicited and aroused. For example, if one is invited to dinner, it is all right to expect something to eat but it is not reasonable to expect filet of beefi That is a meta-expectation, and while it may not be wrong to hold such a meta-expectation, it certainly is not reasonable; nor need the host meet it. Neither should the one holding such a meta-expectation be disappointed or offended if the host does not ~erve filet! More relevant to our discussion are the expectations religious have about their general chapters especially when preparations for them evoke strong expectations among the members as well as among the delegates. As I gtated above, two. of the things which ought to be simultane-ously evolving in the months prior to a chapter are how to identify and clarify the proper content for consideration and how to prepare both dele-gates and members to be able to differentiate between meta-expectations and reasonable expectations. It is reasonable for members of a religious institute to e£pect its gen-eral chapter to ~nandate programs for renewal, for spiritual development, for apostoli6 works, and for good community life. But it is not.reason-able to (xpect it to'decide how the membership ought to rest and relax, even thou'gti such matters are very important and time arid thou~ht~ought to be given to their consideration. It is as unreasonable for the member-ship to expect this to be considered as it would 'be for the general chap-ter to consider it---even if some of the delegates want it added to the agenda. The business of a general chapter is to redesign the future of the institute as it finds itself called to reveal Christ to the world in its con-temporary situation. This is its first-order work and is the only claim any- Review for Religious, January-February 1989 one can reasonably make on a general chapter. If the institute is true to its charism, the general chapter will succeed in fulfilling reasonable ex-pectations, and a newly elected leadership, or a reelected leadership, will be confirmed and authorized in working together to find ways and means to carry out what the chapter has mandated. In doing so, general administration should act in such a way that it further clarifies the difference between reasonable expectations and meta-expectations. Acting thus after the chapter assures continuity as well as flexibility in the institute's lived-out charism, since it preserves the in-tegrity of the institute's constitutions even while assuring versatility in their application to the reality that presents itself here and now.~ After all, it is in the real world that the institute exists, and its contemporary situation should be the focus of the institute's energies if it is to survive. If, however, the general chapter takes into consideration everything sub-mitted to it, the real essence of the institute's life becomes obscured. In addition, every proposal presented to the chapter contains its own par-ticular character and language which force the delegates to unpack its meaning before addressing the issue it contains. By sifting out the recta-expectations from the agenda, the delegates will be freed to concentrate on the constitutions and charism of the institute and to interpret the con-temporary situation in light of the Gospels for the world the institute is called to serve. There is good evidence that the bishops did this in Vatican II docu-ments. The document Lumen Gentium shows that they were aware of their .responsibility to separate out the recta-expectations from the rea-sonable ones.2 Their emphasis was on common-good considerations. Common-good considerations evolve from whatever the community has in common, not from things incidental to it. I believe this is why the docu-ments are clearly and straightforwardly parousial (expectant), so fitting for a Church in labor to reveal Christ to the world. For religious insti-tutes, the emphasis should also be on the common good, that is, on what the institute holds in common and what it shares as an institute in labor to reveal Christ to the world. For religious, this is found in their consti-tutions and in the charism of its founding. The document Perfectae Cari-tatis expresses the expectation of the Church about what it believes re-ligious institutes are called to be: Religious should carefully consider that through them, to believers and nonbelievers alike, the Church truly wishes to give an increasingly clearer revelation of Christ. Through them Christ should be shown con-templating on the mountain, announcing God's kingdom to the multi- Meta-Expectations and the Chapter / 35 tude, healing the sick and the maimed, turning sinners to wholesome fruit, blessing children, doing good to all, and always obeying the will of the Father who sent him.3 Rather than stating the expectations of religious, the document states what it is the Church expects of the religious institutes. This sense of expectation is not alien to either the Old or New Tes-taments. Scriptures retell the sacred history of a people filled with ex-pectation for a Messiah. For some, that expectation was misplaced or mis-focused so that when the Messiah came, when the expectation was ful-filled, they did not recognize it. Likewise, the message of Christ was clearly a statement of what it was he expected of us as we await his sec-ond coming. It is this same degree of expectation which is the ground-ing for religious institutes coming into being in the first place, that is, to reveal Christ to others even as we await (expect) his second coming. At this time some institutes are preparing for their chapter. A great deal of preparation will take place, I am sure. Included in that prepara-tion should be some education on what constitutes reasonable expecta-tions for the membership to have and how to express those expectations in proposals, letters, and prechapter committee work. I believe that some of the meta-expectations expressed prior tochapter in proposals to the general chapter are the result of excessive reliance on congregational and personal self-analyses which, in turn, rely too heavily on current statis-tics, social analysis, and popular trends. This tendency is best described as the historicist versus the historical view of events.4 Both views are needed but if they are not balanced, the religious institutes are robbed of either their historical tradition and dynamism (charism) or of insights derived from knowledge of the cultural and intellectual shifts occurring in society. Needless to say, I believe the omission of either is wrong. In fact, one of the tasks of the general chapter is to ensure that the bal-ance between both perspectives is maintained. Furthermore, an advan-tage to holding the Chapter of Election after the Chapter of Affairs is to ensure that the elected leadership is committed to carrying out the man-date of the general chapter and to the mission of the institute visible in its charism. The business of meta-expectations derailing expectations occurs daily in society--in the system of justice, in education, in government and other natural systems. It ought to occur less frequently in religious institutes if they are open to the Spirit unfolding in them. One other example of the distinction between meta-expectations and Review for Religious, January-February 1989 expectations might clarify what I am saying. In a religious institute mem-bers may experience some dissatisfaction with the missioning process, and all kinds of proposals expressing both meta-expectations and expec-tations emerge. The dissatisfaction is with the process and not with the people doing the job. Instead of focusing on the dissatisfaction, the dele-gates begin, as a result of some meta-expectations, to design new roles and functions for the persons charged with missioning when they ought to have seriously looked at the process and analyzed the cause of dis-content. The process is in need of change; failure to redesign it changes nothing, and future chapters will find themselves still dealing with dis-content about the process. Sometimes an issue is finally resolved but only after it has resurfaced in several chapters. One cannot be sure, however, that the ultimate resolution flows from reasonable expectations or not. What is certain is that if it is the result of meta-expectation something of the institute's charism is diminished. A model for expectations showing the process involved in discern-ment of the kinds of things which happen as a result of responses pro-vided in proposals follows: -Perception: dissatisfaction with missioning process -Response: a change is needed in the process In this model the response is a ~reasonable expectation for members to have. The model also lends itself to scrutiny by the delegates who will then test various recommendations made in the context of chapter to see how they relate to the charism and spirituality of the institute. In doing this, no special interest or meta~expectation will drive the final outcome. After chapter, the information and proposals not used in chapter can be given additional study and perhaps even be used for input into some ad hoc trial period of experimentation. A second model based on meta-expectations follows: -Perception: dissatiSfaction with missioning process -Response: establishment of new roles for persons charged with process The response in this case is the fulfillment of a meta-expectation since it begins to deal with m'any different aspects of the dissatisfaction. The issue is clearly defined as dissatisfaction with the process; then the charism and spirituality of the institute should dictate the solution. The response in this model is expressive of one of the many meta-expecta-tions expressed, all of which are not substantively, relative to the insti-tute's charism and spirituality. This model is provided as example; it is not a definitive model. Religious institutes can substitute ever so many examples which violate their own particular charism. This is not to say Meta-Expectations and the Chapter / 37 that it is wrong to have the vision to redesign the institute or to follow "paths unknown." What this paper is addressing is the growing aware-ness among religious that somewhere things are going amiss and worse, that it is becoming increasingly more difficult for the institute to recog-nize its own charism and spirituality at work in the Church for which it is called to reveal Christ and through him the Father. In this brief essay I have tried to make a distinction between the jus-tifiable and reasonable expectations one might have for a general chap-ter and the meta-expectations one might have, which are not reasonable for a general chapter to consider in its deliberations, no matter how at-tractive or relevant those meta-expectations appear. NOTES ~ Bernard J.F. Lonergan, S.J., Insight: A Study of Human Understanding. London. 1958. passim. 2 Walter M. Abbot, S.J. (ed.), The Documents of Vatican !!, p. 225, n. 26. All ref-erences to the Documents are taken from here. 3 Documents, p. 77, n. 46. 4 For an insightful account of the distinction between historicism and historicalism, read Bernard J.F. Lonergan, S.J., Method In Theology: London, 1971. pp. 323- 326, 239, 318. See also the works of Wilhelm Dilthey and Ernest Troeltsch; Maurice Mandelbaum. Enc. Phil., 4:22-25. Thomas Merton and His Own Cistercian Tradition M. Basil Pennington, O.C.S.O. Father Basil's most recent article in this journal was "Simple Contemplative Prayer" (March/April 1987). He now resides at Assumption Abbey; Rt. 5, Box 193; Ava, Missouri 65608. I presume most of the readers of this essay are fairly familiar with the life and development of Thomas Merton. In the last pages of the Secular Jour-nal, Merton sums up his spiritual journey towards the Church and mon-astery: From Gilson's Spirit of Medieval Philosophy I learned a healthy respect for Catholicism. Then Ends andMeans taught me to respect mysticism. Maritain's Art and Scholasticism was another important influence, and Blake's poetry. Perhaps also Evelyn Underhill's Mysticism, though I read precious little of it. I was fascinated by the Jesuit sermons in Joyce's A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man! What horrified him, began to appeal to me. It seemed to me quite sane. Finally G. F. Lahey's Life of Gerard Manley Hopkins; I was reading about Hopkins's conver-sion when 1 dropped the book and ran out of the house to look for Fa-ther Ford. ~ It is not surprising that this author would be influenced primarily by authors and their books. In a preface to A Thomas Merton Reader, published in 1962, six years before his tragic death, Merton summed up his monastic years: I would say that my life at Gethsemani has fallen roughly into four pe-riods. First, the novitiate. I was a novice in 1942-1944. Those were hard years, before the days when radiators were much in favor during the win-ter, when the hours of communal prayer were much longer, when the 38 Merton and Cistercian Tradition fasts were much stricter. It was a period of training, and a happy, aus-tere one; during which 1 wrote little. The best Gethsemani poems be-long to this period. At the end of the novitiate my health broke down and I was ap-pointed to write and do translations of French books and articles. I was also studying philosophy and theology in preparation for ordination to the priesthood. This second period extends from 1944, my first vows, to ordination in 1949. At first the writing was very bad . In 1946 I wrote Seven Storey Mountain, in 1947 Seeds of Contemplation, and in 1948 The Waters of Siloe. After ordination, in 1949, there was an-other brief period of poor health and nervous exhaustion. I was almost incapable of writing for at least a year and a half after I became a priest. Then after a rest period in the hospital, I wrote The Ascent to Truth and Bread in the Wilderness (both about 1951) and finished The Sign of Jonas, 1952. In 1951 1 was appointed the Master of Scholastics, that is, of the young monks studying for ordination in the monastery. This en-tailed a fair amount of work preparing conferences and classes. Books like The Living Bread and particularly No Man is an Island and The Si-lent Life belong to the end of this period. Finally, a fourth stage. In 1955 I was made Master of the Choir Nov-ices. This is an office involving considerable work and responsibility. No writing of any account was done in ! 956, but after that it was possi-ble to produce short books or collections of essays, and some poetry. Disputed Questions, The Wisdom of the Desert, The Behavior of Titans, and New Seeds of Contemplation belong to this last period. So too do more recent essays on nuclear war, on Chinese thought, on liturgy, and on solitude.2 It is notable that in all of this literary reminiscing, Merton does not mention specifically any Cistercian Father or any of the work he did con-cerning them. Actually he does not seem to have had any contact with the Cistercian tradition prior to entering the monastery. But, in fact, once he entered the Cistercian life he so immersed himself in it that it became the very matrix of his life and .thinking. In his early days as he was as-similating Cistercian spirituality, Merton wrote about the Cistercian Fa-thers explicitly. When he served the community as Master of Scholastics and as Novice Master, he spoke about them constantly; his notes and his taped conferences are full of them. Later they cropped up spontaneously in his writings, the paradigm against which he evaluated what he was then absorbing. One of his favorites would find his place in the final talk Merton gave a few hours before his sudden death.3 When Merton first entered the monastery, there was, as he said in the epilogue of The Spirit of, Simplicity,4 little of the Cistercian Fathers 40 / Review for Religious, January-February 1989 available in English.5 But this did not hinder him. He not only found no problem in reading the Latin texts in Migne, he strongly believed that translations always lacked something of the origin~il.6 How carefully he studied these texts is witnessed not only by his frequent use of quota-tions from them in his early writings and the talks he gave his scholas-tics and novices, but also by the .und.erlinings and annotations found in the voit]mes of the Fathers which he used. One of Thomas Merton's-- or Frater Louis, as he was then called-- earliest assignments was to translate a.report from the CisterCian Gen-eral Chapter, entitled The Spirit of Simplicity,7 and provide a suitable in-troduction for it. He'not only did that but gathered a complementary selection of texts from St. Bernard on interior simplicity in its fullness. He translated these and commented on them, turning the report into a full book. This part of the The Spirit of Simplicity has recently been published in a volume in the Cistercian Studies Series with two other early Bernar-dine essays of Merton.8 He wrote a five-part study of Bernard and St. John of the Cross for Collectanea which expresses his concern of that period when he was writing The Ascent to Truth .9 We can detect in these essays a certain struggle Merton was experiencing in trying to respond both to the rich, fully human patristic heritage Bernard offered him and the exciting, stimulating, scholastic approach which John of the Cross was able to integrate with a high mystical theology. It wbuld be Ber-nard's approach that would win him over. In the prologue to The Sign of Jonas he would write: "I found in writing The Ascent to Truth that technical language, though it is univer-sal and certain and accepted by theologians, .does not reach the average man and does not convey what is more personal and most vital in relig-ious experience. Since my focus is not upon dogmas as such, but only on their repercussions in the life of a soul in which they begin to find concrete realization, I may be pardoned for using my own words to talk about my own soul." ~0 The third piece in the Cistercian Studies volume witnesses to another early concern of Merton--the superiority of thecontemplative life. In an extensive essay which was first published serially in ~Collectanea and later appeared as a volume in French,~ Merton is at pains to establish that the apostolic life, though it may have a fullness beyond the purely contemplative life, as Bernard ,acknow!edges,.has true:value only inso-far as it flows out of contemplation. And thus the contemplative life is in itself more important or of greater dignity. Merton's~argumentation Merton and Cistercian Tradition here is not all that easy to follow, nor that cogent. Later he himself would comment negatively about such preoccupation.~2 The eighth centenary of Bernard's death led to a spate of publishing on the saint. Merton translated the papal encyclical produced for the oc-casion and wrote an introduction to it. ~3 He was invited to introduce other works. His preface to Bernard de Clairvaux, a collection of studies pub-lished by the Historical Commission of his order and edited by its chair-man, Father Jean-de-la-Croix Bouton, shows the increasing influence of Bernard on Merton.~4 The piece is filled with scriptural texts and allu-sions. We might.say it is a very Bernardine piece about Bernard. In line with his earlier concentration, Merton sees that Bernard added to the Cis-tercian reform "an emphatic call to contemplative union with God." ~5 At the same time Merton begins to reveal a more integral understanding of Bernard as a "man of his times . . . a many-sided saint." 16 This is further in evidence in the next piece. His .introduction to Bruno Scott James's translation of the letters of St. Bernard, he considered important. ~7 At his behest it was included in A Thomas Merton Reader in the section ".Mentors and Doctrines."~8 It revealed Thomas Merton's growth in his appreciation for Bernard in line with his own personal growth. Merton had had his experience on the cor-ner of Maple and Fourth. He now beheld all with a greater integrity. He had a new .appreciation for Bernard the man. H~e appreciated the letters because they so well brought out the human dimension of the great saint: They [the letters] show the man as he is, and because he is so much a man, readers who forget that saints must be men may sometimes be in-clined to question his saintliness . Bernard is sent to instruct us how human a saint must be to forge'out the will of God in the heat of the affairs of men . He had the humility to be himself in the thick of a silly argument. He had the good grace to admit that a saint might pos-sibly have to bicker with another saint . The angry Bernard, the pas-sionate Bernard . . . the merciful Bernard, the gentle long-suffering monk who could be as tender as a mother . 19 As Merton noted in his brief literary biography quoted above, liturgy came more to the fore in a later period of his life. In Seasons of Cele-bration he published one of his most beautiful pieces on St. Bernard: "The Sacrament of Advent in the Spirituality of St. Bernard.' ,20 It is undoubtedly St. Bernard, the "Theologian of the Cistercian Life" (as Merton's friend Jean Leclercq would name him), who received the most attention from Merton. Besides Bernard's prominence as the mas-ter of the Cistercian school, there would be the influence of Gilson. As 42 / Review for Religious, January-February 1989 we have seen above, Gilson was one of the first to open the way for Mer-ton towards Catholicism. Merton's respect for him never diminished, and his masterful work The Mystical Theology of Saint BerndrdZ~ was most carefully studied and wholly accepted by Merton.22 But Merton read all the significant Cistercian Fathers, and spoke and wrote on them as occa-sion offered. The "Bernard of the North," Bernard's disciple, the abbot of Rievaulx, Aelred, received special attenti.on. Merton has an extensive un-published piece on him, which looks like it was on the way to becoming a book. We can hope it will. soon appear in Cistercian Studies. It is an important piece, and I shall return to it later in this esgay. As one of his first projects for Cistercian Publications, Merton wrote an introduction for Father Amfd6e Hallier's Monastic Theology of Aelred of Rievaulx. Here again we see the later Merton rejecting earlier attitudes: Let us be quite clear the monastic theology of Aelred is not a partisan "theology of monasticism." It is not an apologia for .the life of the monk, and not a kind of gnostic system organized to prove some sup-posed superiority of "the contemplative life," urging a flight to ineffa-ble convulsions,z3 He saw that "the Christian life is, for Aelred, simply the full flow-ering of freedom and consent in the perfection of friendship. Friendship with other human beings is an epiphany of friendship with God." Mer-ton notes that "Not so long ago, some of Aelred's books were kept un-der lock and key in Trappist libraries. ,,24 Merton never wrote a particular essay on Bernard's closest friend, William of Saint Thierry, but he considered him "a profound and origi-nal theologian and a contemplative in his own right."25 He dedicated one of his first books to him, "one of the saints and mystical theologians of the Golden Age," and quoted him extensively in the foreword.26 In regard to the fourth of the evangelists of Citeaux, Guerric of Igny, we have the opportunity to get a sampling of Merton's more ordinary treat-ment of the Cistercian Fathers in his talks to the juniors at Gethsemani. Sister Bernard Martin of Chimay transcribed two of Merton's talks which had been taped and published the transcription in Cistercian Studies in 1972.27 For Merton, "Guerric was really deep and very spiritual and very mystical."28 And as Merton.opens him up for his novices, he is also very much alive, very practical and down to earth. It is in these intimate talks that we best see how the Cistercian Fathers reverberated in the mind and heart of this twentieth-century Cistercian Father. Merton and Cistercian Tradition There is a more formal treatment of Guerric of Igny and his liturgi-cal sermons in Merton's introduction to the Gethsemani Christmas book for 1959: Sister Rose of Lima's translation of Guerric's Christmas ser-mons. 29 Other Cistercian Fathers turn up in Merton's published writings. There are poems about St, Alberic3° and St. Malachy.3! When Cister-cian Studies began publishing Sister Penelope's translation of the ser-mons of Isaac of Stella, Merton provided an introduction for this "not the least interesting of the Cistercian writers."32 He found him a "more independent thinker and less subject to the dominant influence of Saint Bernard''33, whose writings reminded him "at times of Eckhart in their tone."34 Merton's spirit resonated with this abbot who withdrew from a large and important Cistercian abbey to an erernus, a poor and lonely island foundation. Merton provided an introduction for another Cistercian Father, one of his favorites, Adam of Perseigne.35 Earlier he had written about Adam's theory of monastic formation in an essay that was published in Charles Dumont's French translation.36 Adam was for Merton something of a mentor in his duties as novice master, and his admiration for the ab-bot of Perseigne remained till the end. In his final talk at Bangkok he brings him forth to illustrate a basic monastic theory.37 When the earlier essay was further developed, Merton gave it a new title, one that wit-nessed to his own development: The Feast of Freedom. Adam, Aelred, all the great Cistercian Fathers led Merton in the same direction. But Merton did not have an unbounded admiration for all the twelfth-century Cistercian writers, Here is an example, Gamier of Langres: Gamier was not deep and not spiritual and not mystical. He was a literal-minded person with a lot of learning. As a matter of fact he is quite in-teresting, On the liturgy, he has a lot of little statements about what they did at the time and what they thought they were doing and why they did it. But these are just little statements of historical fact. Today Gamier would be a scientific-minded critic. "But a scientific-minded critic in the Middle Ages is just about zero, because he has nothing to work on . He's finished, he's dated, he's way back. He is no more modern than 'a twelfth-century concept of the universe.38 He goes so far as to say: "His work., is not in English at all, and if it never gets translated into English that won't be too soon.' ,39 This does, though, give, us another indication as to the extent to which Merton worked his way through the pages of Migne4° and ex-plored all the published writings of the early Cistercian Fathers. 44 / Review for Religious, January-February 1989 Above I have mentioned the monograph that Merton was working on entitled "Saint Aelred of Rievaulx." This is a significant piece of work. In placing Aelred in context Merton gives a fine synopsis of Cis-tercian history and especially literary history from the foundation in 1098 up till the death of Becket (+ 1170). But I think one of the valuable ele-ments of this work is the insight that Merton has as a later Cistercian writer into these early Cisterclan writers. Indeed, as I read the pertinent section I ask.myself if this is not a candid insight into Merton himself as a Cistercian writer: ¯ . . the rich and elegant vitality of Cistercian prose--most of which is sheer poetry--betrays an overflow 0( literary productivity which did not even need to strive for its effects: it achieved them, as it were, sponta-neously. It seemed to be second nature to St. Bernard, William of St. Thierry, Adam of Perseigne, Guerric of lgny, to write with consummate beauty prose full of sound and color and charm, There were two natural explanations for this. The first is that the prolific Cistercian writers of the Golden Age were men who had already been thoroughly steeped in the secular literary .movements of the time before they entered the clois-ter. All of them had rich experience of the current of humanism that flow-ered through the twelfth-century renaissance . There is a second explanation for the richness and exuberance of theo-logical prose in twelfth-century monasteries of Citeaux. If contact with classical humanism had stimulated a certain intellectual vitality in these clerics, it hlso generated a conflict in their souls. The refined natural ex-citements produced by philosophical speculation, by art, poetry, music, by the companionship of restless sensitive and intellectual friends merely unsettled their souls. Far from finding peace and satisfaction in all these things, they found war. The only answer to the problem was to make a clean break with everything that stimulated this spiritual uneasiness, to withdraw from the centers in which it was fomented, and get away somewhere, discover some point of vantage from which they could see the whole difficulty in its proper perspective. This vantage point, of course, was not only the cloister, since Ovid and Tully had already be-come .firmly established' there, but the desert--the terra invia et inaquosa in which the Cistercian labored and suffered and prayed . The tension generated by the conflict between secular humanism and the Christian humanism, which seeks the fulfillment of human nature through ascetic renunciation and mystical union with God, was one 6f the proximate causes of the powerful mystical writing of the Cistercians. , However, once these two natural factors have been considered, we must recognize other and far more decisive influences, belonging to a higher order . It is the relish and savor that only experience can Merton and Cistercian Tradition give, that communicates to the writings of the twelfth-century Cister-cians all the vitality and vividness and impassioned sincerity which are peculiarly their own . The White Monks speak with accents of a more personal and more lyrical conviction that everywhere betrays the influence of an intimate and mystical experience . It is the personal, experiential character of Cistercian mysticism that gives the prose of the White Monks its vivid freshness . Since the theology of the Cistercians was so intimately persona! and experiential, their exposition of it was bound to take a psychological di-rection. All that they wrote was directed by their keen awareness of the presence and action of God in their souls. This was their all-absorbing interest.4~ Many scholars have noted that Merton's writings show a rather su-perficial knowledge of the Eastern religions. But when I traveled in the East and spoke with the spiritual masters there who had come into con-tact with Merton on his last journey, they said they had never met any-one from the West who had so fully understood their ways. I think the same might be said of Merton and the Cistercian Fathers. Certainly many scholars know more about the Fathers and the early history of the Cis-tercian order. But few, if any, so fully understand their spirit as does this twentieth-century Cistercian Father. Moreover, no one has been able to express so fully and clearly, and in a way that communicates to our times, what these Fathers have to say to our times and to the renewal of the Cistercian order. Cistercians cannot but profit from choosing Tho-mas Merton, their F.ather Louis, for their lectio, from spending time with him and letting him lead them into a deeper, fuller understanding and appreciation of their Cistercian Fathers. NOTES ~ Thomas Merton, The Secular Journal ofThomas Merton (New York: Farrar, Straus & Cudahy, 1959), pp. 268f. 2 A Thomas Merton Reader, ed. by Thomas McDonnell (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1962), pp. viiif. 3 Adam of Perseigne. See The Asian Journal of Thomas Merton (New York: New Directions, 1973), p. 333. 4 The Spirit of Simplicity: Characteristic of the Cistercian Order (Trappist, Ken-tucky: Abbey of Gethsemani, 1948). 5 Ibid., p. 137. Merton played an important role in remedying this situation in the part he played in the founding of Cistercian Publications, which has now published more than forty volumes of the Cistercian Fathers in English. 6 Reader, p. 317. 46/Review for Religious, January-February 1989 7 See note 4 above. 8 Thomas Merton on Saint Bernard, Cistercian Studies Series (hereafter CS), vol. 9 (Kalamazoo, Michigan: Cistercian Publications, 1980), pp. 103-157. 9 New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1951. ~0 Thomas Merton, The Sign of Jonas (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1953), pp. 8f. ~ Marthe, Marie, et Lazare (Bruges: Desclee de Brouwer, 1956). ~2 In the preface to A Thomas Merton Reader he would write: ". it would be a still greater misapprehension to say I am simply trying to prove that the contempla-tive life is 'better than the active life,' . Not only am I not trying to prove these propositions, but stated in this bald and unqualified manner, I do not even hold them. It is true that fifteen years ago I was able to get excited about such theses, but I have come to see that controversy about speculative matters of this sort is not only a waste of time but is seriously misleading. We are all too prone to believe in our own pro-grams and to follow the echo of our own slogans into a realm of illusion and unreal-ity"( p, viii). 13 The Last of the Fathers (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1954). ~4 Bernard of Clairvaux (Paris: Editions Alsatia, 1953). It was later published in The Tablet and Cross and Crown and in Disputed Questions (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1960),.pp. 260-276, under the title "St. Bernard, Monk and Apostle." ~5 Disputed Questions, p. 263. 16 Ibid., p. 262. ~7 Bruno Scott James, St. Bernard of Clairvaux Seen Through his Selected Letters (Chicago: Henry Regnery Company, 1953), pp. v-viii. ~8 Reader, pp. 315-319. 19 Reader, pp. 316f. zo Seasons of Celebration (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1965), pp. 61-87. z~ New York: Sheed and Ward, 1955. 22 There is a copy of Gilson's work in the Merton Center at Columbi~ University with Merton's underlining and marginalia which indicate the care with which he stud-ied this book. 23 Am~d~e Hallier, The Monastic Theology ofAelred ofRievaulx, tr. by Colum-ban Heaney, CS 2 (Spencer, Massachusetts: Cistercian Publications, 1969), p. viii. 2,~ Ibid., pp. xif. 25 "Saint Aelred of Rievaulx," MSS, p. 20. ??26ft2The Spirit of Simplicity, pp. vf. 27 Thomas Merton, "Guerric of lgny's Easter Sermons" in Cistercian Studies, vol. 7 (1972), pp. 85-95. 28 Ibid., p. 85. 29 The Christmas Sermons of Blessed Guerric of lgny, tr. by Sr. Rose of Lima (Trap-pist, Kentucky: Abbey of Our Lady of Gethsemani, 1959), pp. 1-25. 30 "Saint Alberic" in Selected Poems of Thomas Merton (New York~ New Direc-tions, 1959), pp. 44f. 3~ Ibid., pp. 75ff. This poem is reproduced in the Reader, pp. 177f. 32 Louis Merton, "Isaac of Stella: An Introduction to Selections from his Sermons," in Cistercian Studies, vol. 2 (1967), p. 243. 33 Ibid. 3,~ Ibid., p. 244. 35 "The Feast of Freedom: Monastic Formation according to Adam of Perseigne," Merton and Cistercian Tradition in The Letters of Adam ofPerseigne, vol. 1, tr. by Grace Perigo, Cistercian Fathers Series, no. 21 (Kalamazoo, Michigan: Cistercian Publications, 1976), pp. 3-48. 36 "La formation monastique selon Adam de Perseigne," in Collectanea Ordinis Cisterciensium Reformatorum, vol. 19 (1957), pp. 1-17. 37 The Asian Journal of Thomas Merton (New York: New Directions, 1973), p. 333. 38 "Guerric . . . Easter Sermons," pp. 85f. 39 Ibid. 40 He read Garnier in Patrologia Latina, vol. 205. 4~ MSS. pp. 10-17. Liturgy of the Hours: A Canticle for Canticles Three canticles encompass all our praise: Three sacred songs of trusting love and hope. At dawn there breaks upon us like the sun, Old Zechariah's paean to God's work. At dusk, like Vesper star, young Mary sings Magnificat for mercy to us all. Then at day's end in darkness gently fall Old Simeon's thankful words, as clear and bright As Compline candles glowing in the dark To mark the end of day, perhaps of life: To let God's servants go in peace to him. Three son~s that with their jeweled antiphons, Like winking diamonds, daily bring delight As we lift hearts at dawn, at dusk, at night. Maryanna Childs, O.P. Ohio Dominican College 1818 Sunbury Road Columbus, Ohio 43219 The Challenge of Church Teachings: How Do I Respond? Lucy Blyskal, C.S.J. Sister Lucy Blyskal, C.S.J., has a doctorate in canon law and is a diocesan judge on the Tribunal of the diocese of Rockville Centre, New York. Her article is the fruit of her canon law dissertation on the Church's teaching authority. Her address is Tri-bunal of the Diocese of Rockville Centre; 50 North Park Avenue; Rockville Centre, New York 11570. In view of the increasing number of official Church pronouncements on many debated issues, how can today's religious keep informed and re-flect intelligently on such statements? How does one discern and listen to the Spirit of the teaching Church and the Spirit within oneself? The purpose of this article, comprised of two parts, is to help us to respond appropriately to papal and episcopal documents. The first sec-tion discusses three main aspects of the Church's teaching authority: (I) the truths of the faith as given to the ff.hgle.Church; (2) the concept of infallible Church teaching; (3) the noninfallible teaching and the response owed to it by the faithful. The second part offers the reader a practical method for analyzing doctrinal statements, and then applies this method to evaluate three somewhat controversial doctlments issued recently. Hopefully, this information will lead to a deepened knowledge and love of the faith which ought to transform our hearts and impel us to serve justice and peace in the world. Part I: Church Teaching Authority Revelation as Given to the Whole Church To set the correct context for'a discussion of teaching authority, it is important to keep in mind that the Church is fundamentally a commu- 48 Challenge of Church Teachings / 49 nity of faith and witness which worships God in Jesus Christ and bears witness to the Church's divinely given message throughout the world. Because Christ handed over the deposit of revelation to the whole Church, it is in the possession of the whole body of Spirit-empowered people, not just the hierarchy. While Scripture calls Peter the "rock" on which the Church was to be built, it never refers to him or the twelve apostles as "the Church." Thus, to speak of "the Church" as having done something when in fact an office or official is the source is theo-logic. ally incorrect; one should name the office involved, for example, "the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith stated . "~ In its doctrine on infallibility, Vatican I carefully and explicitlyaf-firmed that the deposit of revelation is with the whole Church. The text of Vatican I names the Church as the primary subject of infallibility in stating that: "the Roman Pontiff. enjoys the infallibility with which the divine Redeemer wanted his'Church to be endowed in defining doc-trine concerning faith or morals."2 Vatican II in The Constitution on the Church (article 12) clearly reitera.ted that, thanks to a supernatural sense of faith which characterizes the People of God, "the body of faithful as a whole, anointed as they are by the Holy One (see Jn 2:20, 27) can-not err in matters of belief." Since all believers possess, can perceive, and have insights into the Christian revelation, what is the specific task and charism of the hierar-chy? By Christ's will, the disciples were commissioned: (I) to be his "witnesses. to the end of the earth" (Ac !:8); (2) to "go and teach all nations" (Mt 28:19) his full revelation, under the guidance of his Spirit. (1) The chief vocation of the disciples and their successors is "to witness" to the integrity and truth of the evangelical doctrine. This call to witness does not necessarily include the capacity to have and to ar-ticulate the deepest insights into the meaning of the mysteries of our faith,3 which is a special gift. It is noteworthy that this gift has produced some of the most significant developments in the understanding of the faith not in members of the hierarchy but in such persons as Thomas Aqui-nas, honored as the common teacher of the Church, and Teresa of Av-ila, named doctor of the spiritual life. (2) Because of Christ's command to his disciples to "teach all na-tions," the Christian community from its earliest days has also recog-nized the importance of an authoritative teaching body to maintain inner unity as the gospel was being spread. By Christ's will, this teaching authority, termed the "magisterium," belongs to the hierarchy who are 50 / Review for Religious, January-February 1989 sacramentally empowered and assisted by the Spirit to speak in the name of.Jesus Christ. Therefore, Catholics are to trust what pope and bishops teach, not because of their personal learning or stated reasons for their teaching, but precisely because of the spiritual authority of the office they occupy.4 Infallible Teaching Authority Vatican Council I first defined the infallible teaching authority of the Church as an article of faith in promulgating the dogmatic constitution Pastor Aeternus in 1870.5 While it reaffirmed this dogma of Vatican I, Vatican Council II integrated it into the doctrine on the collegiality of the bishops united with the pope and the doctrine of the Church as the People of God (Constitution on the Church, articles 12, 18, 25). Article 25 of this constitution6 states that when the pope or the episcopal col-lege (pope and bishops together) solemnly,proclaim matters of faith and morals, they are protected by the Spirit of Christ from misleading the peo-ple by teaching erroneous doctrine; hence their teaching is infallible. Several conditions need to be fulfilled for a teaching to be consid-ered infallible. First, the doctrine must deal with a matter of faith or mor-als. Second, it must be proclaimed by a duly authorized Church teacher as binding on the universal Church. Finally, it must be proclaimed "to be definitively held" by all Catholics as a dogma of faith. This infalli-ble teaching authority has been exercised only rarely since its cautious and circumscribed definition by Vatican Council I. More recently, the Constitution of the Church and the 1983 Code of Canon Law7 describe three ways in which this infallible magisterium can be exercised. (I) The pope may issue a solemn or ex cathedra pronouncement. Ac-cording to Vatican Council I, popes possess and can articulate the infal-libility with which the Divine Redeemer endowed his Church for defini-tive decisions in matters of faith and morals. For example, Pope Pius XII proclaimed the dogma of the Assumption by the bull Mun~ficentissimus issued November i, 1950. (2) The episcopal college may act solemnly in ecumenical councils. In ecumenical councils, the episcopal college, assembled in one place, acquires a special clarity and efficacy. Here the corporate episcopate can act in a solemn manner to define an article of faith; for example, Vati-can Council I promulgated the doctrine of infallibility in Pastor Aeter-nus in 1870. (3) The episcopal college may exercise its "ordinary and universal magisterium." In their ordinary and universal magisterium, the same bish- Challenge of Church Teachings / 51 ops, without coming together in one assembly, and with each remaining at his post, can definitively set forth some doctrine for the absolute ac-ceptance oLthe entire Church. In practice it is not always easy to ascer-tain whether or not the magisterium in a given case is exercising infalli-bility through this "ordinary" manner. It has been suggested that a pos-sible example of this level of Church doctrine is the common and con-stant teaching of pope and bishops throughout the world on the moral evil of abortion. How is an infallible doctrine to be received by the faithful? Vatican II's Constitution on the Church and the 1983 Code hold that infallible teaching must be accepted with obsequium fidei, translated as the 'as-sent of faith." This assent of faith is to be absolute and unconditional because it involves divine authority which utteriy excludes the possibil-ity of error. Consequently, the obstinate denial of truths proclaimed as infallible would constitute heresy. However, various Church documents warn the faithful to receive a teaching as infallible only when it has been definitively proclaimed as such. Vatican II, for example, declared that its statements on faith or morals should be seen as binding on the Church only when the council expressly declared them as such.8 Like'vise, the new Code cautions that no doctrine is understood to~ be infallibly defined "unless this is manifestly demonstrated. ,,9 From this review of the meaning of infallible teaching, it is obvious that the great majority of doctrinal statements issued on a day-to-day ba-sis do not fit into this category. Rather, most documents seem to belong to the nondefinitive level of authority--which makes the accurate under-standing of this noninfallible teaching crucially important today. Noninfallible Church Teaching The noninfallible magisterium is the term used to refer to the follow-ing exercises of the Church's teaching office: (l) the pronouncements of the pope when he is not teaching ex cathedra; (2) the declarations of an office of the Roman See with the special approval of the doctrine by the pope as his own; (3) the declarations of a curial office with routine but not special papal approval; (4) the promulgation of a doctrine by the pope toget, l~er with the college of bishops in council; (5) the teachings of an individual bishop; (6) the pronouncements of a grouping of bishops in an episcopal conference or a particular council. In order to respond appropriately to the numerous doctrinal state-ments issued by these official teachers, one needs to understand: (I) the nature of noninfallible teaching; (2) gradations among nondefinitive teach-ings; (3) inherent difficulties. Review for Religious, January-February 1989 ( I ) The Nature of Noninfallible Teaching. Three basic principles un-derlie this exploration of the noninfallible magisterium. (a) The concepts of noninfallible Church teaching and the response owed to it are evolving concerns whose complete meanings are not yet in the Church's consciousness. ~0 Recall that the definition of infallible teaching authority (1870) took place only within the last one hundred twenty years of the Church's two thousand year existence, (b) The issues of nondefinitive Church teaching and the response owed to it are being examined and applied by a Church that is itself an evolving reality as a community and an institution. ~ (c) With the spread and evolution of the Church, there has been a concomitant growth and development of doctrine, for example, "a growth in the understanding of the realities and the words which have been handed down" (Constitution on Divine Revelation, article 8). Vati-can II reiterated in its Decree on Ecumenism that: "If there are deficien-cies in the formulation of doctrine . these should be appropriately rectified at the proper moment" (article 6). More recently, the Congre-gation for the Doctrine of the Faith for the first time officially acknowl-edged that even the Church's expression of a truth of revelation at a par-ticular age may need to b~ reformulated in a subsequent era. ~2 These of-ficial statements on the growth possible in dogmatic teaching can be ap-plied afortiori to the noninfailible level of teaching. ,Basically, it is difficult to categorize the precise nature of nondefini-tire teaching. According to Orsy, noninfallible teaching is composed of two types of doctrine in an organic unity: some changeable h~uman thoughts (often of a particular school), and incorrupt expressions of the deposit of revelation. For this reason, simplistic statements such as "non-infallible statements by ecclesiastical authorities are binding," or, "dis-sent from noninfallibly stated doctrine should be always permissible" do not recognize .the complex content of the body of noninfallible beliefs. Orsy also makes the important observation that a particular document may, and. usually does, contain a mixture of infallible and noninfallible teachings without any indication of the different levels involved. ~3 In 1967, the German bishops referred to another significant aspect of noninfallible teaching authority when they pointed out that this level of magisterium "can, and on occasion actually does fall into error." 14 Francis Sullivan, a theologian, comments that it seems impossible to fault the reasoning of the German bishops: if the nondefinitive teaching of the magisterium is not infallible, it can be erroneous and can stand in need of correction. ~5 Here the basic principle of the development of Challenge of Church Teachings doctrine comes into play. Indeed the Church has corrected or reversed its stance on a number of occasions. 16 For example, the Decree on Ecu-menism of Vatican II clearly departed from previous papal teaching re-garding the Church's negative stance on relationships with non-Catholic Christians. Another obvious example is the final lifting of the condemna-tions imposed in the celebrated "Galileo case." ~7 In their pastoral letter, the German bishops point out that the Church has always been aware of the possibility of error. They conclude, how-ever, that in order to maintain the true and ultimate substance of faith the Church officials must, even at the risk of error in points of detail, "give expression to doctrinal directives which have a certain degree of binding force." (2) Gradation Among Noninfallible Documents. The weight or gra-dation of importance of a noninfallible statement can be indicated either by the person or body issuing the teaching, or the type of literary genre of the document itself that is utilized to promulgate the teaching. (a) As noted earlier, noninfallible statements can be issued by the pope or the bishops. Since the formal authority o.f the pope and the epis-copal college exceeds that of the bishops acting individually or con-jointly, there are obviously gradations among the various teachings prom-ulgated. (b) The second criterion for ascertaining the weight of a particular ~ondefinitive pronouncement is its literary genre, or, "the nature of the document" that is utilized (Constitution on the Church, article 25). Ap-ostolic constitutions, for example, are considered the most solemn form of papal documents. Then come papal acts in the form of letters in two categories, encyclical epistles and encyclical letters, the latter form be-ing less solemn than the former. The ordinary magisterium of the pope is also found in doctrinal dec-larations of the curia, for example, of the Congregations for Doctrine and for Seminari

Issue 45.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1986. ; Volume 45 Number 4' July/August, 1986 REVIEW FOR REt.~G~OUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. REVIEW FOR RELiGiOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1986 by REVIEW FOR REI, IGIOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, M O. Single copies: $2,50. Subscription U.S.A. $11.00 a year; $20.00 for two years. Other countries: add $4.00 per year (postage). Airmail (Book Rate) $18.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editor July/August, 1986 Volume 45 Number 4 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELtGtOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindeli Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Richard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVtEW FOR RELtCtOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N.Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, M! 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. A Letter to Priests: The Example of St. John Vianney John Paul H As he has done each year of his pontificate, Pope John Paul addressed a letter to priests for Holy Thursday, which is, par excellence, the Feast of Priesthood. The text is taken from L'Osservatore Romano, 24 March, 1986, pp. 1-3. Here we are again, about to celebrate Holy .Thursday, the day on which Christ J.esus instituted the Eucharist and at the same time our ministerial priesthood. "Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end."~ As the Good Shepherd, he was about to give his life for his sheep,2 to save man, to reconcile him with his Father and bring him into a new life. And already at the Last Supper he offered to the apostles as food his own body given up for them and his blood shed for them. Each year this day is an important one for all Christians: Like the first disciples, they come to receive the body and blood of Christ in the evening liturgy that renews the Last Supper. They receive from the Savior his testament of fraternal love, which must inspire their whole lives, and they begin to watch with him, in order to be united with him in his passion. You yourselves gather them together and guide their prayer. But this day is especially important for us, dear brother priests. It is the ¯ feast of priests. It is the birthday of our priesthood, which is a sharing in the one priesthood of Christ the mediator. On this day the priests of the whole world are invited to concelebrate the Eucharist with their bishops and with them to renew the promises of their priestly commitment to the service of Christ and his Church. As you know, I feel particularly close to each one of you on this 481 482 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 occasion. And, the same as every year, as a sign of our sacramental union in the same priesthood and impelled by my affectionate esteem for you and by my duty to confirm all my brothers in their service of the Lord, I wish to send you this letter to help you to stir up the wonderful gift that was conferred on you through the laying on of hands) This ministerial priest-hood which is our lot is also our vocation and our grace. It marks our whole life with the seal of the most necessary and most demanding of services, the salvation of souls. We are led to it by a host of predecessors. The Matchless Example of the Cur~ of Ars One of those predecessors remains particularly present in the memory of the Church, and he will be especially commemorated this year, on the second centenary of his birth: St. John Mary I"ianney, the Curb of Ars. Together we wish to thank Christ, the prince of pastors, for this extraordinary model of priestly life and service which the saintly Cur~ of Ars offers to the whole Church, and above all to us priests. How many of us prepared ourselves for the priesthood or today .exer-cise the difficult task of caring for souls, having before our eyes the figure of St.John Mary Vianney! His example cannot be forgotten. More than ever we need his witness, his intercession, in order to face the situations of our times when, in spite of a certain number of hopeful signs, evangeliza-tion is being contradicted by a growing secularization, when spiritual disci-pline is being neglected, when many are losing sight of the kingdom of God, when often even in the pastoral ministry there is a too exclusive concern for the social aspect, for temporal aims. In the. last century the Cur~ of Ars had to face difficulties which were perhaps of a different kind but which were no less serious. By his life and work he represented for the society of his time a great evangelical challenge that bore astonishing fruits of conversion. Let us not doubt that he still presents to us today the great evangelical challenge. I therefore invite you now to meditate on our priesthood in the pres.- ence of this matchless pastor, who illustrates both the fullest realization of the priestly ministry and the holiness of the minister. As you know, John Mary Baptist Vianney died at Ars on August 4, 1859, after some forty years of exhausting dedication. He was seventy-three years of age. When he arrived, Ars was a small and obscure village in the Diocese of Lyons, now in the Diocese of Belley. At the end of his life, people came from all over France, and his reputation for holiness, after he had been called home to God, soon attracted the attention of the universal Church. St. Plus X beatified him in 1905, Pius X1 canonized him in 1925 and then in 1929 declared him patron saint of the parish priests of the A Letter to Priests / 483 whole world. On the centenary of his death, Pope John XXIII wrote the encyclical Nostri Sacerdotii Primitias, to present the Cur6 of Ars as a model of priestly life and asceticism, a model of piety and eucharistic worship, a model of pastoral zeal, and this in the context of the needs of our time. Here, I would simply like to draw your attention to certain essential points so as to help us to rediscover and live our priesthood better. The Extraordinary Life of the Cur~ of Ars Preparing for the Priesthood The Cur~ of Ars is truly a model of strong will for those preparing for the priesthood. Many of the trials which followed one after another could have discouraged him: the effects of the upheaval of the French Revolu-tion, the lack of opportunities for education in his rural environment, the reluctance of his father, the need for him to do his share of work in the fields, the hazards of military service. Above all, and in spite of his intuitive intelligence and lively sensitivity, there was his great difficulty in learning and memorizing, and so in following the theological courses in Latin, all of which resulted in his dismissal from the seminary in Lyons. However, after the genuineness of his vocation had finally been acknowledged, at twenty-nine years of age he was able to be ordained. Through his tenacity in working and praying, he overcame all obstacles and limitations, just as he did later in his priestly life, by his perseverance in laboriously preparing his sermons or spending the evenings reading the works of theologians and spiritual writers. From his youth he was filled with a great desire to "win souls for the good of God" by being a priest, and he was supported by the confidence placed in him by the .parish priest of the neighboring town of Ecully, who never doubted his vocation and took charge of a good part of his training. What an example of courage for those who today experience the grace of being called to the priesthood ! His Love for Christ and for Souls The Cur6 of Ars is a model of priestly zeal for all pastors. This secret of his generosity is to be found without doubt in his love of God, lived without limits, in constant response to the love made manifest in Christ crucified. This is where he bases his desire to do everything to save the souls ransomed by Christ at such a great price and to bring them back to the love of God. Let us recall one of those pithy sayings which he had the knack of uttering: "The priesthood is the love of the heart of Jesus.-4 In his sermons and catechesis he continually returned to that love: "O my God, 1 prefer to die loving you than to live a single instant without loving you . I love you, my divine Savior, because you were crucified for us. because you 484 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 have me crucified for you."5 For the sake of Christ, he seeks to conform himself exactly to the radical demands that Jesus in the Gospel puts before the disciples whom he sends out: prayer, poverty, humility, self-denial, voluntary penance. And, like Christ, he has a love for his flock that leads him to extreme pastoral commitment and self-sacrifice. Rarely has a pastor been so acutely aware of his responsibilities, so consumed by a desire to wrest his people from their sins or their lukewarmness. "O my God, grant me the conversion of my parish: I consent to suffer whatever you wish, for as long as I live." Dear brother priests, nourished by the Second Vatican Council which has felicitously placed the priest's consecration within the framework of his pastoral mission, let us join St. John Mary Vianney and seek the dyna-mism of our pastoral zeal in the heart of Jesus, in his love for souls. If we do not draw from the same source, our ministry risks bearing little fruit! The Fruits of His Ministry In the case of the Cure of Ars, the results were indeed wonderful, somewhat as with Jesus in the Gospel. Through John Mary Vianney, who consecrates his Whole strength and his whole heart to him, Jesus saves souls. The Savior entrusts them to him, in abundance. First his parish--which numbered only two hundred thirty people when he arrived--which will be profoundly changed. One recalls that in that village there was a great deal of indifference and very little religious practice among the men. The bishop had warned John Mary Vianney: "There is not much love of God in that parish, you will put some there." But quite soon, far beyond his own village, the cure becomes the pastor of a multitude coming from the entire region, from different parts of France and from other countries. It is said that 80,000 came in the year 1858! People sometimes waited for days to see him, to go to confession to him. What attracted them to him was not merely curiosity nor even a reputation justified by miracles and extraordinary cures, which the saint would wish to hide. It was much more the realization of meeting a saint, amazing for his penance, so close to God in prayer, remarkable for his peace and humility in the midst of popular acclaim and, above all, so intuitive in responding to the inner disposition of souls and in freeing them from their burdens, especially in the confessional. Yes, God chose as a model for pastors one who could have appeared poor, weak, defenseless and con-temptible in the eyes of men.6 He graced him with his best gifts as a guide and healer of souls. While recognizing the special nature of the grace given to the Cur6 of Ars, is there not here a sign of hope for pastors today who are suffering A Letter to Priests from a kind of spiritual desert? The 1Vlinistry of the Curb of Ars Different Apostolic Approaches to the Essential John Mary Vianney dedicated himself essentially to teaching the faith and to purifying consciences, and these two ministries were directed toward the Eucharist. Should we not see here, today also, the three objectives of the priest's pastoral service? While the purpose is undoubtedly to bring the People of God together around the eucharistic mystery by means of catechesis and penance, other apostolic approaches, varying according to circumstances, are also neces-sary. Sometimes it is a simple presence, over the years, with the silent witness of faith in the midst of non-Christian surroundings; or being near to people, to families and their concerns; there is a preliminary evangeliza-tion that seeks to awaken to the faith unbelievers and the lukewarm; there is the witness of charity and justice shared with Christian lay people, which makes the faith more credible and puts it into practice. These give rise to a whole series of undertakings and apostolic works which prepare or con-tinue Christian formation. The Cur~ of Ars himself taxed his ingenuity to devise initiatives adapted to his time and his parishioners. However, all these priestly activities were centered on the Eucharist, catechesis and the sacrament of reconciliation. The Sacrament of Reconciliation It is undoubtedly his untiring devotion to the sacrament of reconcilia-tion which revealed the principle charism of the Cur~ of Ars and is rightly the reason for his renown. It is good that such an example should encour-age us today to restore to the ministry of reconciliation all the attention which it deserves and which the Synod of Bishops of 1983 so justly emphasized.7 Without the step of conversion, penance and seeking pardon that the Church's ministers ought untiringly to encourage and welcome, the much desired renewal will remain superficial and illusory. The first care of the Cur~ of Ars was to teach the faithful to desire repentance. He stressed the beauty of God's forgiveness. Was not all his priestly life and all his strength dedicated to the conversion of sinners? And it was above all in the confessional that God's mercy manifested itself. So he did not wish to get rid of the penitents who came from all parts and to whom he often devoted ten hours a day, sometimes fifteen or more. For him this was undoubtedly the greatest of his mortifications, a form of martyrdom. In the first place it was a martyrdom in the physical sense from the heat, the cold or the suffocating atmosphere. Second, in the moral Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 sense, for he himself suffered from the sins confessed and even more the lack of repentance: "I weep because you do not weep." In the face of these indifferent people, whom he welcomed as best he could and tried to awaken in them the love of God, the Lord enabled him to reconcile great sinners who were repentant, and also to guide to perfection souls thirsting for it. It was here above all that God asked him to share in the redemption. For our own part, we have rediscovered, better than during the last century, the community aspect of penance, preparation for forgiveness and thanksgiving after forgiveness. But sacramental forgiveness will always require a personal encounter with the crucified Christ through the media-tion of his minister,s Unfortunately it is often the case that penitents do not fervently hasten to the confessional, as in the time of the Cur~ of Ars. Now, just when a great number seem to stay away from confession completely for various reasons, it is a sign of the urgent need to develop a whole pastoral strategy of the sacrament of reconciliation. This will be done by constantly reminding Christians of the need to have a-real relationship with God, to have a sense of sin when one is closed to God and to others, the need to be converted and through the Church to receive forgiveness as a free gift of God. They also need to be reminded of the conditions that enable the sacrament to be celebrated well, and in this regard to overcome prejudices, baseless fears and routine.9 Such a situation at the same time requires that we ourselves should remain very available for this ministry of forgiveness, ready to devote to it the necessary time and care, and I would even say giving it priority over other activities. The faithful will then realize the value that we attach to it, as did the Cur~ of Ars. Of course, as I wrote in the post-synodal exhortation on penance,~0 the ministry undoubtedly remains the most difficult, the most delicate, the most taxing and the most demanding of all---especially when priests are in short supply. This ministry also presupposes on the part of the confessor great human qualities, above all, an intense and sincere spiritual life; it is necessary that the priest himself should make regular use of this sacrament. Always be convinced of this, dear brother priests: this ministry of mercy is one of the most beautiful and most consoling. It enables you to enlighten consciences, to forgive them and to give them fresh vigor in the name of the Lord Jesus. It enables you to be for them a spiritual physician and counselor; it remains "the irreplaceable manifestation and the test of the priestly ministry." ~ The Eucharist: Offering the Mass, Communion, Adoration The two sacraments of reconciliation and the Eucharist remain closely linked. Without a continually renewed conversion and the reception of the A Letter to Priests / 487 sacramental grace of forgiveness, participation in the Eucharist would not reach its full redemptive efficacy.~2 Just as Christ began his ministry with the words "Repent and believe in the Gospel,"~3 so the Cur6 of Ars gener-ally began each of his days with the ministry of forgiveness. But he was happy to direct his reconciled penitents to the Eucharist. The Eucharist was at the very center of his spiritual life and pastoral work. He said: "All good works put together are not equivalent to the sacrifice of the Mass, because they are the works of men and the holy Mass is'the work of God."~4 It is in the Mass that the sacrifice of Calvary is made present for the redemption of the world. Clearly, the priest must unite the daily gift of himself to the offering of the Mass: "How well a priest does, therefore, to offer himself to God in sacrifice every morning!"~5 "Holy communion and the holy sacrifice of the Mass are the two most efficacious actions for obtaining the conversion of hearts."~6 Thus the Mass was for John Mary Vianney the great joy and comfort of his priestly life. He took great care, despite the crowds of penitents, to spend more than a quarter of an hour in silent preparation. He celebrated with recollection, clearly expressing his adoration at the consecration and communion. He accurately remarked: "The cause of priestly laxity is not paying attention to the Mass!''~7 The Cur6 of Ars was particularly mindful of the permanence of Christ's real presence in the Eucharist. It was generally before the tabernacle that he spent long hours in adoration, before daybreak or in the evening; it was toward the tabernacle that he often turned during his homilies, saying with emotion: "He is there!" It was also for this reason that he, so poor in his presbytery, did not hesitate to spend large sums on embellishing his church. The appreciable result was that his parishioners quickly took up the habit of coming to pray before the Blessed Sacrament, discovering, through the attitude of their pastor, the grandeur of the mystery of faith. With such a testimony before our eyes, we think about what the Second Vatican Council says to us today on the subject of priests: "They exercise this sacred function of Christ most of all in the eucharistic liturgy." ~8 And more recently, the extraordinary synod in December, 1985, recalled: "The liturgy must favor and make shine brightly the sense of the sacred. It must be imbued with reverence, adoration and glorification of God . The Eucharist is the source and summit of all the Christian life."19 Dear brother priests, the example of the Cur6 of Ars invites us to a serious examination of conscience: What place do we give to the Mass in our daily lives? Is it, as on the day of our ordination--it was our first act as priests!--the principle of our apostolic work and personal sanctification? What care do we take in preparing for it? And in celebrating it? In praying 41111 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 before the Blessed Sacrament? In encouraging our faithful people to do the same? In making our churches the house of God to which the divine presence attracts the people of our times, who too often have the impres-sion of a world empty of God? Preaching and Catechesis The Cur~ of Ars was also careful never to neglect in any way the ministry of the Word, which is absolutely necessary in predisposing people to faith and conversion. He even said: "Our Lord, who is truth itself, considers his Word no less important than his body."20 We know how long he spent, especially at the beginning, in laboriously composing his Sunday sermons. Later on he came to express himself more spontaneously, always with lively and clear conviction, with images and comparisons taken from daily life and easily grasped by his flock. His catechetical instructions to the children also formed an important part of his ministry, and the adults gladly joined the children so as to profit from this matchless testimony which flowed from his heart. He had the courage to denounce evil in all its forms; he did not keep silent, for it was a question of the eternal salvation of his faithful people: "If a pastor remains silent when he sees God insulted and souls going astray, woe to him! If he does not want to be damned, and if there is some disorder in his parish, he must trample upon human respect and the fear of being despised or hated." This responsibility was his anguish as parish priest. But as a rule, "he preferred to show the attractive side of virtue rather than the ugliness of vice," and if he spoke--sometimes in tears-- about sin and the danger for salvation, he insisted on the tenderness of God who has been offended, and the happiness of being loved by God, united by God, living in his presence and for him. Dear brother priests, you are deeply convinced of the importance of proclaiming the Gospel, which the Second Vatican Council placed in the first rank of the functions of a priest.2~ You seek, through catechesis, through preaching and in other forms which also include the media, to touch the hearts of our contemporaries, with their hopes and uncertainties, in order to awaken and foster faith. Like the Cur6 of Ars and in accor-dance with the exhortation of the council,22 take care to teach the Word of God itself which calls people to conversion and holiness. The Identity of the Priest The Specific Ministry of the I~iest St. John Mary Vianney gives an eloquent answer to certain question-ings of the priest's identity which have manifested themselves in the course A Letter to Priests / 4119 of the last twenty years; in fact it seems that today a more balanced position is being reached. The priest always and in an unchangeable way finds the source of his identity in Christ the priest. It is not the world which determines his status, as though it depended on changing needs or ideas about social roles. The priest is marked with the seal of the priesthood of Christ in order to share in his function as the one mediator and redeemer. So, because of this fundamental bond, there opens before the priest the immense field of the service of souls, for their salvation in Christ and in the Church. This service must be completely inspired b.y love of souls in imita-tion of Christ who gives his life for them. It is God's wish that all people should be saved and that none of the little ones should be lost.23 "The priest must always be ready to respond to the needs of souls," said the Cur6 of Ars.24 "He is not for himself, he is for you."25 The priest is for the laity. He animates them and supports them in the exercise of the common priesthood of the baptized--so well illustrated by the Second Vatican Council--which consists in their making their lives a spiritual offering, in witnessing to the Christian spirit in the family, in taking charge of the temporal sphere and sharing in the evangelization of their brethren. But the service of the priest belongs to another order. He is ordained to act in the name of Christ the head, to bring people into the new life made accessible by Christ, to dispense to them the mysteries---the word, forgiveness, the bread of life--to gather them into his body, to help them to form themselves from within, to live and to act according to the saving plan of God. In a word, our identity as priests is manifested in the "creative" exercise of the love for souls communicated by Christ Jesus. Attempts to make the priest more like the laity are damaging to the Church. This does not mean in any way that the priest can remain remote from the human concerns of the laity. He must be. very near to them, as John Mary Vianney was, but as a priest, always in a perspective which is of their salvation and of the progress of the kingdom of God. He is the witness and dispenser of a life other than earthly life.26 It is essential to the Church that the identity of the priest be safeguarded with its vertical dimension. The life and personality enlightening and vigorous illustration of this. Configuration to Christ and Solidarity with Sinners St. John Mary Vianney did not content himself with the ritual carrying out of the activities of his ministry. It was his heart and his life which he sought to conform to Christ. Prayer was the soul of his life: silent and contemplative prayer, gener- 4~0 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 ally in his church at the foot of the tabernacle. Through Christ, his soul opened to the three divine persons, to whom he would entrust "his poor soul" in his last will and testament. "He kept a constant union with God in the middle of an extremely busy life," And he did not neglect the Office or the rosary. He turned spontaneously to the Virgin. His poverty was extraordinary. He literally stripped himself of every-thing for the poor. And he shunned honors. Chastity shone in his face. He knew the value of purity in order "to rediscover the source of love, which is God." Obedience to Christ consisted, for John Mary Vianney, in obedience to the Church and especially to the bishop. This obedience took the form of accepting the heavy charge of being a parish priest, which often fright-ened him. But the Gospel insists especially on renouncing self, on accepting the cross. Many were the crosses which presented themselves to the Cur6 of Ars in the course of his ministry: calumny on the part of the people, being misunderstood by an assistant priest or other confreres, contradictions, and also a mysterious struggle against the powers of hell, and sometimes even the temptation to despair in the midst of spiritual darkness. Nonetheless he did not content himself with just accepting these trials without complaining; he went beyond them by mortification, imposing on himself continual fasts and many other rugged practices in order ''to reduce his body to servitude," as St. Paul says. But what we must see clearly in this penance, which our age unhappily has little taste for, are his motives: love of God and the conversion of sinners. Thus he asks a discouraged fellow priest: "You have prayed . you have wept . but have you fasted, have you kept vigil?"27 Here we are close to the warning of Jesus to the apostles: "But this kind is cast out only by prayer and fasting."28 In a word, John Mary Vianney sanctified himself so as to be more able to sanctify others. Of course, conversion remains the secret of hearts, which are free in their actions, and the secret of God's grace. By his ministry, the priest can only enlighten people, guide them in the internal forum and give them the sacraments. The sacraments are, of course, actions of Christ, and their effectiveness is not diminished by the imperfection or unworthiness of the minister. But the results depend also on the dispositions of those who receive them, and these are greatly assisted by the personal holiness of the priest, by his perceptible witness, as also by the mysterious exchange of merits in the communion of saints. St. Paul said: "In my flesh I complete what is lacking in Christ's afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the Church."29 John Mary Vianney in a sense Wished to force God to grant these graces of conversion, not only by his prayer but by the sacrifice of his whole life. He wished to love God for those who did not love him and even A Letter to Priests / 491 do the penance which they would not do. He was truly a pastor completely at one with his sinful people. Dear brother priests, let us not be afraid of this very personal commit-ment-- marked by asceticism and inspired by love--which God asks of us for the proper exercise of our priesthood. Let us remember the recent reflections of the synodal fathers: "It seems to us that in the difficulties of today God wishes to teach us more deeply the value, importance and central place of the cross of Jesus Christ."30 In the priest, Christ relives his passion for the sake of souls. Let us give thanks to God, who thus permits us to share in the redemption, in our hearts and in our fles!! For all these reasons, St. John Mary Vianney never ceases to be a witness, ever living, ever relevant, to the truth about the priestly vocation and service. We recall the convincing way in which he spoke of the great-ness of the priest and of the absolute need for him. Those who are already priests, those who are preparing for the priesthood and those who will be called to it must fix their eyes on his example and follow it. The faithful too will more clearly grasp, thanks to him, the mystery of the priesthood of their priests. No, the figure of the Cur6 of Ars does not fade. Conclusion Dear brothers, may these reflections renew your joy at being priests, your desire to be priests more profoundly! The witness of the Cur6 of Ars contains still other treasures to be discovered. We shall return to these themes at greater length during the pilgrimage which I shall have the joy of making next October, since the French bishops have invited me to Ars in honor of the second centenary of the birth of John Mary Vianney. I address this first meditation to you, dear brothers, for the solemnity of Holy Thursday. In each of our diocesan communities we are going to gather together, on this birthday of our priesthood, to renew the grace of the sacrament of orders, to stir up the love which is the mark of our vocation. We hear Christ saying to us as he said to the apostles: "Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends., I have called you friends.TM Before him who manifests love in its fullness, we priests and bishops renew our priestly commitments. We pray for one another, each for his brother and all for all. We ask the eternal Father that the memory of the Cur6 of Ars may help to stir up our zeal in his service. We beseech the Holy Spirit to call to the Church's service many priests of the caliber and holiness of the Cur6 of Ars: In our age she has so great a 492 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 need of them, and she is no less capable of bringing such vocations to full flower. And we entrust our priesthood to the Virgin Mary, the mother of priests, to whom John Mary Vianney ceaselessly had recourse with tender affection and total confidence. This was for him another reason for giving thanks: "Jesus Christ," he said, "having given us all that he could give us, also wishes to make us heirs of what is most precious to him, his holy mother.'S2 For my part, I assure you once more of my great affection, and with your bishop, I send you my apostolic blessing. From the Vatican, March 16, 1986, the fifth Sunday of Lent, in the eighth year of my pontificate. NOTES ~Jn 13:!. 2See Jn 10:11. ~See 2 Tm 1:6. aSee Jean-Marie Vianney, Curb d' Ars, Sa Pensee, Son Coeur, presented by Abbe Bernard Nodet, Editions Xavier Mappus, Le Puy, 1958, p. 100. Henceforth quoted as: Nodet. 5Nodet, p. 44. 6See 1 Co 1:28-19. 7See John Paul II, post-synodal apostolic exhortation Reconciliatio et Paenitentia (Dec. 2, 1984): AAS 77 (1985), pp. 185-275. sSee John Paul I1, encyclical letter Redemptor Hominis (March 14, 1979), no. 20: AAS 71 (1979), pp. 313-316. 9See Reconciliatio et Paenitentia, n. 28. ~°.See ibid, 29. ~'John Paul II, Letter to Priests for Holy Thursday, 1983, No. 3: AAS 75 (1983), Pars I, p. 419. ~2See Redemptor Hominis, n. 20. ~JMk 1:15. ~4Nodet, p. 108. ~5Ibid, p. 107. 161bid, p. 110. ~7Ibid, p. 108. taSecond Vatican Council, Lumen Gentium, n. 28. 191I, b, b/1 and c/l; see LG n. 11. 2°Nodet, p. 126. 2'Second Vatican Council, Presbyterorum Ordinis, n. 4. ~See ibid. 23See Mt 18:14. 24Nodet, p. 101. 2~Ibid, p. 102. ~6See Presbyterorum Ordinis, n. 3. 27Nodet, p. 193. 2SMt 17:21. 29Co1 1:24. 3°Final Report, D/2. 3lJn 15:13-15. 32Nodet, p. 252. Religious Life: God's Call and Our Response Christopher Kiesling, O P. Father Kiesling is professor emeritus of systematic theology at Aquinas Institute in St. Louis, and former editor of Spirituality Today. He may be addressed at liis residence: 97 Waterman Place, Saint Louis, Missouri 63112. What is religious life--an institution of life? Actually, it is both, but it does not make a difference how we view it primarily. From an observer's point of view, it is an institution, an organization of life to achieve a specific goal by particular means. From a participant's perspective, it is life which, as it unfolds, assumes a pattern. If we think of religious life first as an institution, emphasis falls on the organizational elements. It then appears as a more or less fixed framework existing "out there" into which people must learn to fit. On the other hand, if religious life is perceived primarily as life, the stress is on the religious development of the people who constitute a community. This article considers religious life from a participant's viewpoint and describes it as a call from God to which we respond, both call and response mediated by Jesus Christ, the Church, a religious congregation, and personal history. A call is something with which we are familiar. People call us to catch our attention when they want us to do something. We receive telephone calls. A call comes from outside of ourselves. It enters into us and evokes a response of attention or rejection and, if attention, a further response of action or refusal to act. Religious life'is aptly regarded as a call. We commonly refer to religious 493 4~1 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 life as a vocation, which means "call." We religious are aware that our religious life comes from outside of ourselves, that is, our controlling ego, whether we imagine the call as coming from above us or from the depths of our being. We can explain to people why we are religious. But even as we offer reasons for our choice of religious life, we are conscious that even the totality of answers does not adequately explain our choice. The "why" of our religious life always contains an element of mystery. In the light of faith, we attribute this mystery, not simply to our ignorance of our com-plex and often subconscious motivations, but to God's call as the ultimate and inexplicable reason for our being religious. God's call to choose this way of life has entered our controlling ego, caught our attention, and won a response of action from us. God's call is enduring. It continues to invite us to renew radically our choice of religious life or to choose activities which confirm our radical choice. God's call is effective. It accomplishes what it asks, provided that we do not place obstacles in the way. God called creation out of nothingness, Israel out of Egypt, Jesus out of death. So to say that religious life is a call from God is not to affirm only that it begins with God's catching our attention and proposing a way of life for our choice. God's call enables us to attend to it and to respond to it initially and continually. Our religious life, in other words, is God's work in us. Yet we freely choose religious life; it is also our work. One reason why explanations for our choice of religious life seem inadequate is that they do not amount to an absolutely compelling set of motives for our choice. We could have done, and even now can do, otherwise than follow this way of life. If we follow it, we have freely chosen to do so. Hence religious life is both God's efficacious call at work within us and our response freely given: it is life issuing from our own hearts as well as from God's call. As the call is enduring, so is the response in the form of periodic radical renewals of our choice of religious life and in the form of daily choices of activities confirm-ing the radical choice. How religious life can be the result of both God's efficacious call and our free response is, of course, a mystery which theologians over the centuries have not been able to illuminate, much less explain, in a way agreeable to all. It is a mystery we are forced to acknowledge, however, for we cannot deny our experience of freedom and respons~ibility on the one hand and, on the other, the necessity of God's grace for us sinners to live a life pleasing to God. Our response to God's call to religious life is not only.free but is meant to embrace the whole of our lives. Religious life is life. It is more than a Religious Ltfe: God's Call / 495 particular organization of life and more than a job to be done. It embraces our bodily being, sensible perception, emotional functioning, and spiritual operations. Following Bernard Lonergan's lead,~ we can list a host of activities which we can attribute to our spirit, a spirit of inquiry, and which we constantly perform as we go about daily living: we experience, observe, note, gather information, seek insight, discover intelligibility, conceptualize, find words to express our ideas, check our ideas against reality (that is reason about them), judge them to be true or false in comparison with what is, evaluate the goodness or badness of what we find in reality, decide whether or not to choose this or that good, choose, and act to carry out what is chosen. These activities prompted by the spirit of inquiry engage, it should be noted, not only intellectual operations (e.g., questioning, seeking insight, reasoning) but also bodily activities (e.g., experiencing, observing, noting), emotional reactions (e.g., evaluating), and operations of the will (e.g., choosing, acting). So the response which constitutes, with God's efficacious call, religious life is very comprehensive. Religious life as response to God's call entails the whole of life in several ways. It involves giving of the whole of ourselves to God, all the components of our persons and personalities. We are called to give the whole of our-selves wholly, that is, to direct all our energies to the giving of the whole of ourselves to God. And we are called to give the whole of ourselves wholly for the whole of life, for the vocation is not to a training period in religious behavior, or to an extended retreat, or to a supervised experience of com-munity living (as valuable as such experiences may be for some people), but to religious life. To achieve, or rather approach achievement, of such totality of response to God's call is a lifetime task. Religious life as composed of God's call and our response is, then, ongoing dialogue and interaction between God and ourselves. It is event, something that happens, a dynamic reality. It is highly personal. It is not a relatively rigid framework into which everyone must fit in exactly the same way, but cooperative,activity between ourselves and God. It assumes insti-tutional form because it is social and occurs in community. But it always overflows its organization because it is first of all life adapting itself to changing circumstances in dialogue and interaction with God. Periodic congregational and provincial chapters required by canon law are recogni-tion that religious life is primarily engendered in dialogue and interaction with God in changing situations, rather than being relatively unchangeable institutional organization. The Bible contains numerous stories of God's call to various persons and their responses. We think of God's call to Abraham (Gn 12:1-9), Moses (Ex 3:1-4:17), Joshua (Dt 31:14-15, 23; (Jos 1:1-9), Gideon (Jg 6:11-24), 4~6 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 Samuel (1 Sam 3:1-21), Saul (1 S 9:1-10:24), Isaiah (Is 6:1-13), Jeremiah (Jr 1:4-19), Ezekiel (Ezk 1:3-3:15), Joseph (Mt 1:18-25; 2:13-15, 19-23), Mary (Lk 1:26-28), Jesus (Mt 3:13-17), Simon, Andrew, James, and John (Mt 5:18-22; Lk 5:1-11), Matthew, or Levi (Mr 9:9), and Paul (Ac 9:1-19). These accounts of God's call and the initial response of certain biblical figures together with further narratives of their carrying out their response are a source of reflection for religious. They alert us to the variety of ways in which God calls people and the diversity of responses that are possible. They help us to hear God's call to us today, to interpret it, and to answer it appropriately. God's call is not a divine shout or whisper which we hear with our ears, or even an interior imagining of such a vocal invitation. God's call--and our response also--are mediated. They are mediated first of all through Jesus Christ. God's call comes to us in the urging of Jesus to follow him (Mt 4:18-22; 8:19-22; 9:9-13; 10:37-38; 19:16-30 and parallels in Luke and Mark). Religious life is rooted in Jesus' call to become his disciples, for religious life developed in the Church as a way of responding to Jesus' call to discipleship. The scriptural passages recounting Jesus' invitation to come after him are, therefore, important for religious to meditate on because in them they "hear" Jesus' call and, through that call, the call of God whom Jesus addressed as Abba (Father)? God's call is mediated not only by Jesus in his earthly life remembered in the Scriptures but also by Jesus in risen glory. The basis for saying this is the continuance of Jesus'. followers' discipleship after the resurrection (Ac 1:3) and their being sent by the risen Lord to forgive sin (Jn 20:21-23) and to preach his message throughout the whole world (Mt 28:18-20). Another basis is the resurrected Jesus' call of Saul on the road to Damascus (Ac 9:3-6). Still another foundation is the conviction of religious through the centuries that Jesus' call comes to them not merely in the memory of his earthly life recorded in Scripture, but that Jesus the risen Lord calls them personally now as he once called his followers after his resurrection in Palestine nearly two thousand years ago. Our response of religious life is also mediated by Jesus. By his self-offer-ing on the cross, Jesus reconciled us to God, removing the obstacles between us and God, and giving us access to God. His sacrifice won for us the divine help, grace, whereby we are enabled to live for God. The risen Jesus now "forever lives to intercede for us" (Heb 7:25). He prepares a kingdom, which includes the lives of religious, that he will hand over to his Father at the end of time (1 Co 15:24-25). He lives in us, making our discipleship in religious life a reality (Jn 15:4-5; Ga 2:20; Ep 4:16; Col 1:27). Jesus is the mediator of our response to God's call also in the sense that Religious Life: God's Call / 497 his life is the model for the kind of response we as religious seek to make to God's call. Our religious life, then, is like our liturgical worship: it is "through Christ our Lord," in regard to both God's call and our response. Jesus' call to religious life, both the earthly and the risen Jesus' call, is mediated to us by the Church. The celebration of the word and the sacra-ments in the liturgy, evangelization, catechesis, preaching, religious educa-tion, theology, pastoral counseling, spiritual direction, doctrinal teaching regarding faith and morals, dogmatic definitions--all these ecclesial activi-ties recall the memory of the earthly Jesus, convey the action of the risen Lord through his Spirit, and so extend God's call in Jesus to discipleship and thus to religious life. Not less worthy of consideration are the activities of parents, school teachers, religious sisters and brothers, parish priests, Newman chaplains, and others who in various ways make Jesus' call to discipleship a particular invitation to us. The Church, we must absolutely not forget, consists of all the baptized faithful, not only the clergy, or the bishops, or the pope, or the Roman curia. The Church's mediating Jesus' call to us is experienced chiefly in the direct encounters we have with a variety of Church members at a local level. The mediation of the Church is a crucial factor in God's call coming to us. The faithful gathering of God's people through the centuries for wor-ship, for care for one another, for all the needy, and for the reform of society has had an impact on people. It has raised questions in people's minds about the purpose of life and the value of their occupations. It has thus led to the discovery of God,s call in Jesus to discipleship and life with the Father and all his children. At times parts of the Church, whether among the clergy or the laity or the religious, have not been very edifying in their lives or credible vehicles conveying the call to follow Jesus. But God overrides these obstacles and somehow uses them, faulty as they may be, to quicken the life of his people. God raises up saints, canonized and noncanonized, in every age. Even the unchurched depend upon the Church, for if they have faith in Jesus Christ, if they treasure the Bible, if they seek to imitate the conduct of Jesus, they have inherited all these values from the community of the faithful, from the Church, which has preserved them over the centuries through times of unity and division, fervor and laxity, freedom and persecution. As we religious think of the Church as mediating God's call through Jesus, we ought not to romanticize our idea of the Church, but accept it in all its weakness, defects, and even sins. Despite imperfections and even perversities, it remains a vehicle whereby God communicates to us the divine word and the power to renew our lives. Through the Church we tlgl~ / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 have access to God. The Church may be a besmirched sacrament of God's union with humanity and of all men and women with one another--a sacrament badly in need of being cleansed and polished. But it is still that sacrament and our need of it is profound. And it may not be as badly besmirched as many people take for granted in this era of suspicion towards all institutions. The Church civilized barbarian Europe, preserved the vestiges of classical culture, and provided for the sick, handicapped, and poor until the modern state developed and could take over social concerns. Even now it is the Church, along with other voluntary associa-tions, which cares for people who fall between the cracks of social welfare in modern society. Not only is Jesus' call to religious life mediated by the Church but also our response. Founders of religious orders and congregations, the ancient commentators on monastic life, preachers of retreats, congregations' chap-ters, and canonical legislation over the centuries have interpreted the so-called evangelical counsels, laid down rules to safeguard their practice, and confirmed the constitutions of orders and congregations. Religious respond to God's call in Jesus by using this interpretation, these regulations, and these constitutions in the guidance of their lives. The Church, moreover, prays for religious. This is eminently obvious in the liturgies for religious profession, but appears also from time to time in the general intercessions at Mass and in the Liturgy of the Hours. Many members of God's people, such as parents or friends, pray for religious in unofficial ways. All these prayers intercede for religious, not simply that they be called by God, but that they cooperate with that call by responding with the gift of their lives. The apostolates which religious engage in are approved by the Church, or assigned by the Church, or carried out in the name of the Church, and serve the needs of the Church, both in its inner life and in its mission to the world. Insofar as the ministry of religious constitutes part of their response to God's and Jesus' call, that part of their response is also mediated by the Church. We religious need to be increasingly appreciative that the ecclesial life in which we participate is a concrete way of saying yes to God's call through Jesus Christ. God's call and our response, constitutive of religious life, are further mediated by a religious order or congregation. The call through Jesus and the Church comes to an individual through some community whose members, ideals, apostolate, and lifestyle attract attention and evoke a desire to participate. Perhaps only one religious community has ever been enticing, or several may have proved interesting but eventually one is singled out as the concrete form of God's call and of personal response. Sometimes the religious congregation that draws a person is one encoun- Religious Life: God's Call / 499 tered first in childhood; sometimes the one known most recently in adult-hood embodies God's call. The contact with the religious group may have been initiated through vocational literature or through acquaintance with some members of the congregation. The admissions procedure and basic formation program of a religious community mediate God's call either to that community or to some other group, or even to another way of Christian life. A community's constitutions, its chapters' decisions, and its ministries are all further mediations of God's call to the community's members. The congregation's life and mission, taken up and lived by the members of the community, become the concrete form in which they say yes to God's call through Jesus Christ mediated by the Church. Religious life as life which flows from the depths of persons toward God assumes a pattern of organization which characterizes a particular religious group. Hence the importance of appreciating one's congregational history, life, ministry, constitutions, and members, for they all convey concretely, existentially, in a down-to-earth way both God's call and our response through Jesus Christ and through the Church. Finally, God's call is mediated through our personal history. It is not difficult to see our response to God's call as mediated through personal history, for our response is precisely our living out in time our personal religious life. But personal history also mediates the call from God. Our temperament, character, personality, neuroses, talents that incline us to find religious life attractive and a particular congregation congenial have been inherited from parents, family, teachers, friends, and other significant people in our lives. The social environment in which we grew up, the schooling we had, work experiences, and events which made deep impressions on our psyches have all left traces in us which contribute to making religious life appealing and this order or congregation attractive. In religious life many similar factors enter into our history to confirm our continuation in that way of life. Still other factors peculiar to religious life support our further dedication, such as agreeable experiences of com-munity, enjoymeht and success in ministry, satisfaction of the desire for prayer, and the gratifying sense of helping others in need. Since we believe that our lives are guided by divine providence, we believe that all these factors which make religious life attractive and fulfill-ing are indeed God's call to us to follow Christ in religious life. Self-knowl-edge, then, plays an important role in discerning God's call to religious life and in assessing the quality of our response to that call. Why do we need to consider these mediations of God's call and our response? The answer is: to be realistic and avoid false idealism. We need to recognize that the mediation of God's call through Jesus, especially as 500 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 further mediated through the very human realities of the Church, a religious community, and personal history means that the call is now always going to be clear. At times we may scarcely "hear" it; at other times it will seem obvious. On some occasions it will appear to be a certain path on which to follow Jesus; but at other times it will seem risky, a gamble, of dubious value. The mediation of our response will sometimes be exciting, adventur-ous, a joyful and deeply satisfying enterprise; at other times it will be prosaic, routine, dull, and even boring; and at still other times it will be chaotic, exasperating, and exhausting physically and emotionally. So fidelity to the moments of obvious call and fulfilling response must tide us over times of obscurity and dullness. Young religious in particular are apt to idealize elements of religious life. They expect more from religious community than it can actually provide. Unrealistic expectations of the change that they can effect in the lives of individuals and society through their ministry can lead to disap-pointment and discouragement when those expectations are not fulfilled. But if we understand that even in these less satisfying and less brilliant moments of religious life God is efficaciously calling us and we are working out our response, some value can be found even in the commonplace and unsuccessful. Indeed, those situations can purify our motivation. We hear and answer God's call because it is God's call and we wish to give our lives to God, not because we find delight or satisfaction in the particular form in which God's call comes or in which our response is given. God's call is mediated through Jesus. Jesus referred to God as his Abba (Father) and so distinguished his person from the person of Abba. Our call to religious life, and the one to whom we respond, is ultimately the first person of the Trinity, the font of divine life in the Trinity, the origin without origin among the three divine persons. Jesus as Son is the image of the first person of the Trinity and in his humanity conveys to us the Father's call to share in the divine life. The Son incarnate also provides for us the model for sharing in the life of the Trinity, namely, to receive all we have from the Father and return it to the Father. We are enabled to regard the first person of the Trinity in this way and to have faith in the Son incarnate as conveying God's call to us and exemplifying for us our response because Jesus' Abba and the risen Jesus have poured forth into our hearts their Holy Spirit, the third person of the Trinity. The Spirit is the love binding Father and Son together in the divine life, and the Spirit then binds us into the triune life through the life which she engenders in our hearts. God's call and our response which constitute our religious life entails Religious Ltfe: God's Call / 501 our being related to each of the three divine persons of the Trinity: being called by the Father, responding by the power of the Spirit, hearing the call and making our response through the Son. NOTES ~Method in Theology (New York: Herder and Herder, 1972), pp. 2-20. 2For studies of these scriptural passages in relation to religious life, see Francis Moloney, Disciples and Prophets (New York: Crossroads, 1981) pp. 9-12, 19-31, 62-63, 89-90, 105-14, 133-54; John M. Lozano, Discipleship: Toward an Understanding of Religious life (Chicago: Claret Center for Resources in Spirituality, 1980), pp. 5-18, 31-38. Christ the Center of Our Vowed Life b.v Boniface Ramsey, O.P. Father Ramsey's three articles on the vows of religion are available as a single reprint: i - The Center of Religious Poverty ii - Christocentric Celibacy iii - Cruciform Obedience Price: $1.75 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. .St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Expectations in Religious Community James Fitz, S.M. Father Fitz is a member of the provincial administration of the Cincinnati province of his community. Prior to that, he was director of novices for six years. He may be addressed at the Marianist Provincialate; 4435 East Patterson Road; Dayton, Ohio 45430-1095. In the Old Testament, God and Israel are major partners in covenant. God has certain expectations of Israel; Israel has certain expectations of God. These mutual expectations become a source of security for Israel and a call for Israel to be what it is capable of becoming. The very nature of covenant implies life-enhancing expectations. In the New Testament, we, the Church, have become the people of the new covenant. Again expecta-tions are part of the covenant. For example, "This is my commandment: love one another as I have loved you"(Jn 15:12). Faithfulness to the cove-nant is one of the characteristics of our God; unfaithfulness has often been our response. However, God continues to call us, his people, to all that we are capable of becoming. Our God is faithful even when we are unfaithful. Covenant is the basis of our commitment to one another in religious communities. We join communities because we can do some things in community that we cannot do alone. In community we find the support and challenge to be the disciples of Christ that we are called to be. The Christian call is a continual call. We are made to be in union with others; none of us is complete in ourselves. Since we are made in the image and likeness of our God who is loving, generative and faithful, we will not be fulfilled unless we love, give life and are faithful. In the covenant communities we form as religious, we too have expec-tations of one another. Although expectations are not the only ingredient 502 Expectations in Religious Community / 503 for good community, I have learned during the past nine years in a leader-ship role in religious community the important role expectations play in building community and also the problematical role of hidden and unreal expectations. There are two important dynamics in terms of our expecta-tions in community. First, it is important that members of communities identify their expectations of one another in order that hidden expectations do not lead to unnecessary tension and conflict. Secondly, after expecta-tions are identified, it is important to sort out which are life-enhancing and which are not. It is important to identify expectations that we are capable of meeting, which call us to be the persons God calls us to be, and in which it is worth investing our energy. I have found it helpful to understand clearly what are fai? and realistic expectations. These expectations are based on who we are and what we are capable of becoming. On the one hand, we cannot expect from others something that is not truly possible for them to be. On the other hand, our expectations should call them to be the best that they can be. Since our expectatigns are to be fair and realistic, there are some things we cannot expect. We can hope that they happen, but we cannot expect them. An example may be illustrative. We can hope that we will have a deep friend-ship with each member of our local community. However we cannot expect or demand that each becomes our friend. Friendship is a gi~ that must be received, not an expectation that can be demanded. Fair and realistic expectations, clearly stated, are the building blocks for a Gospel community of one mind and one heart. With obvious room for forgiveness for human failings, it is important in covenant community that we invite and challenge each other to meet the fair and realistic expectations we have set in our covenant. If we grant that clear expectations are important to community, then it is important to identify the realistic expectations we can have in Christian community. What are the expectations that call us forth to build together the community of one mind and one heart that is the invitation of the New Testament Scriptures? There are probably many that could be listed. My experience has surfaced five important expectations: respect, honesty, care, forgiveness and faithfulness. Respect The dignity of the human person is one of the basic principles of Catholic social thought and an important basis for building Christian community. Therefore, the mutual respect of the dignity of each person is an important expectation in community. Members of a community will never bring their human potential to actuality unless there is a true respect 51~4 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 of that potential and the invitation to use it. There are many ways that we can demonstrate respect for one another in community. For example, it is important that we listen to one another when we speak. We do not have to agree with others, but the Gospel calls us to give others our full attention when they speak. For example, do 1 try to hear another's concern? Do I listen well enough to be able to feed back that concern, or am I busy formulating a response before I really hear what is being said? Do I try to be sensitive to nonverbal as well as verbal messages? Another form of respect would be to respect one another's privacy and .need for quiet, to respect one another's personal belongings. Examples of respect could be multiplied. It should be clear that without a mutual respect, little can be done to build a rich community experience. Honesty Honesty is one of the basic elements for building any type of relation-ship but especially a trust relationship. Since some level of trust is necessary for community, honesty is an important covenant expectation. The honesty about which I speak is not a harsh, brutal honesty but an honesty that proceeds from a loving and compassionate heart modeled on Jesus. It is an honesty based on the conviction that the truth will set us free (Jn 8:32). I find that the lack of honesty in community is one of the principal obstacles to real growth in the common heart and soul to which we are invited by the New Testament experience. Religious, in my experience, often have difficulty expressing and dealing with their true feelings, whether positive or negative. Fearful of phony affirmation, some religious are afraid to say what they like about their brothers and sisters. Others of us have difficulty accepting positive affirmation when it comes our way. We also have problems with negative feelings. Somehow we hope that they will go away or no one will notice. However, as we know, negative feelings generally do get expressed, sometimes in passive-aggressive behavior. I sometimes marvel at how long it takes us to express our negative feelings when a discussion of them could eliminate a great deal of tension. Our fear of confrontation can lead us to hold onto our negative feelings. But have we not also learned that the honest and charitable discussion of our feelings can lead to deeper and more understanding relationships? Some of my best friendships have come to fruition because I have honestly shared some negative feelings in a desire to create deeper relationships. Even when honesty has not led to deeper, relationship, the mutual understanding and respect has most often led to the lessening of tension. One of the greatest hurts for me in community is hearing criticism second hand. It bothers me Expectations in Religious Community because it means the possibility of deeper relationship is blocked. When we care enough for others to affirm and confront them honestly, there is a possibility of deeper relationship and for a union of hearts. Compassionate and loving honesty is not the only ingredient for unity in community. But no community can develop without it. Without an expe-rience of honesty, we can never feel secure enough to trust one another, and share on the level that bonds more deeply in our mutual covenant. Care The expectation of care flows from the call of the Gospel: "Whatever you do to the least of my brothers and sisters, you do unto me" (Mt 25:40). We are called upon to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the sick (notice the Gospel does not say we must be attracted by them). We are asked to care. In community we should care about each of our brothers and sisters. We should care about their spiritual growth, their physical health, and their other needs for full life. It would be a tragedy in my mind if a brother in my community were in the hospital and none of us had the time to visit, if a brother was struggling with his commitment to celibacy and no one cared enough to talk to him about the issue, or if a brother was drinking himself into the grave and no one intervened. It is true that if we are not careful some can manipulate us in this area by trying to lay guilt on us. But that should not stop us from honestly giving of ourselves in care of others. In fact our care should lead us to challenge the manipulating brother or sister; it should lead us to challenge him or her firmly and compassionately to adult living. In order to avoid unreal expectations, it is important to distinguish care from friendship. Care and friendship are not the same. We can honestly care for a brother or sister who is not a friend. Friendship is a relationship of mutual attraction, sharing and trust. In Christian community, we can reasonably expect some care when we are sick or hungry or lonely. How-ever, we cannot demand friendship. We can offer the gift of care, love, and trust and hope for a response to that gift, but we must remember that these can never become a demand. Forgiveness Forgiveness is also an important expectation in community. We are all imperfect human persons in process towards fullness of life; we are reli-gious on a journey. Like St. Paul, we do the things we do not want to do and do not do the things we want to do. Therefore, we must be willing to forgive our brothers and sisters when they ask for forgiveness. Forgiveness does not necessarily mean to forget as some popular wisdom has it. But it 506 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 does mean to heal the events of our lives. Some of the hurts in our relationships with fellow community members may be hard to forget but healing will lead us to remember the events in a new way. We can grow to view these events as moments of grace in our relationship and remember them in that way. They become moments of reconciliation. So we need to forgive others and to forgive ourselves; we need others to forgive us. Both dynamics are necessary if we are to grow together in the common heart and soul of the New Testament ideal. Faithfulness Finally, I .feel we can expect faithfulness in community since we are made in the image and likeness of a faithful God. This faithfulness is expressed, for example, in community agreements and in the community mission. If, for our growth as a faith community, we agree to pray together in the morning and evening, then it is fair to expect members of the community to be present. If we agree to meet on Monday evening to develop and coordinate our common mission, then it is fair to expect that we will all be there for the meeting. If we decide to live simply by sharing the cooking, then we can expect all to share the task. Obviously we can make exceptions to an agreement. But those with whom we have made an agreement have a voice in the exception. For example, if we have agreed to do the cooking, and one member finds it difficult or impossible to do, he or she should share that with the community either at the time the agreement is made or when he or she finds out that it is impossible to fulfill the terms of the agreement. Then we can renegotiate the agreement in some way satisfactory or at least acceptable to all involved. We are made in the image and likeness of a faithful God; we should invite and challenge one another to be the faithful people we are capable of becoming. Conclusion There are probably other expectations that are fair and realistic in covenant community. But the ones developed in this article are essential if our community life is to have a healthy sense of security and is to be life-enhancing. Communities can even agree to more expectations of one another (times of prayer, sharing personal faith, simple living statements, and so forth). The important thing for developing a community of one mind and one heart is that expectations be as clear as possible. Without clear expectations we create an environment for tension and conflict. Clarified expectations will not lead to deep community life. This is only a start. As I mentioned at the beginning, expectations are not the only ingredient in good Christian religious community. I have found that good Expectations in Religious Community / 507 community goes beyond expectations. There are many attitudes that con-tribute to good community life: trust, generosity, patience, and so forth. In focusing on expectations, the most important attitude to keep in mind is generosity. "If your brother (or sister) asks you to go one mile, go two" (Mt 6:41). We should not count in community. We should not first be concerned about how others perform. We should examine our own per-formance. "Remove the plank from your own eye first; then you will see clearly to take the speck from your brother's (sister's) eye" (Mt 7:5). Our God is faithful to us even when we are unfaithful. To be a creative agent of community we must remain faithful to our covenant even when our brother or sister is unfaithful. We should be generous as our God in heaven has been generous with us. "Love one another as I have loved you" (1 Jn 15:12). God has taken the initiative in our lives; we are called to do the same for our brothers and sisters. If everyone is giving generously in community, we have the foundation on which deep Christian community can develop. We have the strongest foundation for a life of one mind and one heart. Friendship It seems but a word on this page. It cannot, does not, describe-- a patient listening, a gentle touch; soft, comforting nearness, forgiveness--waiting ready before the hurt, hilarity shared together (Snoopy-dancing--you are a crazy person, you know!) tears--hard-coming, yet trustingly dampen my heart, insights, thoughts, dreams, ESP?. yes! remembering--in prayer, close to my heart honest, pulling and dragging (sometimes fearfully) each the other-- forward, closer, faithful It cannot contain--my friend, my other self., this mere word Love. Sister Mary Therese Macys, S.S.C. 2601 W. Marquette Road Chicago, Illinois 60629 ToSee the Other Side. George J. Schemel, S.J. Father Schemel is founder and director of the newly formed Institute for Contempor-ary Spirituality at the University of Scranton (Scranton, Pennsylvania 18510). An earlier article of Father Schemel was "In Time of Consolation." which appeared in the issue of January/February, 1985. The need for enabling and empowering structures for groups increases as the group's complexity increases. There are just and unjust structures right within our own apostolic and community operations. To be insensitive to our own unjust structures and processes makes us less believable when we address such structures in society at large. The injustice is found in the very process of coming to decision. It is this unjust process that allows us to walk over the deeply held personal values of another. It is truly a personally oppressive structure, inefficient in method and leading to poor apostolic decisions. Yet it passes unnoticed and uncorrected because of ignorance and lack of awareness in this area, though often little personal culpability is involved. The objective wrong is great, however, and cannot be condoned just because of ignorance or lack of awareness. The average community meeting, with its amorphous structure and ill-defined processes is often a nightmare of unjust structures. In general there are few, if any, haphazardly just structures. What just structures and processes there are, flourish because of much examination, evaluation, and consistent implementation. Not to be consciously structured is usually to be unjustly structured. It is my observation and experience that most unjust structures in religious life, both on the one-to-one interpersonal level and on the level of . 5O8 To See the Other Side. / 509 the group apostolate or community, come from lack of "thinking" as this is understood in the Jungian perspective. This notion of thinking is character-ized by discursive logic and the isolation of variables. There are other sources of injustice in our apostolates and community life, of course,~ but none is so pervasive as this lack of thinking. The orientation and cast of our religious apostolates and communities are so overwhelmingly affective that the lack of formal thinking is not even noticed directly. We become aware of it only in its effects; the disruption and confusion caused by processes which largely ignore the thinking function. It is taken as axiomatic in the realm of interpersonal relationship that we must not hurt anyone's feelings. It is my contention that one's thinking is due the same respect and care; this is far from obvious in most religious circles today. I would like to present a proper process of coming to decision that will be just, efficient and phenomenologically correct. Reflecting on the process will also help "convict and convert" attitudes; unjust processes and atti-tudes will show up in high relief. The process will involve achieving consen-sus on different levels of an issue and moving through to a final decision. It will move from an assimilation of pertinent facts and data, through an appreciation of the interrelatedness, interconnections, and potentialities of the data and facts, through a discursive rationality of necessary causal nexus, to final judgment of fittingness and suitability. It will follow the functionally sequential "gradient of more difficult consensus." S--N--T--F In order to establish an adequate vocabulary with which to talk about this problem, I would like to call on the matrix of psychological types elaborated by C.G. Jung and its current popularization by the Myers Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI). I will give only a short summary here, and refer those interested in a further development of psychological types and the MBTI to other sources where a more complete understanding may be pursued.2 Those already very familiar with type theory may want to skip to page 513. Type Theory In order to account for certain consistencies and inconsistencies in behavior that he observed among different types of people, Jung elabo-rated his theory of psychological type. The theory, in essence, sees all conscious mental activity as reducible to two main processes, perception and judgment. Perception is a process of "becoming aware of."; of gathering data, taking in information. It is a non-rational process. We do this work of ~$'10 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 taking in data in one of two ways: either by "sensation" or by "intuition." Actually of course we use both these functions, Sensation and iNtuition, to gather in information, but we have a decided preference for one way or the other. We cannot take in data by both Sensation and iNtuition at the same time. At best, they can operate sequentially, but one way will be decidedly preferred to the other. (Note that it is common usage to indicate Sensation by "S" and intuition by "N'; 'T' is reserved for Introversion). Sensation is perception or data gathering by the concrete singular. It takes in specifics, by use of the five senses. It perceives things one at a time. Sensation is tolerant of routine, sameness, specified procedures. Sometimes it can't see the forest for the tree. Sensation has a present-time orientation. The other form of perception is intuition. It perceives in terms of patterns, relationships; intuition sees possibilities, interconnections, impli-cations. It is perception by way of the unconscious. INtuition likes variety, challenge, is future-time oriented. Sometimes it can't see the tree for the forest. Besides the non-rational perceptive functions Sensation and intuition which simply take in information and gather data, there are two rational functions, Thinking and Feeling. The rational functions prioritize, rank, sort out the data taken in. They hierarchize the information and make judgments on it. They come to closure on perceptions. These are the two judging functions whose work it is to come to conclusions about the data taken in. They are opposing ways of judging, and cannot proceed at the same time. At best they can be sequential.3 Thinking moves to conclusion from principles, logically attending to necessary connections and cause-effect relationships. Consistency and validity are important, and principles are applied objectively, "whether I like it or not." The value sought is "The True." Thinking has an a-temporal and un-contextualized time orientation. Feeling comes to conclusion by an associative process, by analogy, comparison, association. Harmony and suitability are important, and are judged from a more subjective stance. The value orientation is toward "The Good." Feeling has a past and traditional time orientation. One of these, either Thinking or Feeling, will be much preferred to the other for making judgments and coming to conclusions. It is important to note that we cannot use opposing functions at the same time. Sensing halts Intuiting; Intuiting halts Sensing. Thinking halts Feeling; Feeling halts Thinking. Neither can we perceive and judge at the same time. Judging halts perceiving; perceiving halts judging. Nor do we use all four functions with equal skill and confidence. Yet quality decisions are made only with the adequate contributions of all four functions. Indi- To See the Other Side. / 511 vidually and especially in groups, it is important to implement structures which assure the application of all four functions to any given issue. Since the natural autonomy, even antipathy, among the four functions precludes their being applied at the same time, they must be applied sequentially. A person will have an attitude toward the outside world that takes its cue from the judging functions (Thinking or Feeling) and will be called a Judging attitude, or he or she will have an attitude toward the outside world that takes its cue from the perceiving functions Sensation or iNtui- " tion) and will be called a Perceiving attitude. Note that both these attitudes, J and P, are toward the outside world. This attitude toward the outside world J or P is not to be confused with Extraversion or Introversion, which indicates the person's "preferred world." The preference for the world inside oneself--the world of ideas and thoughts and inner feeling is known as Introversion. Its opposite, a prefer-ence for the world outside oneself--the world of people, events, happen-ings, objects--is known as Extraversion. Both introverts and extraverts have an attitude, either J or P, toward the outside world. For a treatment of Extraversion and Introversion see Gifts Differing. A person's type is constituted in large part by his or her preference for one of the two perceiving functions, S or N, and one of the two judging functions, T or E The possibilities are: ST, SF, NT, NE One perceiving . function plus one judging function constitute the preferred functionality of the person. Of these two functions, however, one will be favored and preferred over the other. One will be the "boss" function, and the other the helper function. So an individual will be one of the following: ST, ST, SF, SF, NT, NT, NF, NF, where the underlined function is the "boss" or Dominant function and the other is the helper or Auxiliary function. The dominant function is the real rudder or kingpin of the psychological type. In "conflict of interest" cases, the dominant always gets its way. For an understanding of the Judging and Perceiving attitudes and the Extraverted and Introverted attitudes, which also throw much light on meeting dynamics, see some of the literature cited. There is a dangerous misunderstanding current concerning the Feeling function--"F"--among those who use the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator and the psychological matrix of C. G. Jung which undergirds it. It is widespread even among those who administer and teach the instrument. It is doubly dangerous because it leads to a misunderstanding of the correlate of Feeling, which is the Thinking function, "T." One frequently hears the (mistaken) pronouncements: "Feeling is interested in values, Thinking is interested in principles and logic." "Feeling is personal, Thinking is impersonal." Both of these statements are half- 512 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 truths, and therefore very dangerous and misleading. Let us analyze the Thinking and Feeling functions for a more accurate understanding than these too-easy assessments afford. To say that Feeling is interested in values and Thinking is interested in principles and logic is to compare apples and oranges, process and product. The value that attracts Feeling is "The Good." The value that attracts Thinking is "The True." The process used by Thinking is objective (in that sense impersonal) proceeding from principles, using logic and cause-and-effect relationships. The process of Feeling is a subjective (in that sense personal) associative process, a process of comparison, analogy, using per-sonal association and past experience. Neither Thinking nor Feeling in the first instance says anything about emotion. Emotion is the first register of value in the human person, whether that value is seen as coming under the aegis of "The Good," (Feeling), or as coming under the aegis of "The True" (Thinking). Both Thinking and Feeling according to Jung are rational functions. They both hierarchize, rank, come to closure, judge on the basis of the value that attracts them: The Good for Feeling and The True for Think-ing. Ideally, or one might say transcendentally, both The Good and The True are the same. But each person has a particular and delimited appreci-ation of that higher unity according as he or she judges by Thinking or by Feeling.4 An example may further help clarify and distinguish the Feeling func-tion from its first register of value, emotion. (The first register of value for the Thinking function is also emotion.) St. Thomas Aquinas addresses the question: "Whether Christ's mother remained a virgin after his birth?" (S.T. Ilia, Q.28, a.3) St. Thomas cites several well-known texts from Scripture that would indicate that Mary had other children after the birth of Jesus: Mt 1:18, 1:20, 1:24, Rm 8:29, Jn 2:12, Mt 27:55, Jn 19:25. He then puts together these last two texts to form an argument that Mary had other children after the birth of Jesus. Mt 27 says: "Many women were there [that is, by the cross of Christ] watching from a distance, the same women who had followed Jesus from Galilee and looked after him. Among them were Mary of Magdala, Mary the mother of James and Joseph, and the mother of Zebedee's sons." Thomas puts this together with the Jn 19 text: "There stood by the cross of Jesus, Mary his mother." It follows that if Mary the mother of Jesus who was standing by the cross and the Mary who was the mother of James and Joseph was the same Mary, then Mary had other children besides Jesus. St. Thomas takes care of the exegetical questions adroitly enough, so that Scripture is not gainsaid. The clinching reasons against Mary having other children after the birth of To See the Other Side. / 513 Jesus, however, are Feeling reasons, in the true sense of Feeling. He says it is unthinkable that Mary would have other children besides Jesus, because, ". as he [Jesus] is in his divine nature the only-begotten of the Father and his Son, perfect in every respect, so it was fitting that he should be the only-begotten of his mother, as being her perfect offspring." Another rea-son Thomas gives--a Feeling reason--is that it would make Mary seem ungrateful, not to be content with such a Son. Note that these are not the same kind of reasons given for Jesus not being the only child of Mary: If the Mary of Mt. 27 (mother of James and Joseph) Is the Mary of Jn 19 (the mother of Jesus) Then Jesus was not the only child of Mary. This is "T"--Thinking rationality. But ". as he was the only-begotten of His Father, so He was the only-begotten of His Mother" is not "T," Thinking rationality, it is "F," Feeling rationality. It is a reason from fittingness, appropriateness, seemliness; it is ~'becoming" that Jesus be the only child of Mary. This is the meaning of Feeling in the Jungian matrix and the Myers-Briggs. It is not emotion or feeling in the common parlance, but a judgment of fittingness, seemliness, becomingness. It is brought to bear after the Thinking judgment has done what it can with the data, not before Thinking or instead of Thinking. It is the ambit of "F," Feeling rationality, to historicize and contextual-ize the a-temporal judgment of "T," Thinking, but not replace it.5 Feeling needs to be fed and focused by the objectivity of Thinking. Otherwise one has inauthentic Feeling and a too subjective Feeling judgment. Thinking needs the completion of another rationality, one not necessitated by logic and cause-effect relationships, but personalized/subjectivized and opened out to a wider gestalt. Feeling, without the backbone of Thinking behind it, is purely subjec-tive, personal and, therefore, not interpersonal. It can indeed become emo-tion and not be a rationality of fittingness or suitability, but mere whim or fancy. This is what is meant by a "mood," which is not a personal expe-rience. The mood has the person rather than the person having the mood. It is the opening door to projections and confusion, especially in a group. Application to Meetings Equipped with this understanding of psychological functionality, let us reflect on the relatively unstructured or poorly structured meeting. The purpose of most group meetings is to come to some kind of consensus. That is why the meeting is held in the first place. Many come to a meeting assuming there is already a consensus on a given issue. This is 5111 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 often more counterproductive than assuming that there is not. A consensus is a delicate affair; it is a "con-sentire," a "feeling-together-with." An assumption either that there is a consensus on a given issue or that there is not, is vastly disruptive of the possibility of arriving at a consensus. Since a consensus is a delicate affair, it must be wooed, as a lover is wooed. One has to have the tact to know where to begin to discover what consensus is there already, and to raise it to the level of insight and usabil-ity. An attempt to "build a consensus" on a given issue is counterproduc-tive. Rather, one first discovers what consensus actually exists, and brings that to consciousness and articulation. Once that consensus is recognized and owned, the scene is set to pass on to a higher level of "con-sentire." The process of arriving at consensus is not a "building"; this has too much the connotation of hammer and nail, muscular effort to persuade, even coer-cion. Rather, the process of arriving at consensus is one of discovery and articulation. Once a group (meeting) articulates a true consensus, it has already passed beyond it, and it is ready for the next discovery, the new and higher level of consensus. It must be, however, the articulation of a true consen-sus. It must not be assumed. It must be articulated and all must agree to the lower level of consensus before attempting to arrive at a higher level. Perhaps this will come as a surprise, after saying how delicate is the matter of arriving at consensus, and that one should not assume that there is a consensus on a given issue. There is, however, always a consensus in a group! Perhaps not on a given issue, or on the level of consensus one would like, but there is always a consensus in a group. Otherwise the group would not be meeting. This is the key assumption that I am making. A moment's thought will indicate that if a group (not a "crowd" or a "gang") comes together, it is coming together for a purpose. Implicit in this broad purpose are concrete points of consensus and a desire for further consensus. There already exists the consensus that "we want" a "con-sentire'" if at all possible. There is the further shared hope that we can arrive at a consensus on some particular issues. There are many other points of concrete consensus in the group also. (Deficiency in these attitudes will indicate the highly controlling or manipulative person.) The place to start looking for consensus on pro-gram level issues is here, among the patterns of consensus that already are resident in the group. A group does not arrive at a consensus by building from the top down any more than a construction company builds a building from the top down. One starts from the bottom up. One begins at the bottom and works up. Whenever a group can articulate a consensus, it has already passed beyond it and is ready for the next level of insight and consensus. Once it To See the Other Side. / 515 has articulated and owned that next level of insight and consensus, it is ready for the next, and so on. Thus the group is moving toward its limit of consensus consciousness bit by bit--by articulating known levels of con-sensus and allowing the group to find its way to ever higher and more specific and programmatic levels of con-sentire. A functional, structural way to help a group move from a lower and perhaps largely unconscious level (myth level) of consensus to an ever higher level of programmatic consensus is to follow the natural order of perceiving, then judging. The schema herein suggested implicitly takes into account dominant and auxiliary functions and introverted and extraverted functions. Since coming to a consensus judgment implies a need to perceive in order to judge, there is a "natural" sequential order to arriving at quality decisions, whether personal or group decisions. Perceiving comes before judging. In attempting to unearth any resident consensus in the group and free it to move toward higher levels of programmatic consensus, the natural sequential dependence of the functions should be followed: S--N--T--F The group, just as an individual, will have a strong bias to spend time and energy in its Dominant and Auxiliary functions. It sometimes wants to wallow in its Dominant, without using even its Auxiliary, let alone using its non-preferred functions. It is here too that many religious groups with a preponderance of people with a preference for "F" rationality unwittingly thwart their own process of coming to consensus. Almost always they begin looking for consensus on the "F" level. This is to begin the process at its end-point! Each individual has a preference for one of the two perceiving func-tions (either Sensation or iNtuition), and one of the two judging functions Thinking or Feeling) already established in the Dominant and Auxiliary (with an inclination more toward perceiving or more toward judging). Most often, the importance of the other perceiving function and the other judging function is not recognized. Yet these less preferred functions are also necessary not only for quality decision making, but even for adequate decision making. Thus a person who is an NT will naturally prefer to do his perceiving by iNtuition and his judging by Thinking; but he needs the help of Sensate perception and Feeling judgment if his decisions are to be quality decisions, reflecting the objectivity and contextuality of sensate perception and feeling rationality. So with all the various preferences. 516 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 Both Sensate and intuitive perception are necessary for judging. Intui-tion depends on Sensate details, however slightly noted, for registering Intuitive connections and possibilities. The Sensate process may be less conscious, but the Sensate function is always at work recording sensate impressions. The Intuitive process may be less conscious, but the intuitive function is always registering connections and relations among sensate data perceived. Even when the Thinking function is not preferred or developed, the Thinking function first examines intuited connections and possibilities and determines inevitable cause-effect consequences. Whether carefully attended to or slight and unobserved, the Thinking function provides the Feeling function with an an.alysis of what has been perceived. The Feeling function receives what has been thus perceived and judged, and examines it in the light of contextual suitability. Whether carefully attended to or slight and unobserved, the Feeling function completes the judgment of present per-ceptions and present consequences in their historical context and in terms of the rationality of suitability, appropriateness, fittingness. Just as each individual has her profile and preferences, so a group has its profile and its preferences. The group profile is the sum and extrapola-tion of the profiles of the individuals who compose it.6 The disciplined group asks its members to first "S" it on a given issue, to use the Sensate function. Get the raw data. Get the concrete informa-tion. While doing this, those who naturally prefer "S" as their perceiving function are in their element, and the Intuitives are asked to stretch a bit, as the whole group strives .to assimilate the Sensate data. Once that task is accomplished, the Sensate data is handed over to intuitive perception to see the possibilities inherent in the data; to see the interconnections and implications and future potentialities. During this part of the group's task the iNtuitives will be in their element and the Sensates will be required to do the stretching now. But it is a temporary inconvenience for a permanent improvement; the group now knows "what it is talking about." The issue has been perceived with no prejudice as to function; all perceptions have been honored. We have moved thus in the natural sequence: S~N Now comes a big moment. It is time to hand over the matter perceived to judgment. Here the group must be very careful that it does not get into the final Feeling judgment. It is not yet asking the final question, the "go or no-go" decision. It is not asking yet "what will the traffic bear?" Or "should we do it or not?" It is asking for the Thinking judgment of the group to be applied. It is looking for inevitable consequences, cause-effect relation- To See the Other Side. / 517 ships, what are the necessities involved. Symbolically it can be represented like this: S--N--T Perceiving is finished, and the group is entering into the first stage of judgment, Thinking judgment. Now all are asked to "T" it--to use Think-ing judgment. Here those who naturally prefer Thinking judgment for coming to closure and conclusion are in their element, and those who prefer Feeling judgment are asked to stretch a bit. If this phase is neglected, even those who naturally prefer the Feeling function for their decision making will feel restless and insecure in their Feeling judgment. It will be almost intolerable for those who naturally prefer the Thinking function for their decision making if this phase is slighted; as intolerable for Thinkers as it would be for Feelers if no Feeling function were ever brought to bear. A Thinker might well be feeling: "I won't hurt your feeling if you don't hurt my thinking." That is, there are certain aspects of rationality that must be taken care of or the Thinker is "stuck"; he can't go forward. He cannot proceed to a "con-sentire,"a feeling-together-with, to a fruitful and con-textualized judgment of fittingness--the Feeling judgment. Having done its perceiving by both Sensation and intuition, and handed the matter thus perceived over to the first phase ofjudgment--"T" rationality, the group is now ready to pass on to the final and most difficult phase of consensus seeking, that of Feeling rationality. S--N--T--F In this phase the judgments of fittingness, suitability, appropriateness are in order--but not before this phase. This is the ". all things consid-ered, this is where I am" time. But a group should not be in that time unless it has passed through the previous three phases in sequence. This is in accord with what was said above--letting the group move upward from consensus to consensus from the lower to the higher "con-sentire." Note that moving according to the sequential dependence of the functions: S--N--T--F is following "the gradient of more difficult consensus." The easiest area to find consensus is in the sensate data. It is the area most open to "consensus consciousness." Sensate data is available to the five senses, is the most objective kind of perception and is least open to subjective and idiosyn-cratic interpretation. There is no judgment involved; it is simply reporting "the facts." Next in order of ease of arriving at consensus consciousness is 5111 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 still perception, but now iNtuitive perception. INtuitive perception takes in many things that "are not there" for Sensate perception--interconnections, relatedness, future possibilities--yet which can be assimilated by Sensation rather easily once they are pointed out. Now comes "the great divide." Moving into the area of judgment poses a new level of difficulty in coming to consensus consciousness. Though Thinking judgment, the fir~st phase of rational judgment, is more objective than Feeling judgment, it is still a quantum leap in trying to arrive at consensus here over against consensus in perception. Still, there are cause-effect relationships and necessary consequences, and a compelling logic to help find the consensus in this area of Thinking rationality. S--N--T The most difficult area for consensus consciousness to emerge is in the area of Feeling judgment. This is the most personal-subjective area of judgment--the judgments of fittingness, suitability, appropriateness-- "what I like"; "what I want." Still, a true suitability and appropriateness can unify and focus a group, especially if the prior phases of Sensate and iNtuitive perception and Thinking rationality have prepared the way. S--N--T--F The various levels of consensus, of con-sentire, are, again, not some kind of equality in emotional states, but an experience of union in the proper object of the function S or N or T or F. It may, further, be an experience of union in the transcendental concern of that function--The One, The Beautiful, The True, The Good. This latter was briefly treated in the Essay on The Constructive Use of Differences. Thus, to go against or violate the "gradient of more difficult consensus" is self-defeating. Many religious groups immediately jump in to the area of Feeling judgment in considering an issue, and try to begin the consensus seeking process at its end-point. They move directly against the gradient of consensus. They go against traffic on a one-way street, and leave all kinds of mayhem and injustice in their wake. If a group hopes to focus and harness the energies and commitment of its members in a consensus decision by a process that does justice to all, following the gradient of consensus, S -- N -- T ~ F will prove a graced and productive structure. Summary In this article 1 have tried to point out: 1) Religious groups that are composed mostly of people who prefer To See the Other Side. / 519 Feeling rationality to Thinking rationality should be especially careful to employ structures that invite the contribution of Thinking rationality to decision making. Truly unjust structures can ensue from this neglect. 2) Feeling judgment in the Jungian and MBTI matrices is not emotion or sentiment; it is a judgment of suitability or appropriateness, and has noetic reference. Emotion is the first register of value for both Thinking and Feeling. 3) Consensus is a "con-sentire," a "feeling-together-with." There is always a consensus in a convening group. This resident consensus is the place to start in seeking further consensus. By the process of articulating what consensus is present in the group, the group has already passed beyond that consensus and is moving toward a new and higher level of consensus. 4) Following the sequential dependence of the functions, the "gradient of more difficult consensus" S -- N -- T -- F is a graceful structure in group work, and its understanding and application can greatly help the attitudes and contributions of those involved. NOTES tOne thinks of course of projecting our own neglected psychic concerns on others, stereotyping, transferences, and so forth. These are always present, especially, but by no means exclusively, where men and women work together. 2See Isabel Briggs Myers, with Peter B. Myers, Gifts Differing, (Palo Alto: Consulting Psychologists Press, 1980); Isabel Briggs Myers, Introduction to Type, (Gainsville: Center for Applications of Psychological Type, 1980); George J. Schemel and James A. Borbely, Facing Your Type, (Wernersville: Typrofile Press, 1982); C.G. Jung, Psy-chological Type, vol. 6, Bolingen Series XX, (Princeton, Princeton University Press, 1971). 3"Rational judgment is based not merely on objective but also on subjective data. The predominance of one or the other factor, however, as a result of psychic disposition often existing from early youth, will give the judgment a corresponding bias. A judg-ment that is truly rational will appeal to the objective and the subjective factor equally and do justice to both. But that would be an ideal case and wouldpresuppose an equal development of both extraversion and introversion. In practice, however, either movement excludes the other, and, so long as this dilemma remains, they cannot exist side by side but at best successively. Under ordinary conditions, therefore, an ideal rationality is impossible." C. G. Jung, Psychological Types [644]. 4Noting the correspondence of the four transcendentals with the four functions is not Jung's observation, but my own. The One--Sensation; the Good--Feeling; the Beauti-ful- Intuition; the True--Thinking. See Facing Your Type, pp. 3 and 4. 5George J. Schemel and James A. Borbely, Facing Your Type, (Wernersville: Typrofile Press, 1982), pp. I l- 12. 6See Facing Your Type, pp. 17-20. Religious Charism: Definition, Rediscovery and Implications Jean Marie Renfro, S.S.S. This article is based on a talk given by Sister Renfro, of the Sisters of Social Service, at a regional meeting last fall of California's Catholic Conference (CCC), the CMSM and the LCWR. Sister Renfro may be addressed at her residence: 1120 Westchester Place; Los Angeles, California 90019. We are indebted to Paul of Tarsus for putting the word charism into our religious vocabularies. We are indebted to Paul VI for giving the expression a specific meaning for us as religious women and men.~ Although Paul the Apostle used the Greek charismata a number of times, and it was often translated into Latin as "gift" or "grace," the most striking use of the word is in his first letter to the Corinthians? The classic passage speaks of (a) the great variety of gifts, (b) which the Spirit gives, (c) each one different from the other, (d) each given for the common good, (e) each given for the building up of the Body of Christ. The apostle makes a key point: he is not speaking of the baptismal grace of the presence of the Holy Spirit which belongs to all baptized Christians, but of special gifts given people with special missions. The passage is not so much about gifts as it is about the Spirit who gives the charismata. That Spirit is the one whom Jesus describes as wind which blows where it will; that Spirit whom Luke says is like a dove, a bird which takes off and flies; that Spirit who in Acts is fire and in John is living water. Now wind, fire, water are hard to contain, hard to pin down. In speaking of religious charism the underlying, fundamental premise is that Religious Charism / 52"1 we are in the realm of that unpredictable Holy Spirit. Charism was not a commonly used word down the ages, but it did strike a chord in the hearts of the Fathers of the Second Vatican Council, who used it in the same sense as did the Apostle Paul. By choosing the expression a number of times, although never in relation to religious life, they made it quite clear that the special gifts of the Spirit are not restricted to the apostolic community. Having defined the Church as the People of God, Lumen Gentium points out that there are special graces of the Spirit ("apart from the sacraments and the ministrations of the Church") which are distributed "among the faithful of every rank," gifts which make the people "fit and ready to undertake the renewal, and whether these charisms be very remarkable or more simple and widely diffused., they are fitting and useful for the needs of the Church." At the end of the passage bishops are charged with judging the genuineness and proper use of these charisms and at the same time they are reminded that their office is not to extinguish the Spirit.3 The renewal of the Church then, while under the guidance of the bishops, is truly the work of God the Holy Spirit. Religious Charisms Now if charisms are given "to the faithful of every rank," it follows that religious must also receive the Spirit's special grace. In November 1964 that seemed an obvious enough statement and it caught no one's attention. Neither Lumen Gentium's Chapter VI on religious, nor Perfectae Caritatis (October 1965) specifically used the word charism in relation to religious life; however, the concept of charism, of special gifts given for the development of religious life, was not new. For centuries there had been a common belief that the founding persons of religious communities were the recipients of special grace. The Jesuit, Jerome Nadal, writing in 1554 said: When God wants to help his Church, he first raises up a person and gives him or her a special grace and impulse under which he or she may serve God in a particular manner. This is what he did in the case of St. Francis: God gave him a particular grace for his personal growth as well as for his companions . In the same way he raised up Ignatius and granted him a grace, and through him to us . ,,4 For a millennium, pope after pope had commented on the unique gifts given to this founder, and (after a few centuries) to that foundress. This concept, together with the direction the council documents had taken, surely paved the way for the expression used by Paul VI in his Apostolic Exhortation, Evangelica Testificatio, On the Renewal of Religious Life. The Pope said that religious who wish to be faithful to the teaching of the council are those who, seeking God before all else, combine contempla- 522 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 tion with apostolic love. He continued: "By the former they cling to God in mind and heart; by the latter they strive to associate themselves with the work of redemption and to spread the kingdom of God. Only in this way you will be able to reawaken hearts to truth and to divine love in accordance with the charism of your founders, who were raised up by God within his Church."5 (Emphasis mine) The expression has been used again and again in subsequent papal docu-ments. Evangelica Testificatio was dated June 29, 1971, and countless communities were already well into the work of renewal. To understand what that phrase, "charism of your founders," meant and has come to mean to us, it is necessary to look for a moment at religious life in the 50s. The Leveling of Religious Life for Women The following observations may not apply to men's communities. They flow from my own experience of two dozen women's communities with whom I worked closely and sometimes stayed between 1953 and 1968. If anything can be said of religious women when the council began, it must be that we were faithful. We were faithful to the Church, to the pope, to our foundresses, to our constitutions, and to our communities. We meticulously kept the rule, performed our apostolates, learned to walk, to write, to speak and to dress exactly as Mother Mary Someone did one hundred, or perhaps two hundred years before somewhere in Europe. We kept her customs to perfection, whether or not they made any sense in our culture, because we believed that was what God and the Church asked of us. Consider one example among many. Visualize a group of healthy American women, some with Ph.D.s, sitting at table in silence, passing around a pan of suds to wash their dishes. No wonder we were the quaint little nuns! We reverenced everything about our lives. And everything had equal value. The special gifts which the Spirit gave the foundress were on a par with how people in her culture peeled potatoes. We were equally careful about both. Everything was leveled. Our special charism, our uniqueness, our gifts from the Holy Spirit were lost in a sea of trivia. We could have invented Trivial Pursuit. Nor was that totally our fault. In a sense the whole Church behaved in that way. We were taught to give the same credence to the teaching on Limbo and the doctrine of Resurrection. Recently I had an experience which let me see in an instant how communities lost sight of their charisms. I went to Sequoia National Park on a field trip with a geographer, who on the way up pointed out character-istics of various trees to be found in the forest we would visit. He described the giant sequoias, the biggest, the oldest trees in the world. Trees which live for two thousand years, but trees with a very shallow root system, Religious Charism having roots which extend from the trunk for yards, but always very near the surface. Because of this shallowness the sequoia needs a fire from time to time to clear the surface brush so that its roots can get the necessary nutrients. The tree itself is protected from fire by a very heavy bark with a high content of tanic acid. The sequoia is totally different from the juniper, which has an extremely long tap root, quite capable of making its way through granite, thus allowing the juniper to live on the edge of a precipice, to survive comfortably where the sequoia would never take root. Each tree has a wholeness in itself, its own beauty, its own reflection of the creative magnitude of God. I had been thinking about charism for a long time and the parallel was obvious. A few hours later I was walking in the forest, caught up in its lavish-ness. For a moment I was alone, in silence and in awe, when the silence was broken by a voice coming from the trail below me. Someone said, "Oh, sequoias, junipers, cedars--to me they are all just trees!" In an instant that person had leveled the wonders of that forest to just trees. Gone the marvelous integrity of each species. They were all just trees. That is what happened to women's communities before the Council called us to search for our own charism. We were all leveled to be just "the sisters." First everything in our lives was of equal importance, and secondly, we might as well have been one gigantic community. We knew we were different from one another and meant by God to be different, but it was an intuitive kind of knowl.edge, with not much to support it. To the rest of the world we were distinguished from one another only by some aspect of our dress. (And when we started studying the Gospels we found that the only group distinguished by its clothing had broad phylacteries and long tassels.) Frequently we did not even have a name. People, including our clerical brothers, simply said, "Sister," and we replied. Canon law leveled us still further, qqaere were pages and pages of canons that required communities of women to do things in a uniform way. Communities founded in the twentieth century ended up with virtually the same constitution as all the others, with only a paragraph, or at best a page which pertained to itself alone. I once indexed our constitution and was astounded that a Society called Sisters of Social Service had only one reference to social welfare. One final word about the leveling process. The Vatican Council, in telling us to find our own integrity, our own identity, called a sudden, sharp halt to the leveling, at least for a time. But it does continue. People find it easier to deal with, or perhaps to dismiss, the quaint little nun in her medieval garb than they do with many of today's religious women. We have educated ourselves about our charisms and their implications, but we 594 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 have not educated others. Having gone through much to discover and attempt to be faithful to our own charisms, it is painful to have people-- sometimes those who should understand--seemingly seek to level us again. For example, while I greatly admire Teresa of Calcutta, it is problematic to see her work and her way of life held up as the ideal for our day. It is the leveling process at work again; we do not all have the same charism. The Call to Renew In 1962, when the Holy Spirit and John XXIII convoked the Council, most of that amorphous mass called "the sisters," absolutely dedicated to faithfulness to the Church, were quite ready to do as we were asked--to undertake an interior renewal and to make exterior adaptations suitable to our own time. No one .yet spoke of "charism" as the Council Fathers presented us with the now famous steps to renewal. First, since the "final norm of religious life is the following of Christ as it is put before us in the Gospel, this must be taken as its supreme rule by all institutes." In other words, we were told to go back to Scripture and make it, like the Eucharist, our daily bread. Secondly, the Council Fathers were at pains to point out in several passages that there is a "wonderful variety of religious communi-ties," and that variety needed to be reemphasized. To bring about renewal we were to seek the authentic spirit of our individual founding persons, but what exactly did that mean, and how were we to go about it? Finally, since the whole Church had to learn to read and respond to the signs of the times, certainly we did, too. But how were we to adapt our lives to the changed conditions without destroying ourselves, since we saw our lives as a seamless garment. Entering into the work renewal asked of us, sparked a variety of responses in the early days. Some said we do not need to renew; we have never departed from the vision and way of life of our founder. Some women's communities, desirous of becoming fully competent in ministry, were already into Sister Formation, and were hungry for what renewal promised. We were at various stages of our journey when in 1971, Paul VI, in Evangelica Testificatio, spoke of the charism of your founders. The expression was noticed immediately because it shed great light on our search for the authentic spirit of the founder, for ''the primitive inspira-tion of the institute." By definition, charism is gift from the Spirit, generally for the good of others, but sometimes a personal gift as well. Charismata, if accepted and freely given back to the People of God, build up the Church. The concept of "charism of the founder" narrowed the focus of our search from the founder's whole way of life to how God worked in him. It led us to concentrate on the way the Spirit gifted the foundress, rather than on the Religious Charism / 525 accidents of her culture. To be told by the Church that the cultural mores of another age were not essential to our vocation was at once startling and freeing. Never again could everything about our life be valued equally. It now became urgent that we rediscover our unique identity, that we sort out the charism from the cultural traditions. Simultaneously we searched the past and the present. I suspect many communities shared the experience of my own community, the Sisters of Social Work. It seemed perfectly evident that if there is such a thing as a community charism, then it must somehow be lived by us, its members. We looked around and we were/are all so different. We asked what do we hold in common? What we shared was so obvious that we missed it at first. We did not know that we knew who we are. We did know that we were founded by women already working to alleviate and prevent social evils, and we knew we would die out if we ever ceased to fight contemporary social problems. We knew that since we often work alone on uncharted paths our ministry demanded an attentiveness to the Spirit. We knew that we were not Benedictine sisters, yet our spirit is powerfully influenced by the Benedictine tradition. We knew we were not Religious as such, but rather members of a Society of Common Life (now "Apostolic Life"). Different as we were, we shared these elements with each other; gradually we realized they came from our foundresses and define us. The late 70s were a time when many communities, struggling to find their true identity, finally understood that they did know their own unique essence, that they did know more of their own integrity than they could easily verbalize. But first many questions had to be answered. Charism and the Gospel One of the first questions with which we had to come to grips was how the Gospel, now the supreme rule of our lives, related to our charism. Some of us, overwhelmed with a new reading of the Word of God, asked why do we need anything more than the Gospel? Is not everything necessary for renewal right there? It was an honest question, for indeed it is all there. But everything needed for a holy life in any lifestyle is there. The G0spel points the way for all invited to Christian baptism, not just for religious. Then it became clear. No one person, no one community could manifest all the attributes of the Lord. Each religious family reflects a particular aspect, or a particular combination of aspects of the Gospel. Margaret Slachta, the foundress of the Sisters of Social Service, some fifty years ago, spoke of the concept of charism, although she did not name it as such. She said: God has all perfection. It's as if the perfections of God are a great globe 526 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 and religious communities are a thousand mirrors reflecting one or other of the divine attributes. The Franciscans reflect the spirit of poverty to a world always attracted to riches. The Dominicans reflect truth to a world ever flirting with error, while we reflect the sanctifying love of God to a world which does not know the Spirit.6 All of us need the Gospel as the final measuring rod of our lives, but each community needs its own special gift or specific combination of Gospel attributes or gifts from the Spirit to give it its own identity. The Founding Charism A unique gift or combination of gifts was originally the special charism of our founding mothers or fathers. That raised many questions which needed answers.7 What aspects of the Gospel were especially attractive to our founder? What ignited a flame in the heart of our foundress? What combination of Christian characteristics makes this religious family different from that one? These questions sent us scurrying back to our earliest documents, back through legend and history to the flesh-and-blood men and women through whom God gave us life. To clearly describe our founding charism it was necessary to go back to the founding person's historic life, necessary to learn the culture, the social and political situation in which the founder awoke to a personal call from God. It was necessary to see how the foundress responded to the signs of her times. We searched our primary sources with new eyes as we sought to find how the Spirit of God was manifested to our founding persons. What was the conversion experience from which there was no turning back? Was it in a cave like Subiaco or Manresa, or as with the foundress of my community, after coming home from a colorful, exciting ball in a luxurious salon in Budapest? How was the challenge met? How did the person read the message? What did Benedict or Francis or Dominic or Ignatius or John Bosco intend as they gathered disciples, as they structured a way of life which would allow their disciples to experience God as they had? What was the intent of Angela Merici, Louise de Marillac, Catherine McCauley, Elizabeth Seton, Frances Cabrini, or Margaret Slachta as they found like-minded women and began to pray with them, began to prepare them to attack some grave need felt by the People of God? We found life-giving answers to our questions. We discovered the why our founders did what they did, and the how was no longer so important. Most of their customs were the ordinary customs of their day. Take clothing for example. Many founding persons, both women and men, in many different centuries and different places wore the oridinary clothing of the poor or of the common people of their time. What they wore was the least Religious Charism / 527 of their concerns. Of course the "why" and the "hows" of the past brought us up sharply to the present and another set of questions. How does the present moment relate to what the founder was all about? In our great faithfulness to the foundress, to her customs and her way of doing things, did we lose sight of her vision? What would the founder do if called by God to begin the community now, today? Which of the foundress' gifts are being incarnated in the members of the community today? We have become very aware that the heart of the charism given our founding person must be enfleshed in our time or we have no deep ties with our roots. In our communities we are very conscious of our diversity, of the richness of personality of our members. Each of us comes with valued and often unique gifts from the Spirit which become the treasure of the whole community, yet we are also aware that we share, and in a radical way, the attraction, the charism of our founding person. Personal Charism of the Founder/Foundress Most communities discovered that the charism of the founding person was somewhat different from the charism of the community itself. Some gifts of the Spirit were for the foundress alone, some aspects of the founder's charism necessary only to the work of foundation, some strengths needed to give life to the new group in its formative years. In seeking out our own individual roots many of us became very conscious that the founder's specific time in history was so unlike our own, that the foundress brought the community to life often out of a specific need of her culture which does not exist in our technological age. Again it became evident that customs, manner of responding to need, which were a part of the initial environment in which the community was created, may have been a part of the personal charism of the foundress, but were not a part of the community's charism. If the charism is at the heart of the community's identity then the charism must transcend both the time and the culture in which the community was founded. Elements of Religious Charism The charism of a religious community is that gift or combination of gifts which God the Holy Spirit gave to the founding person so that the community might come into existence in the first place. The gifts reflect certain attributes of God, or in more contemporary language, aspects of the Gospel which the founding person lived out in her or his life. The gifts were given for the common good, to build the Body of Christ in the time in which they were first manifested. This gift, or special combination of girls, 5211 / Review for Religious, July-August, 1986 is not limited by time or culture and is found in, and is enfleshed by, the present-day followers of the founding person, enabling them to live his or her vision in our own time. The charism gives the community its basic identity, provides it with its own wholeness, gives it its own unique meaning within the total family of religious institutes. Because the charism is the gift of the Spirit, its expression is never static, it can lead a group in unpredict-able ways, and as the bishops were told in Mutuae Relationes, Mutual Relations Between Bishops and Religious, sometimes it can be quite trouble-some to deal with.8 Founders, foundresses and their religious communities have generally discovered that following one's charism usually involves a risk, always a challenge, and not infrequently, misunderstanding. As initially the primitive charism did not bring riches, honor, power, neither does its rediscovery. Charism and Daily Life If we want a wholeness about our lives, consciously or unconsciously we take our charism into consideration in all that we do. Formation personnel should be very clear about the community's charism, should test candidates precisely in the area of the charism. In the matter of the vows which the new members will take, we profess the evangelical counsels within the context of a particular religious family with its own particular charism. We understand our vows and live out our vocation as the com-munity understan

Issue 41.6 of the Review for Religious, November/December 1982. ; A Pope for Religious Advent: Not Ours But God's Religious in Politics Volume 41 Number 6 Nov./Dec., 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 REt.IGIOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO: © 1982 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOOS. 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 RELIGIOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Daniel T. Costello, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Book Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor Nov./Dec., 1982 Volume 41 Number 6 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's University; City Avenue at 54th St.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A Pope for Religious: John Paul II on the Consecrated Life Barbara Albrecht This article is the Introduction to the book of homilies, addresses and writings edited by Dr. Albrecht: Johannes Paul II: Gottgeweihtes Leben (Vallendar-SchiSnstatt: Patris Verlag, 1982). pp. 336. It was translated by Sister M. Ingeborg, O.S.F.; St. Francis Novitiate; 2120 Central Avenue: Alton, IL 62002. His special messages and conferences, the many addresses to religious in Rome and during his pastoral travels show us in John Paul II a pope who is truly a friend who genuinely treasures religious communities. John Paul 1I has a very special sensitivity for the specific charism of each community, for its singular importance .in the life of the Church as a whole. The religious vocation belongs to that "spiritual fullness which the Spirit himself--the Spirit of Christ--brings forth,and molds in the People of God. Without religious orders, without 'consecrated' life, by means of its vows of chastity, poverty and obedience, the Church would not be fully herself."l The pope, himself a strong spiritual leader, forcefully reminds us of the priori-ties of religious life. He accentuates, warns of dangers, challenges--and all this as one who, with inner strength and clarity, tries to live out the mission of his office, fully aware of his responsibility before its Lord t:or the Church in our time. A survey of the highlights of John Paul's teaching makes for an effective summary of a practical theology of religious life. Call to Religious Life The interplay of the divine free call and the human freeyes to that call in a life ~To Superiors General of Men, Rome, November 24, 1978. L'Osservatore Romano. December 7, 1978, p. 3. All citations are from L'Osservatore Romano. and will be indicated by date of issue and page (English Edition). 801 1~02 / Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1982 consecrated to the Triune God is a mystery which e.merges out of the "creative initiative of God" and his loving providence over each individual.2 The call to religious life, then, is not first of all a duty, but a gift, "an immense and gratuitous gift from God."3 It is the basis for continuous thanksgiving and deep joy and, yes, for wonder! This is the ever-new wonder: "Whoever takes up the risk of following a religious vocationTM gains, "through the sweet breath of the Holy Spirit in his frail human reality a real form." At the same time, John Paul is caught by the "strength which, consolidating us in love, incorporates our existence with the work of God, with his plan of re-creating man in Christ, that is, the formation of his new redeemed family."~ This Christian calling is not for the individual alone. On the contrary, it is always an offer of love and of salvation for all. This is the fact that gives to each one who is called a responsibility for others through the witness of his life and of his service.6 A vocation to religious life is a mystery of love-as-dialogue because "we respond lovingly to the initiative of love," as the pope told seminarians and candidates for religious life in Porto Alegre.7 Our yes, given in love, is a matter of our faith in the faithful God, the faith with which the individual firmly grounds himself in God who calls. And simultaneously ouryes is the greatest expression of our freedom. This loving, free answer of ours is expressed in the threefold vows of the evangelical counsels. John Paul told reli-gious men in Chicago: No matter what others may contend or the world may believe, your promises to observe the evangelical counsels have not shackled your freedom. You are not less free because you are obedient, and you are not less loving because of your celibacy. On the contrary: The faithful practice of the evangelical counsels accentuates your human dignity, liberates' the human heart . But this freedom of an individed heart (see I Co 7:23-35) must be maintained by continual vigilance and fervent prayer.8 This vigilance refers especially to the authenticity of our life of the evangelical counsels. One important aspect of this authenticity is the art with which conse-crated men and women give their total love to God and, at the same time, meet their brothers and sisters--freely and effortlessly. The pope expressed this to women religious in Paris: May your vow of consecrated virginity impel you to join in actual fact with your brothers and sisters in humanity, in the concrete situations in which they find themselves! So many people of our world are, as it were, lost, crushed, without hope! Being mindful of the norms of prudence, make them feel that you love them in the manner of Christ, drawing from his heart 2To Those Called to the Priesthood and Religious Life and Their Directors, Porto Alegre, July 5. 1980. July 28, 1980. p. 6. ~To the Union of Superiors General of Won~en, Rome, November 14. 1979. November 26, 1979, p. 8. 4To Women Religious, Paris. May 31, 1980. June 9, 1980, p. 7. ~To Seminarians at the Major Seminary inGuadalajara, January 30, 1979. February 19, 1979, p. 4. 6To Women Religious, Paris, May 31, 1980. June 9, 1980, p. 7 7Lot. tit,. p. 6. ¯ 8To Religious Men. Chicago, October 4, 1979. October 29, 1979. p. 5 A Pope for Religious / 1103 the human and divine tenderness that he bears them. You also promised Christ to be poor with him and like him. Certainly our society of production and consumption raises complex problems for the practice of evangelical poverty. This is not the place or the time to discuss them. It seems to me that every congregation must see in this economic phenomenon a providential invitation to give an answer, at once tradi-tional and new. to Christ in his poverty? Poverty must, however, be genuinely evangelical in order to be able to recognize Christ in the "humblest." It is necessary to be able to identify oneself with one's brother in need by being "poor in spirit"(see Mt 5:3). Now this calls for simplicity and humility, love of peace, freedom from dissipative commitments or attachments, an inclination toward total abnegation that is free and obedient, spontaneous and constant, gentle'and strong in the certainties of faith.~° The Gospel meaning of poverty cannot be reduced to its material aspect alone. We have a plethora of possibility today to live it in ever new ways. To recognize such possibility in the Holy Spirit and to act on this understanding--this is the imitation of Jesus Christ, and, at the same time, a real service to our society. "All religious have the responsibility of reintroducing into society, with univocal wit-ness through the conversion of heart and of life-style, the values of real poverty, simplicity of life, fraternal love, and generous sharing."~ The Holy Father deliber-ately ended the fifteenth centenary of St. Benedict, and began the eighth centenary of St. Francis' birth under this heading of poverty. Finally, obedience is "the resolute and constant aspiration to conform our own will to that of God."t2 Religious obedience is certainly the sharpest of the three gold nails which attach [his] imitators to the will of Jesus Christ. Is it possible to look at the cross of the Lord Jesus without conforming to his mystery of obedience to the Father?t3 This question is addressed to all religious. The Holy Father pointed out very clearly that such obedience will find expression in our dependence on human superiors. There is yet another aspect of the consecrated life to which the Holy Father often turned. Such a life, consecrated to the eternal God, of its very essence has a great deal to do with perseverance. In Altftting, he reminded thousands of religious: Believing in the faithfulness of the One who calls and in the power of his Spirit, you put yourselves at God's disposal through the vows of poverty, consecrated virginity, and obedi-ence, and this not as an "obligation which can be revoked," not as a "life in a monastery for a time," not as co-workers in a group that has come together fora specific task and which breaks up again at will. No, in faith you have spoken a yes which is all-inclusive and forever, which finds its expression in your way of life and even in your religious garb. In our time, when people shy away from binding ties, when many would like to turn to a life of"testing," it 9Lot. cir. p. 7. t0To Religious Women, S~o Paulo, July 3, 1980. July 21, "1980, p. 3. ~Homily at St. Paul Outside the Walls. Mar~h 21, 1981. March 30. 1981, "p. 2. ~2To Religious Women of the Umbriah Dioceses. March 23, 1980. March 31, 1980, p. 9. ~3To the Daughters of Charity; January I I, 1980. February 4. 1980, p. 7. 8~ ] Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1982 belongs to you to testify that one can dare to enter into a definitive bond, to make a decision for God which embraces one's whole life, which makes you free and happy if it is renewed day after day.t4 Persons who give this kind of joyful witness "make the religious vocation in the Church to be something attractive."~5 They are the "best advertisement" for reli-gious vocations. It is self-understood that first of all we have to pray for vocations. But young people should also be enthusiastically invited to this way of following Christ in our pastoral work among the young.~6. Yes, the pope calls upon bishops and priests to become interested on a per-sonal level in religious vocations--just as he did himself when he was bishop in Krakow, and on the occasions of his pastoral journeys later when he became pope. At every opportunity he repeats: Go among the young! Meet them personally and call them. The hearts of the young and those not so young anymore are ready to listen to you. Many are searching for a goal in their lives. They are concerned about discovering a worthwhile mission in life to which they can dedicate themselves. Christ has prepared them for his call and your call. We have to call! The Lord will do the rest. His fundamental suggestion is: "Nothing without God--but nothing also without us!" This very old Catholic truth becomes truly concrete when it is applied to vocations to the consecrated life. The Charism of the Founder At a time when the younger generation appears to have lost any sense for tradition and history (which is one reason for the phenomenon of internal crisis in the Church) it is evident that the pope intends to give clear reminders to religious of their origins. The beginnings of the many orders and religious communities in which indi-viduals today live out their consecrated lives are not at all like musty archives, but like lively fountains, vital fires, lives lived in obedience to the Holy Spirit, lives in which the founders and foundresses, responding to their call from God, accepted and carried out their missions under the most trying of circumstances. At the start of each congregation stands some prophetic figure, one who was seized by a special mission, endowed with a special charism: Each of your founders, under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit promised by Christ to the Church, was a man who possessed a particular charism. Christ had in him an exceptional ~instrument" for his work of salvation which, especially in this way, is perpetuated in the history of the human family. The Church has gradually assumed these charisms, evaluated them, and, when she found them authentic, thanked the Lord for them and tried to "put them in a safe place" in the life of the community so that they could always yield fruit)7 Therefore it is the expressed desire of the pope that those who are called to a ~4Homily to Religious, November 18, 1980. December 15, 1980, p. I I. ~To Religious Men, Manila Cathedral, February 17, 1981. February 23, 1981, p. 6. ~6To Bishops of Latin America, Puebla, January 28, 1979. February 5, 1979,~ p. 5. ~TTo Superiors General of Men, Rome, November 24, 1978. December 7, 1978. p. 3. A Pope for Religious consecrated life in community, especially contemplatives, will study more and more deeply, in order to live it more and more intensely, the spirituality of their founders, without letting themselves be tempted by more fashionable methods or tech-niques, the inspiration of which has often little to do with the Gospel. The contemplative and mystical heritage of the Church is exceptionally vast and deep. It is necessary, therefore, to take care that all monasteries will undertake to get to know it, cultivate it, and teach But more than a few religious communities today have forgotten their beginnings. They do not know the specific spirituality and the mission on the basis of which the founding generation took its start. It is no wonder that this leads to a leveling among them, to the loss 6f the spiritual lineaments not only of the specific community but of the entire Church. In truth, it is not surrender to compromise~9 and a leveling process, but a distinctive portrait, not uniformity but a pluralism of charisms that makes for the beauty of the Church. Therefore the pope exhorts: Let every spiritual family watch over its particular identity in view of the good of the whole Church. What is done in one place is not necessarily to be imitated elsewhere.2° The Church needs a clear difference (and not a confusion) and the valid complementarity (and not isolation) of charisms and vocations . The spiritual richness of the Church and of her service to men lies in variety.2~ It is precisely this that presents to the searching Christian youth of today the chance for each one to find his way to follow his call and mission according to God's plan. Only in faithfulness to Christ and to the charism of each founder or foundress will this variety be safeguarded. And only in this faithfulness will be found the key that opens and secures the effectiveness of each order. The Witness of Being Anyone who reads the remarks of the Holy Father with an open mind will perceive his appreciation for the varied activity 0f religious in the apostolate, whether new or old. We could not find a warmer expression of papal approval of service to the poor and sick than in John Paul's letter marking the four-hundredth birthday of St. Vincent de Paul, or more encouraging words about the catechetical and pastoral service of religious women than those he spoke in Kinshasa/Zaire. But all apostolic work would be in vain if it were not founded on a strong spiritual life. What the Holy Father had said to priests and religious in Maynooth, he repeated to the superiors general in Rome, again to the plenary session of the Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes. and, finally, to monks at Saint Paul's: Your first apostolic duty is your own sanctification. No change in religious life has any importance unless it be also the conversion of yourself to Christ. No movement in religious life has any importance unless it be also a movement inwards to the "still center" of your ~STo Plenary Session of the Sacred Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes, Rome, March 7. 1980. March 24, 1980, p. 4. ~gTo Religious Women, Rome. November 10. 1978. November 23, 1978, p. 10. -'°To the Carmelites of Lisieux. June 2, 1980. June 23, 1980, p. 14. 2~To Religious Men. S~o Paulo. July 3, 1980. July 21. 1980, p. 7. 1106 / Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1982 existence, where Christ is. It is not what you do that matters most but what you are.:'- It would totally misrepresent his words to interpret this primacy of being and of personal sanctification as some kind of ego-centered salvation. The Holy Father does not want religious to become turned in on themselves, centered around their own egos. But he is concerned "that Jesus must always be first.''-3 He is concerned about their witness "to the primacy of God,"~4 about the credibility of the lives of those who have received the "gift" of a special call in the imitation of Christ.25 This call is something that "deserves, but also costs, the response of our whole being."~6 "A vocation is, therefore, a mystery that man accepts and lives in the depth of his being.''~7 "The Epiphany, the appearance of our Lord, which you love to celebrate here, depends on you!" he told religious women in Africa.28 This summons should be an imperative for us all, " so that the world may believe." Prayer and Contemplation Again and again the Holy Father affirms the absolute necessity of the vertical, contemplative dimension of religious life, and this not just for monastic-contem-plative religious, but for active apostolic communities: daily meditation on the Word of God, personal and communal prayer, gratitude and praise of God, add the petition for the "freedom of an undivided heart."~9 The Holy Father is, of course, aware of the tension between prayer and work. He knows that "a constant danger for apostolic workers is to become so much involved in their own work for the Lord as to forget the Lord of all work."3° But there is another danger in our world today. Through the very s~ams of convent walls seeps "the temptation to activism and distraction that the modern consumer society brings in its train, with all its materialistic overtones.TM Because of this, the Holy Father reminds religious of the absolute necessity of silence in every form of religious life. This element of the spiritual life "calls for areas of actual silence and personal discipline in order to facilitate contact with God."32 What is true for the individual is equally applicable to religious houses: Religious houses must be, above all. oases of prayer and meditation, places of personal and community dialogue with him who is and must remain the first and principal interlocutor of -'-'To Priests, Missionaries. Religious Brothers and Sisters. Maynooth, October I. 1979. October. 15. 1979. p. 6. -'3To Religious Women, Washington. October 7, 1979. November 5, 1979. p. 3. ~4To the International Union of Mothers General, Rome, November 16, 1978. November 30, 1978, p. 3. ~Porto Alegr¢, Ioc. cir. p. 6. 2~To Enclosed Nuns, Guadalajara. January 30, 1979. February 12. 1979. p. 8. ~TPorto AIcgre, Ioc. cit. p. 6. -'SKinshasha, May 3, 1980. May 19, 1980. p. 3. -'~To Religious Men, Chicago, Ioc cit. p. 5. ¯ ~°To Plenary Session of the Sacred Congregation, Ioc. cir. p. 3. 3~To Religious Women, Nagasaki, February 26, 1981. March 9, p. 18. ¯ ~-'To Plenary Session of the Sacred Congregation, Ioc. cir., p. 3. A Pope for Religious 807 their days, so full of work. Superiors must not be afraid, therefore, of often reminding their confreres that a pause of real worship is more fruitful and rich than any other activity even if intense and of an apostolic characterP3 Every generous service to men draws possibilities and impetus precisely from this prayerP4 Mere human kindness will not be enough. People have to feel that through you someone else is at work. To the extent that you live your total consecration to the Lord, you communi-cate something of him, and, ultimately, it is he for whom the human heart is longing.-~ In this connection it is to be observed how deep are the bonds which link the Holy Father to the contemplative branch of religious life. He hardly gives any talk in which he does not mention its importance for the Church and the world of today. What he tells the sisters in Lisieux holds true for all: Take up the challenge of the modern world and of the world of always, by living more radically than ever the very mystery of your quite original state, which is folly in the eyes of the world and wisdom in the Holy Spirit: exclusive love of the Lord and of all your human brothers in him. Do not seek to justify yourselves! All love, provided it is authentic, pure and disinterested, bears in itself its own justification. To love gratuitously is an inalienable right of the person even--and one should say above all--when the Beloved is God himself. In the footsteps of contemplatives and mystics of all times, continue to bear witness with power and humility to the transcendent dimension of the human person, created in the likeness of God and called to a life of intimacy with him.J6 Demands of the Apostolate The spiritual demands underlying all the apostolates of one who is called to the consecrated life have already been discussed, as has been the symbiosis of prayer and work. The Holy Father tells women religious in Baclaran that this demands, very concretely, ¯. in the taxing routine of your apostolic tasks [that you] always make sure that you devote periods of each day to personal and community prayers. These times of prayer must be carefully guarded and suitably prolonged, and you must not hesitate to supplement them by periods of more intense recollection and prayer, at times especially set aside for this purpose. You must always insure that the mutual center of your communities is the Eucharist: you will accomplish this by your fervent daily participation in the Mass, and by community prayer in an oratory where the eucharistic presence of Christ expresses and realizes what must be the principle mission of every religious family.37 Another directive to ffhich the Holy Father gives voice in forceful language has to do with the quality of apostolic work, especially in regard to its theological, spiritual, human and professional aspects, and always is this to be pursued in brotherly or sisterly solidarity: Help one another, among religious houses, among congregations, to organize times and ~Ibid. ~To Union of Superiors General of Men, Rome, November ~26. 1979. December 24, 1979, p. 5. 3~To Religious. Altrtting, November 18, 1980. December 15, 1980, p. 12. ~'To the Carmelites of Lisieux, Ioc. cir., p. 14. aTBaclaran, February 17, 1981. February 23, 1981, p. 5. 808 / Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1982 places of silence and meditation, in order to benefit from sessions of spirituality, theology, and ministry. Encourage one another to take part in them. Contribute by mutual aid to cover the expenses caused by these retreats and sessions. Your love for one another should be clearly seen. Because you are religious today, it is indispensable, even if you are contemplatives, to watch over your human formation, to sufficiently know the life and the problems of people today, especially if you have the mission of proclaiming the Gospel to them. Young people and adults are sensitive to the humanity of those who have "given everything to gain every-thing" to follow Christ.38 "Your professional competence is equally a very important factor and you will have to take it very seriously and keep it up-to-date. Also in this regard a symbiosis is necessary." Thus did the Holy Father speak to the General Chapter of the Hospital Order of St. John of God. "Only a professional, a purely human relation-ship, even with the sick, runs the risk of drying up for lack of roots and deep motivations. But if your work is not filtered through faith, it is always in danger of becoming materialized and of losing even the human elements."39 Only with the help of a deep inner saturation with prayer, faith, and professional competence can the work of religious be transformed into a true apostolate. In this connection the Holy Father makes frequent mention of that particular group of consecrated religious who are of special importance for every apostolate: How could I forget the sick sisters, and those who are infirm and old? Throughout the day and often at night, when sleep is difficult, they present to the Lord the silent offering of their almost uninterrupted prayers, their physical or moral sufferings, their "fiat" to the divine Will. They, too, are the priestly people that Christ won with his blood on the Cross. With him they save the world.4° Therefore all the members of the community should give them special, grate-ful, and loving attention. The Holy Father offers yet another direction for the right understanding of the religious apostolate, one which is important not only for the young Church, but for the entire Church: It is well-known that religious orders have always cultivated the vertical dimension by entering into a life with the Gospel and bearing witness to it through the example of the Gospel reread authentically: that is, on the basis of the Church and in faithfulness to her magisterium. It must be so today also. Witness, yes--protest, no! On every community, on every religious there weighs a particular co-responsibility for the real presence of Christ, meek and humble of heart, in the world of today--of the crucified and risen Christ--Christ among brothers. This is the spirit of evangelical maximalism which is differentiated from any socio-political radicalism.4~ What the Holy Father reminded religious of in Manila has to be the direction for all religious: "Faithfulness to Christ in religious life requires a threefold fidelity: fidelity to the Gospel, fidelity to the Church, fidelity to the particular charism of 38To Religious Women, Kinshasha, Ioc. cir. p. 3. 39Rome, December 13, 1979. January 7, 1980. p. 12. ~°Kinshasha, Ioc. cir. p. 3. '~To Union of Superiors General of Men. Rome, November 24, 1978. December 7. 1978, p. 3. A Pope for Religious ] 809 your institute."4-~ This brings us to one of the most important demands regarding the apostolate of religious communities: collaboration. What is meant here is collaboration on every level: between organizations of major superiors with national conferences of bishops, between religious and ordinaries, between religious and diocesan priests, between religious and the laity. In view of the disruptions which have begun to appear in many places, the Holy Father emphatically and distinctly pointed to the function of uniting and of teaching that pertains to the authority of bishops. He is concerned that religious in their theological teaching and pastoral practice "not only accept but seek loyally an unbreakable unity of aim and action with their bishops. To the bishops the Lord entrusted the mission of feeding the flock. To religious it belongs to blaze the trails for evangelization. It cannot be. it ought not to be. that the bishops should lack responsible and active, yet at the same time, docile and trusting collaboration of the religious, whose charism makes them ever more ready agents at the service of the Gospel. In this matter everybody in the ecclesial community has a duty of avoiding magisteria other than the Church's magisterium, for they are ecclcsially unacceptable and pastorally sterile.43 Nobody knows better than the Holy Father how important, in every regard, is the inner unity of the Church. To his difficult task he brings the experience of a bishopfrom a country under the sway of communism. It is for the well-being of the life of the Church that he appeals to the spiritual capacity of religious to work for unity within the Church. To religious men in the cathedral in Manila he said: As religious you are in a position to make a special contribution to the promotion of the unity of the Church. Your experience of community life, common prayer, and corporate apostolic ¯ service prepares you for this task. May you dedicate yourselves to the great cause of unity with renewed vigor, seeking in a spirit of openness and respect to break down barriers of division and to encourage the progress of harmony and mutual collaboration.4~ Community Life Characteristic of the consecrated life of virginity, poverty and obedience is that it is not vowed and lived outside but inside a community. In his address to superiors general John Paul said: Community life is in fact an important element of religious life. It has been a characteristic of the lives of religious persons from the beginning because spiritual bonds cannot be created. developed and perpetuated unless through daily and prolonged relations. This community life, in evangelical charity, is closely linked with the mystery of the Church which is a mystery of communion and participation, and gives proof of your consecration to Christ. Make every effort that this community life may be facilitated and loved, becoming in this way a precious means of mutual help and personal fulfillment.45 Concretely the Holy Father admonished the superiors general to do everything 4"Lot. cir. p. 6. ~To Bishops of Latin America, Puebla, Ioc. cit,, p. 4. aLoe. cir., p. 7. ~STo Superiors General of Women. Ioc. cir., pp. 8. 12. 810/ Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1982 "that can contribute to union of minds and hearts. The world is very sensitive to the witness that good or bad religious communities are giving. A sisterly, fervent and authentic life is indispensable in order that women religious may cope, in a lasting way, with the obligations, toil and difficulties that a life of consecration and apostolate entails in the world today."a6 Moreover, the superior has a genuine human and spiritual obligation to take care that every individual feel responsible for building up the community: Acceptance of one's brother, with his qualities and his limitations, the effort to coordinate one's own initiatives with decisions matured together, the self-criticisms imposed by continu-ous confrontation with the evaluations and points of view of others, become not only a very effective training ground of human and Christian virtue but also a precious opportunity for constant verification of the earnestness with which one endeavors to put into practice in one's life the obligations assumed in the religious profession.47 "Charity begins at home!" The "neighbor," in the meaning of the Gospel, is first of all one's co-brother or co-sister. True love for this very concrete neighbor should urge everyone to "be concerned with the well-being of the brother and to put aside one's own advantage." "If a person endeavors day by day to bring into harmony the absolute necessity of silence and modesty with the other absolute necessity of participation in community life, then there grows in him the ability to act as a genuine person who stands in the right relationship with God and with the others." These answers about community which the Holy Father gave to the Benedictines hold true for all other religious communities as well. To make this kind of community life possible requires real authority in the superior. The exercise of authority, in a spirit of service and love for all the sisters, is a vital task, even though a difficult one, which calls for no little courage and dedication. The superior has the duty to help the sisters to realize their vocation more and more perfectly. She cannot shirk this obligation which is certainly an arduous but indispensable one. To carry out this duty calls for constant prayer, reflection, consultation, and also courageous decisions, in awareness of your personal responsibility before God, the Church, and the sisters themselves who expect this service. Weakness. like authoritarianism, are deviations that are equally harmful for the good of souls and the proclamation of the kingdom?~ The Holy Father reads the essence and practice of genuine authority in a very concentrated and fundamental way in what St. Benedict wrote in his Rule about the abbot as spiritual father. It contains such richness that it would be profitable for all superiors, men and women, to study the Rule of him who traditionally is thought to be the Father of monks and of orders, beginning with a personal meditation on John Paul's papal letter marking the fifteen-hundredth birthday of St. Benedict. There is yet another aspect of community life upon which the pope frequently ~lbid. *TTo Religious Brothers of Clerical and Lay Institutes, Rome, January 12, 1980. February 4, 1980, p. 9. '=STo the Union of Superiors General of Women, Ioc. cir., p. 12. A Pope for Religious / 811 touches, and which sheds light on the importance of community life for the Church and for the whole world: Having come to religious life from very different social environments, countries and even continents, you live in communities to bear witness--contrary to nationalistic feelings, preju-dices, sometimes hatred--to the possibility and the reality of this universal brotherhood, to which all people vaguely aspire.49 Communities (the one addressed here directly is that of the White Fathers) have to be and are ¯ . . witnesses that prejudices of race, class, nation and culture can be overcome for the kingdom of God. It is on this basis that you live your consecration to the mission. It is from this basis that you wish to advance along the ways of deep spiritual life, where the values of poverty, chastity and obedience find their whole meaning again, whether you are priests or brothers. The Pope deeply rejoices at this and encourages you from the bottom of his heart. The Church and the world today absolutely need those communities in which sharing and communion are not just words, but realities lived from day to day, with humility and enthusiasm. Is it necessary to add that such concrete expressions of brotherhood will be, in themselves, a call to the young and even adults of all countries, to take their place in your ranks and carry on in the future?~° "Community" should not only be lived within one's own convent and in one's own congregation. There is a very acute demand for cooperation among all orders and religious communities, ¯. whether you are dedicated to contemplation or engaged in the direct tasks of evangeliza-tion, to be on extremely fraternal terms among yourselves and among congregations, and to help one another, better and better, on three planes which seem to me essential: to see your consecration in the right way and carry it out courageously, to be eager to take part in the mission of the Church, to pursue a solid spiritual formation and judicious openness to realities of your age and your environmentP~ Were these, and the other many thoughts sketched by the Holy Father able to shed light into the darkened areas of our hearts, leading us once again into a deep joy over our religious communities, it would be an unequalled contribution to the unity of the Church! Self-ldentity The Holy Father recognizes that the topic of self-identiO, is "hot." This is why the concept, if not the word, so frequently recurs in his talks. Fundamentally, this concept is but a variation of the theme that he often stresses regarding the fidelity which the individual and the congregation should have to the charism of the respective founder. Now he broadens the idea, referring to the consecrated life as "religious," and then referring specifically to the religious man or woman. The urgency of the problem is evidenced by the following statements addressed to religious men in S~o Paulo: 49To Religious Women, Kinshasha, Ioc, cit. p. 2. ~OGeneral Chapter, December 15, 1980. February 2, 1981. p. 12. ~Kinshasha, Ioc. cir. p. 2. 1~12 / Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1982 In the pursuit of pastoral collaboration there is a frequent temptation to dilute as much as possible, almost to the point of extinction, that which characterizes and identifies religious life and religious [thcmselves]. It is clear that it is not helpful either for religious life or for collaboration. A religious priest, immersed in the apostolate alongside diocesan priests should show clearly by his attitude that he is a religious. The community should be able to sense it. The same should be said of a religious who is not a priest, or of a sister, in their respective collaboration with lay pcople.~-' The situation described by the Holy Father for women religious in Mexico also often applies to all religious: But there are not lacking, either, examples of confusion with regard to the very essence of consecrated life and one's own charism. Sometimes prayer is abandoned and is replaced by action: the vows are interpreted according to the secularizing mentality which dulls the religious motivation of one's own state; community life is abandoned with a certain irrespon-sibility; socio-political attitudes are adopted as the real aim to pursue, even with well-defined ideological radicalizations. And when the certainties of faith arc sometimes dimmed, motives arc put forward, such as the seeking of new horizons and experiences, perhaps with the pretext of being closer to men, when it may be a question of concrete groups chosen with criteria that are not always evangelical. Beloved sisters, never forget that to maintain a clear concept of the value of your conse-crated life you need a deep vision of faith which is nourished and preserved with prayer. This faith will enable you to overcome all uncertainty with regard to your own identity.5-~ The situation he thus sketches seems to be what lays behind the Holy Father's intense exhortation to religious women in Paris regarding external appearance: "Never be afraid to let your identity as women consecrated to the Lord be clearly recognized. Christians, and those who are not, have the right to know who you are!"54 The Holy Father's concern is not only in regard to an understanding of religious life in general. Even more does he touch upon the problem of identity in regard to the religious man and woman. In regard to religious men, the Holy Father expressed himself in very clear terms on the occasion of the celebration of the Benedictine centenary, when he spoke about spiritual fatherhood in a father-less world. Still more specifically, though only briefly, did he address religious women. The pope picked up and developed the phrase of the superiors general, "Let us first be Christians," coupled with the addition that some made, "Let us first be women," saying that, in his opinion, they are not mutually exclusive. They become one in the mystery which embraces the mission of women in a very special way, placing them directly in its center: the mystery of the Church as Mother and as Bride. This involves a lived surrender. There is. it seems, in a woman's body and heart an extraordinary disposition to make her life a royal offering to Christ as the one Bridegroom. This femininity--often considered by a certain public opinion as sacrificed in a foolish way in religious life--is, as a matter of fact. reformed 5~-Loc. cit. p. 7. 53January 27. 1979. L'Osservatore Romano. February 12, 1979. p. 4. A Pope for Religious and expanded on a higher plane: that of the kingdom of God. For example, physical fecundi-ty, which has such a great place in African tradition, as well as attachment to the family, are values that can be lived by the African sister within a far wider and ever renewed community, and to the benefit of an absolutely astonishing spiritual fecundityPS It should make us wonder why there is a lack of community spirit, of loneli-ness, of unrecognized and unlived womanhood in some religious women when there is such a natural foundation in the very being of woman. It is hard to live the dignity of woman in accordance with God's plan when the natural foundation has hardly been tapped. Those who are concerned with the formation of young reli-gious should keep this in mind. Otherwise it would be impossible to fulfill what the Holy Father rightly expects of religious women: "The witness of a harmonious and mature personality, which is able to establish relations with others without unjusti-fied prejudices or ingenuous imprudence, but with cordial openness and serene balance."56 St. Catherine of Siena is for the Holy Father "a masterpiece of grace, renewing and raising the creature to the perfection of holiness, which is also the full realiza-tion of the fundamental values of humanity," in this case, of being a woman. In her nature as a woman, [Catherine] was generously endowed with imagination, intuition, sensitiveness, willpower and industry, with capability and power of communication, with readiness for giving of herself and for service. She is transfigured, but not impoverished in the light of Christ who calls her to be his bride and to identify herself mystically with him in the depth of "interior knowledge" as well as to commit herself in charitable, social, and even political action, in the midst of the great and the ordinary, the rich and the poor. the learned and the ignorant.$7 What stands out the most, in all apostolates, is always hidden service. This apostolate is usually hidden, near to the human being, and so more suited to a woman's soul. sensitive to her neighbor, and hence called to the task of a sister and mother. It is precisely this vocation which is at the very "heart" of your religious being. As Bishop of Rome I beg you: Be spiritually mothers and sisters for all the people of this Church which Jesus. in his ineffable mercy and grace, has wished to entrust to me. Be this for everyone, without exception, but especially for the sick, the suffering, the abandoned, the children, the young, families in difficult situations . Go out towards them! Do not wait for them to come to you! Look for them yourselves! Love drives us to do so!~ Difficulties, Experimentation, Renewal The pope is a realist. He sees the tremendous interior and exterior difficulties with which the whole Church must contend today: young Christians on the way to making their life-decisions, Christians in religious communities, and especially those who must bear their responsibility as superiors. John Paul II does not try to ~ Loc. cir. p. 7. 55Kinshasha, Ioc. c#., p. 2. 5~At Rome. Ioc. cir., p. 10. STCelebration of the Sixth Centenary of St. Catherine of Siena. St. Peter's Basilica. April 30, 1980. June 23. 1980, p. 7. ~STo Religious Women, Rome, lot'. tit. p. 5. 814 / Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1982 minimize the number of difficulties, as, for example, when to religious at Czesto-chowa he spoke of times "when you will have to endure inward or outward suffering or darkness."~9 Difficult to accept also are "the rapid social changes in a country, or the small number and the aging of your°subjects."~0 But the Holy Father is even more radical in addressing the topic of other "difficulties." He searches out roots which quite possibly come not from outside but from within the hearts of those who are called: Why is our testimony sometimes in vain? Because we present Jesus without the whole attrac-tive power of his Person, without revealing the riches of the sublime ideal that following him involves, because we do not always succeed in showing a conviction, expressed in real life, with regard to the stupendous value of our dedication to the great ecclesial cause that we serve.6~ This summation could very likely serve as an examination of conscience for many today. To the International Assembly of Superiors General in Rome the Holy Father mentioned still other kinds of difficulties. Throughout he shows great insight and gives clear directives for resolving them within--or at least making them bearable. The Holy Father ¯ . . wishes to give [religious] encouragement and comfort in the accomplishment of a commitment that is always demanding, often accompanied by the sign of the cross and by painful solitude, and which calls, on the side [of you superiors] for a deep sense of responsibil-ity. a generosity without weakness and confusion, and constant forgetfulness of yourselves. You, in fact, must sustain and guide your sisters in this post-conciliar period, which is certainly rich in new experiences, but also so exposed to errors and deviations, which you try to avoid and correct.62 This is not at all to suggest that John Paul II seeks to block all experimenta-tion. Were this so, he would not have asked the mothers general, in the face of"the wind of interminable researches and experiments: accept all these realities. Take them seriously, never tragically. Seek calmly for gradual, clear and courageous solutions.6~ No step forward in any direction is possible, unless starting from those already taken, but, vice versa, to stop at the latter is a sign of sterile stagnation,u The years of searching, sometimes of uncertainty and unrest have been years of purifica-tion. No~; we should be entering a period of consolidation and of construction.6~ After the years of experience, aimed at updating religious life, according to the spirit of the 59"1"o Women Religious, Jasna Gora, June 5, 1979. July 2. 1979, p. 4. ~'°To Union of Mothers General, Ioc. cit., p. 3. 6~To the Clergy, Religious and Seminarians of Santo Domingo, January 26, 1979. February 5, 1979, p. 10. 62To Union of Superiors General of Women, Ioc. cir., p. 8. 6~To Union of Mothers General, Ioc. cir., p. 3. 6~To Union of Superiors General of Men, Rome, November 26. 1979. December 24, 1979, p. 5. 6~Maynooth, Ioc. cit. p. 5. A Pope for Religious Institute, the time has come to evaluate objectively and humbly the attempts made. in order to rec.ognize their positive elements and any deviations and to answer them accordingly,u' [One should also] apply oneself humbly and courageously, when necessary, to correct, suspend, or direct in a more opportune way the experiments that are being carried out.~'7 Two criteria, among others, seem the most important: The first is that religious life is not truly renewed if the purpose of the renewal is, in practice, the pursuit of what is easiest and most convenient, but only if the purpose is the pursuit of what is most authentic and most consistent with the aims of religious life itself. The second criterion is that religious life is renewed in order to become even more a path of holiness.6~ The overall basis of everything that the Holy Father says to Christians who have embraced religious life, in spite of all difficulties, is joy and hope. "This is a wonderful time to be a priest, to be a religious, to be a missionary for Christ. Rejoice in the Lord always. Rejoice in your vocation."69 With this inner conviction, the Holy Father, as witness of hope, spoke to young people in the world on the World Day of Prayer for Vocations (May 6, 1979): You will meet difficulties. Do you think that 1 do not know about them? I am telling you that love overcomes all difficulties. The true response to every vocation is the work of love. The response to the priestly, religious and'missionary vocation can only spring from a deep love of Christ. He himself offers you this power of love, as a gift that is added to the gift of his call and makes your response possible. Trust in "him who, by the power at work within us, is able to do far more abundantly than all that we wish or think" (Ep 3:20). And, if you can, give your life, with joy and without fear, to him who first gave his for you.7° Orders and the Entire Church Many of the topics fundamental to the theme of this heading have already been discussed. The pope never tries to be too specific in pointing out concrete aspects as they fit into the overall picture. Religious have to be people ,who "love the Church" (S~o Paulo).7~ "Fidelity to Christ is inseparable from fidelity to the Church, especially in religious life" (Washington).n But this cannot remain true merely on the level of words, It must be manifest in concrete life and activity: "[Its] bond of union with the Church must also be shown in the spirit and apostolic endeavors of every religious institute."73 Very concretely, this means that members of the Church, and thus also religious, must follow the direction of the Church--not with gritted teeth and interior distancing, but "with generous and faithful adherence to the true magisterium" (S~o Paulo).74 Basically ~To the Union of Superiors General of Women. Ioc. cir., p. 8. ~'TTo Religious Women. $5o Paulo. Ioc. tit., p. 4. ~'STo Religious Men. S.~o Paulo. Ioc. tit., p. 7. ~Maynooth. Ioc. cir., p. 6. 70pope's Message for XVI World Day of Prayer for Vocations. May 6. 1979. April 30. 1979. pp. 3. 12. 7~To Religious Women. S-~o Paulo. Ioc. cir., p. 4. 72To Religious Women. Washington. Ioc. cir., p. 3. 731bid. 1~16 / Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec. 1982 this is all one problem: obedience. Obedience to the charism of the founder, obedience within the community, obedience towards those in authority in the Church. This connection goes even deeper: It has often been noted that there is a close connection between the fervor of the religious life of a country and the condition of the Church in that country: fervent religious life means a living and apostolic Church: where that fervor grows cold, the vitality of the local Church is reduced. If. by mischance, tepidity and mediocrity were to set in. they would soon be reflected among the Christian people. On the other hand, throughout the history of the Church, when she has been assailed by crises, it has always been the religious life that has given the signal for a reawakening and a renewed fidelity to the Gospel.75 These words demonstrate again that the pope never points out dangers with-out, at the same time, showing a positive side! In this instance, as in all others, it is necessary to "go back to the very roots of a sound ecclesiology as revealed by Vatican !!."76 The addresses of the Holy Father are not only marked by the spirit of Vatican I1, but also by the very words of the Council. This would be a very easy thing to trace through each of these citations here. but such would be beyond the scope of this paper. Finally, there is no more beautiful document about the inner unity of religious congregations and the Church than the "Pope's Letter to the Superior General of Discalced Carmelites on the Occasion of the Teresian Year.''77 It well merits frequent meditation. Mary Except in Germany (Alt6tting, November 16, 1980), the Holy Father, though he does not build his talks on Mary, does point towards the Mother of the Lord in all of them. This pervasiveness underscores the importance for us not only to acknowledge, but to ponder with renewed fervor and attention in our hearts what the Holy Father says in regard to the significance of Mary for the spiritual life, and espe-cially for religious life. Whoever finds difficulty with this might well let the off-repeated proclamation of the Holy Father become a vital question for his own life: Why is Mary the "model of every spiritual life," as the pope never tires of pointing out (Mexico, Manila, and so forth). Could not Mary become my model again? What does the Holy Father mean when he says that her "fiat" in Nazareth is the "prototype of every religious profession"? (Czestochowa). Why is genuine union with Mary a true "protection for the consecrated life"? (Rome). And do we--each one of us--really need this protection? Why does the Holy Father entrust each "seed of a 74To Religious Women. Ioc. cir. p. 4, 75To Religious Women. Baclaran. Ioc. cir., p. 5. 7~'Homily, World Day for Vocations. May 10, 1981. May 25. 1981. p. 3. 77November 9. 1981, pp. 8-10. A Pope for Religious / 1117 religious vocation to our Lady"?. (Czestochowa). And why do we need her interces-sion in our prayers for vocations? (Rome). And if the mission of a woman is so "deeply interwoven with the mystery of the Church" (Centenary of St. Catherine of Siena) because the Church in her essence is Mother and Bride, would Mary not be at the same time "Mother of the Church" and "the human picture of the Church"?. (General Chapter of Franciscans). Would she not be the key to solve all the present heated discussions in regard to the theme, "Women in the Church"?. Of course, pondering all that the Holy Father has said about religious life and Mary, we cannot stop with asking ourselves questions. Each characteristic descrip-tion of Mary, the Mother of the Lord, as "Model of the Church" (Franciscans, AIt6tting), "Queen of Martyrs" (Nagasaki), "Mother of Monks" (Monte Cassino) and many others, offers unlimited source for meditation. Would it be possible that here the Holy Father also wanted to give a fresh impetus to many religious? It Is Worth It! Whoever truly lives a consecrated life in generous and dynamic fidelity to Christ, to the Church, and to the demands of his calling and mission, serves the goal of which the Holy Father reminded religious women in Washington: The aim of religious life is to render praise and glory to the. Most Holy Trinity and, through your consecration, to help humanity enter into fullness of life in the Father, and in the Son, and. in the Holy Spirit. In all your planning and in all your activities, try also to keep this aim before you. There is no greater service you can give, there is no greater fulfillment you can receive.7s It is worth dedicating oneself to the cause of Christ, who wants valiant and decided hearts: it is worth devoting oneself to man for Christ, in order to bring him to Him, to raise him, to help him on his way to eternity: it is worth making an option for an ideal that will give you. great joys, even if at the same time it demands a good many sacrifices. The Lord does not abandon his followers.~ In this appeal to the diocesan and religious seminarians in Mexico, the Holy Father brought to a distinct focus his urgent concern for the consecrated life and the service of religious. May those who have received the gift of a call to this life and service receive these words into their hearts with courage and joy. Like Pope John Paul 11, may they, in the service of God, be convincing Witnesses of the Lord before men, especially before the young who are in search ofa way of life. It is worth it! 7~To Religious Women. Washington. Ioc. cir. p. 3. 7'~To the Seminarians at Guadalajara. Ioc. cir. p. 4. Thoughts at an Ordination Vera Gallagher, R.G.S. Sister Vera's last article in our pages was "An American Experience of Mother Teresa's Missionaries of Charity" in the issue of July/August. 1981. Sister resides at 2702 Broadway East; Seattle. WA 98102. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Invoking the Three in One, their majesty, their grandeur, we begin your Ordination Mass, Tony and Ott. And 1 think long thoughts. We pray for you, you called in a particular way as servants of the Most High, and we watch you, you with the youthful vigor and the radiant energy and the vision evernew, and we wonder whether you--or any of us--comprehend that call to servitffde that is yours/ours, and what it may involve. Servants all! All of us, for God has made us. And we live out our lives in contradiction to a culture generally indifferent, occasionally at enmity with all we believe. Today's saints--the Lord's servants--are surprises: -a Secretary General of the United Nations, a mystic: a tiny, wizened woman, a foundress of four religious orders; a street man with a gift of prayer, my friend, even as he kneels among bums in our Skid Road; ¯ that poor wretch in his cell on MacNeil Island (our penitentiary) a friend of God: that family in the suburbs, all His friends. You will meet them all where they are, working in factories, programming computers, pleading at the bar, driving trucks. The Lord who had formed you from the womb calls you to serve them, to inspire, to guide to holiness, to lead. That is your challenge--for "God did not give 818 Thoughts at an Ordination / 1119 ¯. a spirit of timidity but a spirit of power and love and self-control" (2 Tm !:6-7), as goes the reading that you chose. Alleluia, Alleluia.t The vaulted ceiling of our cathedral does indeed ring with the alleluias flung out from hundreds of throats, accentuated by trumpet peal and organ blare and the roll of the drums. Alleluia! For today, yes indeed! But your lives will not be alleluias. You know that. But how deeply have you internalized your knowledge? We are not candi-dates, none of us, for self-fulfillment or realization or attainment. One only comes to know God--and no greater joy has been created than that transcendent knowl-edge- by a process of ascetic self-emptying and self-naughting. Opportunities in plenty you will have! Catholic people have such expectations of their priests that one who hears them knows why Jesus was crucified--and why he would be crucified again. And they are good people, all of them. They mean well. "If I, then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, so you also ought to wash one another's feet" (Jn 13:!4). Servantship can glitter even as it beckons-- your ideal! But the reality is boring, foot-slugging, day-in-and-day-out: the phone, the doorbell, the daily homily, the marriages, the sickbeds, the deaths. Of course the "hiddenness" of sanctity is a theme you will have already explored--a hiddenness seldom found today, perhaps, in the monastic cloister or the hermit's cell, but found often enough in the everydayness, the sterility, the orderliness of middle-class existence. We who are sometimes lost in everydayness as surely as the ancient Fathers lost themselves in the desert are yet the ones who carry about in our pockets the lost coin, the grain of mustard seed, the deed to the acre of land with its as-yet-undiscovered treasure buried there. The Archbishop's sermon on the reading you chose from John I could not hear, since I sat behind his back. But I know that he talked of the cross towards the end. Celibacy may be your greatest cross--oh, not in itself, but in the general hostility expressed towards it. And your celibacy will be attacked, often, and by good people: other priests, nuns, singles, married couples--and by your own rational minds. Because, of course, it makes no sense. None whatever to rational minds. But you have promised it. What you do, Tony and Ott, will make little difference to this world of ours, one way or the other. What you are, though, counts. The saints began life much as you and I: not really bad, not especially good, just mediocre. But they smashed the plaster mold of this world's expectations, and they loved much. They rose above everydayness, yet not in spectacular fashion. Benedict Joseph Labre died a bum. Mat Talbot, a recovering alcoholic. Jacob Lieberman, an epileptic. And the Cur6 of Ars never did get his M. Div.! We have not yet canonized anyone who regularly visited a psychiatrist. But we will. We will indeed. I have digressed from celibacy, meaning only to say that the saints are those caught by a vision which changed their lives, and transformed those around them, because they clung to that vision. Saints are eschatological signs to our poor, 1~20 / Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1982 befuddled world--such signs as you are called to be, Tony and Oft. Hol, v. Holy. Holy. You have been called forth and examined and prayed over. You have been consecrated and ordained. And, in the abandonment of our joy, we sing "Holy!" Holy. the Lord God of hosts. To touch and to meet that Holy is the purpose of our lives. The only sadness is not to be a saint. The only failure is not to have tried. But to have found that Holy for only one glimpse, one in a lifetime--what is that? Possibly 1 know less than most. But i shall dare to respond. It is a joy, a tremulous, trembling joy, a joy which comes not from pain, but which transcends pain even as it confounds pain. It is vision, the vision at midnight when, because the darkness is so black, the glimmer of light shines clear, an effervescent, irretrievable light of shifting shape. It is peace, the still silence amidst the raucous clanging of the downtown streets at rush hour. It is fire, the flame which burns but does not consume, and which, in conguming, bears bursting life. And is it worth it? Oh yes, indeed. A million times yes. May the body of our Lord Jesus Christ preserve our souls unto life everlasting. Amen. We Are Anointed and Sent Out Through Sacrament of Priesthood We [priests] are all anointed in a special way and we are sent out through the sacrament of the priesthood. Among those whom Christ made and always continues to make "a kingdom of priests" we are priests in a special, sacramental way. All of us have also drawn upon, in a special way, the fulness of the messianic power that was revealed on the "today" of Christ's Holy Thursday. This "today" is our day. It is our feast. We were born along with the Eucharist, and so we were born together with the Church in the room of the Last Supper. In instituting the sacrifice in which the Church is constantly recreated, Christ at the same time consecrated priests, ministers of his sacrifice. He said: ~Do this in remembrance of me" (I Co 11:25). And we do it. We all do it, those of us gathered here and the priests of the entire Church with whom we are united today in a profound, sacramental brotherhood (John Paul II. Mass of Chrism, 8 April." L'Osservatore Romano, 19 April, 1982, p. 6). Advent: Not Ours But God's Daniel McLellan, O.F.M. Father Mcl,ellan is a student in a doctoral program in American history concentrating on American Catholicism. He resides at 317 Brownson: University of Notre Dame: Notre Dame, IN 46556. In a few weeks our time of waiting will be over. But today we are still anticipating. We still await the one who is to come. Patiently we look forward to the promised one who will come upon us from the stillness of the skies. We wait for the one who comes to fulfill our dreams and expectations. He is the one who knows us: the one in whose sight we live. Be it darkness or light, he sees us. "He sees us when we're sleeping / He knows when we're awake / He knows if we've been bad or good / So be good for goodness' sake." Thus began one of the more provocative Advent homilies I've heard. Naturally the congregation thought the homilist was talking about someone else. But that confusion always seems to happen at Advent time--Santa Claus/Jesus; Jesus/ Santa Claus. It's hard to tell the difference! Even though they are venerated in different .~hrines, with different rites; even though the votive offerings to one far outweigh ~hose to the Other, there still remains a great deal of confusion. Both "arrive" on the same day, and the time of preparation is the same. A common sense of waiting, anticipation, further binds the two. And nobody really seems to mind. But there is "something to mind." There is a frightening clash of symbols. Both Jesus and Santa Claus evoke notions of grace and charity, the extension of kindness and generosity. Yet Santa Claus is never enough; we soon outgrow him. Jesus is "too much"; we continue to grapple with him. The task of unclashing the symbols mediated by this season begins in how we perceive Advent. Unless this perception is carefully focused, we will be guilty of abusing the Incarnation, the enfleshment of God, by limiting the consequences of that mystery to seasons and festivals in much the same ways that earned Israel 821 1122 / Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1982 Yahweh's condemnation and disgust. The fruitfulness of Advent time and its integrity within the totality of our lives depends upon our ability to retrieve the season's meaning within the context of our lives as a people of faith who are invested with a peculiar call. As we make the focus of our Advent more precise we remember that there are many things right with our world. Despite recent setbacks, efforts are continuing to empower more and more people to have a say in the organization and working out of their own lives. Culturally, there is still a wholesome sensitivity to the need to overcome that ethnic imperialism that fails to recognize the relativity of one's socio-cultural value system; socially we continue to find men and women, despite the so-called narcissism of the seventies, looking to one another for a more vital sense of community. While the news is good least of all in the economic sphere, even this dimension reflects a basic willingness to attend to the restructuring of trade and investment for a global economy. In the world of religious there are signs that the old "either/or" dichotomy (Word or Sacrament, nature or grace) that was partitive within and between churches is being replaced with a deeper appreciation of the "both/and" synthesis (Scripture and tradition, freedom and authority). We have taken note of Teilhard's alert that the most profound move-ment is often the most imperceptible. And yet there is more that remains to be done. Apathy and ignorance still overwhelm the political process; cultural sophistication is still judged by narrow criteria; Moynihan's "benign neglect~ has become the strategy of dealing with the other; recession and unemployment continue to erode the self-esteem and incentive of millions. In the world of religion, the call to,community is still too often a disguise for flight into personal irresponsibility. This season of Advent can be an opportunity to meditate on the work of our lives and the vigor with which that work is carried out on behalf of those to whom we, as Christians, have been promised. Jesus reminded us that, upon setting out to accomplish a task, we ought to assess the situation and see whether or not our resources are sufficient. Perhaps we ought to spend a few moments retrieving the meaning of Advent as a resource enabling us more genuinely and effectively to accept God and the power of God in our lives for the sake of the many. What is Advent? Few would disagree that it is considered a time of waiting, a time of preparation. But for whom? For what? ls it Christ? In what sense? The historical Jesus has come and worn our flesh and blood. If we are awaiting that Jesus, our Advent is a contrivance: four weeks of having to psychologically shift gears everytime we light an Advent wreath, because there can be little real excite-ment, wonder, or urgency about an event whose history we have so long manipu-lated. Or perhaps the theme of our waiting is the coming again of that Jesus. But what happens on December 26th? These four weeks of waiting,, metaphor of our lives, are over, and we return to our very real preoccupation .with the present in which few of us give any thought to that final coming. In each case--the anticipa-tion of the birthday, the acknowledgment of the return--there is little of substance to engage our life in a critical way that penetrates into more than these four weeks. Advent: Not Ours But God's / 823 And so before long the other symbol, the other waiting intermingles, and our Advent collapses into a tinsel-and-light festival that has some spiritual overtones, but is centrally and primarily for each of us a commercial salute to the neighborli-ness we share. Now there is nothing wrong with that type of celebration. But it ought to be recognized for what it is. And yet, for all that, it seems to me that the yearly anniversary of Jesus' birth can be meaningfully celebrated in a way that engages the depth of our whole selves. But that can only happen when we make a radical shift in our perception of what Advent time is. The season is a time of waiting and anticipation, but it is not ourselves who wait--it is God. The Eternal One, who again and again has shown himself to be no stranger to history, waits for us to use an anniversary celebration to remind ourselves of that claim which that anniversary makes upon us by virtue of our incorporation into the life of Jesus. Advent is not so much our invention to structure our waiting for Christmas as it is God's invention to keep us ready for the fullness of life non, and forever. When we wait, whether it be for an exam result, a holiday, or the results of a job interview, we know we have expectations. And so it is with God. Advent is filled with God's expectation of us. To understand what God expects of us we look at the way he speaks to us. The Scripture readings for the last week of the liturgical year are taken from either Daniel or Revelation: apocalyptic scripture, scripture for a time of crisis, a time of decision. We begin Advent in a spirit of crisis, of decision. We begin Advent knowing that, One like the Son of Man is coming on the clouds of heaven. He received dominion, glory, and kingship: nations and peoples of every language serve him. His dominion is an everlasting dominion that shall not be taken away His kingship shall not be destroyed (Dn 7:13, 14). It is a kingship that presides over a "new heavens and a new earth." ¯ . : the kingship and dominion and majesty of all the kingdoms under the heavens shall be given to the holy people of the most high Whose kingdom shall be everlasting: All dominions shall serve and obey him (Dn 7:27). And the final words, Remember, 1 am coming soon! Happy the man who heeds the prophetic message of this book. (Rv 22:20). When Advent is our waiting time, what is the horizon that sets that waiting in focus? We wait not in promise of something new but in the midst of powers, dominions, and idealogies that too often obscure even the best within ourselves, let alone the potential of one another. The result is a tired and worn world view that 1~24 / Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1982 deadens the impact of Christmas. A Santa Claus, tinsel and lights are all needed to invigorate the season. But when the season is a coming face-to-face with a waiting God to whom we must answer, a God whose inbreaking establishes a dominion, a lordship that once for all lays claim on all peoples, that makes a difference. A whole new theme is set. God waits for us to accept and appropriate the new person Jesus whose birth marks the "inbreaking" of God's kingdom, whose source of life is imbedded in the future. It is only the light of what it is that God waits for us to appropriate--the power of his yet-to,be realized kingdom--that Advent time.has (or can have) any appeal. Advent prayer is filled with the promise of men and women who beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks [where] one nation shall not raise the sword against another nor shall they train for war (Mi 4:3). These words are set against the horizon of one whose kingdom shall be ever-lasting. It will be a kingdom in which the wolf shall be a guest of the lamb and the leopard shall lie down with the kid (Is I 1:6). The kingdom promises to be one in which death is destroyed forever and the lofty city is brought down, "trampled underfoot by the needy, by the footsteps of the poor." In this kingdom the deaf shall hear the words of a book and out of gloom and darkness the eyes of the blind shall see. The lowly shall find joy in the Lord and the poor rejoice in the holy one of Israel (Is 29:18,19). If Advent were a time of our waiting, these words would probably have little meaning; they would sketch a way of life bearing little or no resemblance to the world we know--a world in which the majority of us have already mandated our authorities to beat ploughshares into spears: a world that feeds its paranoia on differing ideologies; a world where relief of the suffering becomes fact only if the trickle falls far enough. When Advent is our waiting, the messianic promises mediated through Isaiah and the other sacred writers become scenes sentimental-ized in art or easily set aside as wonderful but ultimately a fancy that is, after all, impractical. And so its "onward Donner and Blitzen"--at least Master Card makes that fantasy graspable. But what if Advent is God's waiting? What if God waits for us to see things as he does? If Advent becomes the vision of what is possible for those who decide in favor of the kingdom of God, who take God at his word that the future~fulfillment of his promise has already begun to unfold in our midst through him whose birth Advent: Not Ours But God's we commemorate, then there is no excuse for disclaiming the reality of Isaiah's vision. We live at a time when the global village becomes smaller and smaller, a contraction that raises the temperature of interpersonal, international, and inter-cultural relations. We know that for all our differences which work themselves out ¯ in a multitude of ways, enormous tensions still threaten life as we know it. The disparity of life-styles between North and South, West and East; the persistent attempts at political hegemony by first and second world powers over vast por-tions of the world; the refusal of the "haves" to invest in the future of the "have nots"; the pursuit of value-free research subscribing only to the agenda of positiv-ism; nationalism based on consumerism--all of these difficulties ground us in the sober reality of the so-called practical. Lest anyone conclude that these macro-issues lack practicality within the con-text of our local experience, a brief look at the consequences of these conditions reveals how much they impinge upon the experience of each of us. Where differences in life-styles are severe, the price of natural resources, eco-nomically and politically, continues to rise as the developing countries which have what we "need"(e.g. tin, oil) demand a greater share in the fruits of these resources. Thus we experience a rise in our consumer prices. The struggle for political hegemony demands more sophisticated weaponry purchased at the cost of endowments to the arts, research grants, and college loans. A refusal to share and to cooperate with the "have nots" leads to the realization of what Kempis saw centuries ago, "A man who is tense and agitated by evil is troubled with all kinds of suspicions; he is never at peace with himself, nor does he permit others to be at peace." The evil of poverty and want breeds a world of suspicion and resentment that undercuts all attempts at peace and cooperation. Researchers whose only standard i's "progress" soon see people and the common good as obstacles to scientific breakthroughs. Knowledge ceases to be responsible or integrated within the totality of the common good. Finally, when who-we-are is based on what-we-consume or on our potential for consumption, we relegate the non-consumer, the poor, to the mai'gin of society. When what you are is what you wear or what you drive, when where you live is a "statement,~ what value is placed upon a "bag lady"? These issues condition the way we hear the promises and discern the contours of God's kingdom. They are such massive and complicated problems that they leave many of us numb. We retreat. We cannot believe that the energy of God's k.ingdom can accomplish the promise of the kingdom in the world we know. And so, as is commonsensical in the face of such a conclusion, we find ourselves caught up in an ethic of accommodation that lets us slowly extricate ourselves politically, socially, religiously, economically and culturally, till our yeast grows old and our salt goes fiat. What is needed at this critical moment is the sense that Advent is a metaphor of our lives, a reminder that our life and work is caught up in that future alluded to in Daniel and Revelation, and sketched out in the words of Isaiah. Advent is the 1126 / Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1982 season to recall that God who loves us and calls us now waits for us to lay claim to what he has loved us for and called us to--the completion of his creation. What is needed to fulfill God's waiting is for us to use the tools of faith, hope, and suffering to mediate the energy of God's kingdom, insinuating it first into our individual lives and then, by those lives, into the arena of the public life to which our talents and interests call us. The outcome of this is the vision of the prophets: a world of peace, of greater trust, of sacrificial sharing of resources. Scripture, in the book of Proverbs, reminds us that where there is no vision, the people perish. Magdalen, Zaccheus, Matthew, Paul all lived because Jesus had a vision of what his life could inaugurate. The question for me, for you is: do I give life? Only if we believe, only if we hope, only if we suffer. Whenever we reflect on faith we come to realize that we are. involved in that ~right now/not yet" relationship with the life of Jesus which a gospel describes: "Lord 1 believe, help my unbelief.~' The man who speaks these words is a grief-wracked father who, for too long, has helplessly watched the agonies of his pos-sessed son. The father has come to the point where he sees that the fulfillment of his need is only possible through the exercise of Jesus' power, through the penetra-tion of Jesus' life into the life of his sick boy. The man is convinced of this. He is committed to Jesus--yet he is honest enough to admit the relativity of this moment at the feet of Jesus. This man lays his great love there because he is convinced that Jesus can act on his behalf. He seems sure that Jesus' attention can change things. In front of the crowd of witnesses the man commits himself---"l believe"---to what Jesus can do, to what is possible under the power of God. And his further "help my unbelief," far from being a compromise of that conviction and commitment, is a testimony to the depth of the man's trust. There is no certainty-- there is faith. There is not the solid proof of hard logic--there is faith. Teetering on the edge of the possibility that nothing will happen--that the power of possession will frustrate Jesus--the father makes his confession of faith face-to-face with impracticality, embarrassment, and all the other diminishments that are the real frustrations and enemies of belief. The Scriptures tell us that the enemy was defeated. In a word the father grasps and is grasped by the kingdom of God in both its immediacy and its futurity. Thus faith is the way, in the here and now, that we live in the kingdom of God. For us, then, the question at. hand is the question of faith: Do you believe? Can you lay your life before God convinced that no one, nothing else can bring you worth and happiness--all the while makin~ this act of faith in the face of people, events, ideologies that suggestively contend the impact and relevance of Jesus in a technological age? Do you believe in Jesus? Is he decisive? Is he the way, the truth, the life in a lived way? History teaches us that it is not enough for women and men like ourselves to point to our surroundings, the observables of our environment; it is not enough to call attention to VOWS, to orders, even to baptism as evidence for ourselves, and the world, that we believe in Jesus. The most striking evidence that we are people of faith is the way we answer the question: what is my future? Perhaps we answer that Advent: Not Ours But God's / 1127 our future is to live and die a ,wife, a husband, a religious; to live and die a minister to the needs of the Church; perhaps our future is to execute a teaching, publishing or administrative career--in a word to play out the whole constellation of enter-prises that so many of us do so capably. And yet all this is not the stuff of that faith which is necessary if we would satisfy a waiting God. We can only lay claim to be people of genuine faith and thus, as Christians, lay claim to be honest if we confess that God and the ways of God are our future. In our times it is easy tO forget this God, to become occupied by the many ventures that claim to mediate this God. A quick survey of the last twenty years reveals a galaxy of brilliant theologians, of tremendously gifted church men and women who have crafted provocative theological syntheses, who have opened up the long-forgotten history of the community's liturgical life, who have gleaned helpful insights from the social sciences to be integrated into the processes of spiritual development, And yet in all of this there seems to be so little of God! Why is this? Perhaps the problem is that many of us are uncomfortable and even embar-rassed that God is our future. Even though in conventional discourse "future" connotes a certain open-endedness, we are co-opted by our culture which chafes under the provisional. We, like the biologist or chemist, the politician, the investiga-tive reporter or social worker, want to provide an answer--a helpful finality--to .the critical problems of our day. We want to come up with something that assuages the uncertainty that breeds alienation among the people we love. We cannot bear to admit that in and of our own resources we have not in all our centuries come up with the answer to the problem of sin and evil, to sickness and death, or to the true, the good, the beautiful. We are faced with the hard fact that these solutions belong to God and to his unforeseen future. And so, living out of step with the brokers of solutions, we strive to fall into step, to recover the cadence, and we end up canonizing the means at the expense of the end. What is necessary is to come to terms with the fact that if we confess God, the future becomes quite different. The future becomes, not merely the temporal sphere of unbridled poten-tial, but the fulfillment of a promise that we are no strangers to, the fulfillment of Daniel and Revelation that Isaiah made bold to sketch. To give evidence, to witness to this in a world so often convinced that its own mind and resources are sufficient, is a hard task. For we, too, are mere compassionate persons who are overwhelmed by the desire for an answer, a solution. What our faith needs, then, is hope. A believer's hope is not a hand-wringing anxiety that one's wish will come true. Neither is it dispassionate anticipation. Hope, rather, is the trust one has that the human adventure which in history enfleshes God's kingdom will not fail, that the "radical risk" of human freedom, i.e. the conferral of divinity on us, will not end in the disaster of men and women rejecting what they are. Hope owns the day when what Jesus could not work in Nazareth will be worked here. But this hope only takes shape when a person of conviction believes that in, with, and through Jesus he or she can make "an ultimate and radical and irreversible decision" regarding the future, whether it will be a fulfillment or an everlasting loss. 1~911 / Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1982 Hope is the virtue by which we take responsibility for God's future. It is not imposed. And it it not simply "my" but "our" future that falls into our hands. Hope is an active consciousness that engages us in the structuring and unfolding of human life because we know that God's future, our destiny, does not oppose the existing structures of the world. We know that God's promise involves a connection between the future and the present. In other words, our unforeseen future emerges out of faith to see political, social, cultural, economic, and religious engagement as necessary cooperation with God. The person of hope is one who recognizes that the efforts of even one person can invest a desperate situation with God's saving power. Our tradition is replete with persons like Francis, Dorothy Day, Frederic Ozanam, and Teresa of Cal-cutta, persons whose faith-action was not dependent on a movement or a commit-tee, but instead generated these support structures. What these Christians show us is that hope enables faith to speak to the world a word about God. But they also show us that the price of a hopeful faith is suffering. We are a people of signs--from "1700" shirts to pottery Communion cups to the environments we create in our homes. Signs reflect what we believe, and they sometimes call us to grasp what we don't yet strongly believe. Thus ifa hope-filled faith is or ought to be characteristic of our lives, then we ought to be lavish with the Sign of the Cross. Those most conscious of how the power of the kingdom of God is exercised in the world are intimates of the Cross--witness Francis of Assisi. St. John tells us that the kingship of Christ is most evident on Calvary. What does this say to us? It reminds us that the work of a faith-filled hope is only accom-plished when oneis broken and poured out. Thus God's waiting is his challenge to renovate society and ourselves. If we would use the political process, or the tech-niques of an increasingly sophisticated communications field: if we would direct social and economic policy and power to rebuilding the world, without first rebuilding our own mind and heart, we build on sand. Personal conversion is the primary suffering that gives the life of the future. Jesus' agony was a moment of decision to accept not his, but the Father's will. The Advent of God's waiting bids us to hear the Baptist's echo of Isaiah: Prepare the way of the Lord. Every valley shall be filled and every mountain shall be leveled. The windings shall be made straight and the rough ways smooth (40:3.4). And if this is done-- all mankind shall see the Salvation of God (40:5). It is no easy thing to reshape the landscape of our lives individually and socially~ Yet that suffering, that conversion is the first point of Advent's agenda. We who challenge autocracy .a.nd oppressive measures in the political sphere Advent: Not Ours But God's / 1t29 should do so only after challenging our pride, our disobedience; we who call for a more just and compassionate distribution of the earth's good should do so only in the midst of a commitment to abandon our personal greed, false need, and con-sumerism; we who call others to community should speak only when we are conscious of our personal efforts to overcome self-centeredness; we who speak about God should only do so while learning to speak with God. The process of conversion is a suffering because it involves a breaking away from what heretofore has sustained us. It is a suffering because it is an action never completed. Thus Francis could speak of his and ours as a life of penance; thus Jesus could bluntly say that salvation depends on doing penance. The Sign of the Cross reminds us that continual discipline and mortification is critical for that personal conversion that sustains systemic conversion. We come upon a further dimension of the cross in our lives when we realize that, like St. Paul, we must be able to say, "if you would imitate Christ, imitate me." We must be a mirror in which persons and societies can look and see a reflection of what they and society ought to be. It is Crucial to proclaim the gospel in a language that men and women understand. That language is our own life-styles and conduct. What we proclaim is not "more of the same"; we proclaim Good News. Thus our life-styles and behavior must be good news. To be good news is to put on Christ, and when one puts on Christ, Jesus says-- They will manhandle and persecute you because of my name You will be brought to give witness on account of it You will be delivered up They will hate you because of me. The consequence of faith-filled hope is marginalization by those who find the good news of God's kingdom a threat to their own kingdoms. These are not evil, malicious people--they are those upon whom Jesus looked with love; they are genuinely threatened by the gospel message and all who attempt to live it. They have trusted, not in God's future, but in their hard-won political base, financial fortune, social success, or theological sophistication. Because these persons are so often life's power brokers and trend setters, we are tempted to seek personal and communal legitimation from them. It is difficult to avoid this temptation. It is a painful thing to hand oneself over to subtle ridicule; to experience the trivialization of one's most significant values. And it is not a pain from which one can legitimately hide. St. Paul tells us to test everything and retain what is good. The experience of Elijah reminds us that God appears in the most unlikely of places. The person of faith and hope must be exposed to the full force of life--yet carefully select the good from the bad. Perseverance requires an inner strength forged by a vivid awareness that God waits for me to mediate his future; forged by an awareness of God's expectations of me. I emphasize the singular me, rather than the plural us because suffering has that quality of loneliness and abandonment that Jesus bore 1~30 / Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1982 witness to on the cross. Further, the us only takes shape as individuals are con-fron/ ed by the waiting God who gives us one-to-another to help each other fulfill those expectations. And so we stand in the face of Advent. What shall it be for us? Shall it be four weeks of tension between Santa and Jesus, Jesus and Santa, all coming to a close on December 26th as the too small jackets and the too large gloves go back and the beach wear comes out? Or shall it be a time to rethink God's relationship to me, to us; to remember that our task in life is to complete God's work of creation; to take responsibility for the future in which one, like a Son of Man, comes for an everlasting kingdom. God awaits our faith--that he is our future, that he is the end of human longing. God awaits our hope--that my life is given to make a differ-ence; that despite suffering and death, violence and hate, greed, disobedience--all the diminishments of sin--God's kingdom has, in Jesus to whom Scripture and tradition bear witness, broken into our present. Advent tells us that we are not waiting for God to act. Advent tells us that God has invested us with faith, hope. and suffering and now waits for us to recall each year that Jesus is our future, and we are invested with his power to make God's kingdom even greater. God waits for us to remember that a swaddled infant has, is, and will be a sign that we are not to be dismayed by what appears to be an overwhelming project. Today God waits for us to recall the urgency of doing good, of toking an active role in the issues of our day. And God waits for us to lay claim that what we have most of all to offer to the human adventure is a word of forgiveness, of God's love, of God's encouragement. We live Advent in crisis: God waits. He waits on faith, tie waits on hope, he waits on suffering. Does he, then, wait on us? The Practice of Penance Hence, an updating that would lead to a lessening of penance, that is to say. to a less generous, less joyful, less complete sacrifice of yourselves, would certainly not be in keeping with the Council or with the charism of your Holy Mother. In fact, fidelity to the practice of penance also promotes the exercise of fraternal charity. total detachment and authentic humility which remain the three hinges of the way of perfection (Way IV, 4): at the same time, penance denotes that characteristic and essential element of Carmelite experience which Saint 3ohn of the Cross, intrepid cooperator with Saint Teresa in the reform of your Order. has with masterly skill expressed in the absolute of the todo-nada.--John Paul II. letter to Discah'ed Carmelites on the Fourth Centenary of the Death ~f Saint Teresa, L'Osservatore Romano. 19 Ju~v, 1982, p. 3. Two Knowings Lorna Green Doctor Green has pursued studies in both science and philosophy. For a time she has lived with the Benedictine community in Pecos. At present she may be addressed c]o Knight: St. Lawrence Campus;. 790 N~r6e-Tremblay St.; Ste-Foy; Prov. of Quebec GI V 4K2; Canada. What is most wonderful about our life is that we can know its Author. We, caught in flesh and time and change, can know the unchanging Creator of our-selves and the universe, the great invisible One. We are meant to know God. He wishes us to know, he delights to have us know him. "Eternal life is this: to know you, the only true God, and him whom you have sent, Jesus Christ~ (Jn 17:3). There are two knowings. The first is theoretical, and our age is steeped in it. It is knowledge of the world--of science, history, theology, politics. To acquire such knowledge takes years of study, so we are dependent on experts. Many seek it, but this knowledge does not satisfy the heart. The second knowing concerns us most. It is practical knowledge--knowledge of God. This second knowledge is hidden from the experts, but it is open to ordinary people. How is this knowledge acquired? As de Caussade writes: "It is what happens moment by moment which enlightens us [about God] and gives us that practical knowledge which Jesus Christ himself chose to acquire before begin-ning his publi9 life."~ God can be known by us when, in our ordinary lives, we attend to what transpires in us from moment to moment, from day to day, and over the course of years. God is not afar off, somewhere over the mountain tops, but he is fight here, amongst us. That we may know him, God gives us the day. "The day" is the place where our small lives run together with the great life of God. So let us go forth into the ~Jean-Pierre de Caussade. Abandonment to Divine Providence. Image Books, Doubleday, New York (1973), p. 49. 831 1~2 / Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1982 day, and listen. God dwells in our depths and comes to us from inner life. Images, moods, memories welling up into consciousness are sent by him. We live among rivers of poetry and prophecy. Attending to what passes in our interior world is a way to learn much about him who dwells there. God comes to us from outer events as well. Always something feels real, and this is where God is to be found. Friends, gray winter days, music as we pass an open window, meditative afternoons--all can give us an experience of him. Inner and outer events blend in prayer. Ask for love in the morning, you will be deep in the confirmation of others in the afternoon. Confide to him fears and anxieties, and in an hour or so, when you are busy about some household task, they will have vanished. Tell him you need images for your life, and as you sit down to have a cup of coffee, an image from the depths will appear. For that is how close he is to us. Augustine: "Thou art closer to me than my own soul." When we are merged with our situation, the inner life is addressed by what happens around us. People complain that God does not speak, but God is always speaking. He speaks to us through others. Words that are his reveal their author-ship by their appropriateness to our inner condition which he alone could have known. So pray that he will speak his words to you this day, and go forth to listen. Words that are his can come to us from any direction--voices overheard at a street corner, from a child in passing, from a friend in conversation, from a book. The whole world is a medium through which we hear him. Augustine, praying in a garden, heard children singing: "Take and read! 'Take and read!" He interpreted their song as a message to read Scripture. He opened the Bible at random, and what he read there changed his life. For science and for secular culture, the world is inert. In God, the world is alive and magical. It speaks to us with ultimate speech. Each day is thee supreme adventure of finding out what God has to say to us. So let us go forth into the day, to live this adventure. God not only speaks his word to us during the day, he provides us with a thousand places where we may settle into his presence. At the edges of our life-structures are little pockets, little po~stinia of silence and solitude where we can touch him. A moment while doing the ironing, or going through a door, or getting on a bus, and suddenly an insight into our life-situation comes to mind. Then we sense his touch in the peace that is a sign of his presence. Love, life, light, power, peace, beauty, joy--these are the experiences of the day in which God comes to us. We can learn much about God's ways by noticing these. God never works on one plane alone; rather the psychic and the physical merge. Dreams are a privileged way in which the indwelling divinity may instruct us about inward being or show us the spiritual terrain of our lives. If you do not understand a dream in the morning, its i~nterpretation may come somewhere during the day. If a dream reveals the will of God, confirmation will com~ on the Two Knowings ] ~ conscious level. One may ask for two or three confirmations. He willingly indicates his desires for us. The day is the place where he reveals his will. A closed door here, an open door there, peace, these are his signs. Ease of maneuvering, bursts of energy, inspiration, an inward sense of the story being right--all reveal his will. Each event in our lives is sent by God. Therefore, if we would be wholly within his will, we have only to attend to the duties of the present,~moment, and we will be pleasing him. Somewhere in the day, the Spirit will send us a glimpse of who we truly are, for our identity is a great mystery. Then we must nourish that self and seek to bring it alive. That true self sleeps just below the surface of our waking consciousness and is the imago Dei, the beautiful image of God he wishes to realize and reveal in us. There is a self-knowledge which is knowledge of God. Every day will bring its darkness too. But darkness is part of his work of healing and bringing to wholeness. It can be acknowledged, prayed for in the evening. The Spirit never sends us more than we can handle. All we meet are messengers of God. We should respect especially those who cause us pain, for pain is the kiss of Christ. It is a sign that the little child who dwells within has been touched and needs hbaling. That child too can be praye~d for in the evening, in powerful images of the risen Lord holding it and calling it his own. The day is a short plot in the story of our lives where God brings us to identity, to individuation and integration. So days deepen into years, into the long patterns of our lives. God will bring us around to similar situations again and again until we turn to him forhealing. Relationships with men and women recapitulate old relationships width father and mother, and we need to pray for these relationships. The long story is.hisgift to us, the interface where our life runs together with his. This interface places in our lives a vertical order which can be grasped in prayer. Did we know joy, inspiration,,the love of spring rains and of ideas? Through these he draws us into his life-design for us. By what path have we come? What is our place in the mountainous territory of Being? How does God see us? Who is the beautiful imdgo Dei that he wishes to unbury in us? As we see the long patterns of our lives and answer these questions, we learn the way God has"worked with us in the past and will likely w0rk with us in the future. He is a God ~f order and not of capri(e.' God knows all our needs. Our lives, in their smallest details, are put together by him. When we see what our lives a're, see where we are, then we will know God. ! have spoken of God's ways with us. Perhaps it is possible to know something of his vast inner life too. Perhaps insights always welling up in us to dur situations are really his thoughts in us, bringing us to see as he sees. ¯ There are two knowings. The bne we acquire in schools. It i~ the province of experts. The other is acquired in life and is open to everyone. It is knowledge of God. "Father. to you 1 offer praise; for~ what you have hidden from the learned and the clever you have revealed to the merest children" (Mt 11:~5). ReligioUs in Politics David F. O'Connor, S.T. Father O'Connor.is Chairman of the Department of Church Law at The Washington Theological Union. He resides at Holy Trinity Mission Sqminary: 9001 New Hampshire Ave.: Silver Spring. MD 20903. ~n recent years it has not been uncommon for the media to inform the public that a priest or religious has announced that he or she will seek public office as a representative, senator, mayor, or some other such political position. It is .under, standable that questions be raised: Why are they doing this? Is it permissible? Who gives the permission? What does it imply? And so forth. ,~ The author of 2 Timothy (2:4) intimated that one must give one's full and undivided attention to the ministry when he wrote: "Put up with your share of difficulties, like a good soldier of Jesus Christ. In the army, no soldier gets himself mixed up in civilian affairs because he must be at the disposal of his commanding officer." Moreover, the Church has frequentlyexpressed its concern that its clergy and its religious not engage themselves significantly in parallel activities, especially if these activities were considered "foreign" to their ministry. ObvioUsly particular culture, local custom and similar factors have helped in part to determine what activities are considered unsuitable for priests and religious. Too, such unsuitability has also been expres~sed in the exhortations and instru$- tions of popes, bishops an.d councils, as well as in the regulations and laws of the Church. In.f~act, there is a great deal ,of continuity evident in this matter.from the earliest Church councils down to the most modern Church documents. This article intends to give, first of all, a brief historical perspective to the issue of priests and ,r.eligious in politics of public office. After a consideration of the present Code of Canon Law and how it has been interpreted and applied, there is,a, survey of some recent Roman documents and statements of Pope John Paul II which expressly concern themselves with this issue. Next, the article places the matter in the context of the Church's social teaching (which has had a very Religious in Pofitics / 835 significant impact on religious~and priests) and the influence~ of politicafized theol-. ogies on the issue. Then, it treats the Church's teaching on the unique place.of the laity in the Church's mission, and their reaction to the question of clergy and religious assuming roles traditionally reserved to the°laity as a form of the ~social aposto~lat,e of the Church. Finally, the latest draft of the new Code of Canon Law ~ is c6nsider,qd, together with a practical suggestion of my own about how it migh~ be implemented. ~ Historical Background ~ o Jn the early Christian period, the followers of Jesus ayoided publi~c office because such duties often were associated with pagan worship. As a matter of fact, the generally low social stan~ding of Christians in Roman society helped keep them from such positions. However, with the Edict of Milan (313) and the official recognition of Christianity, circumst~nc~is changed quickly and drastically. Chris-tian emperors forbade clerics and monks from accepting spec!fic civil offices, ~nd exempted them from certain public duties. The Theodosian Code prohibited them from being receivers or collectors of taxes, recorders of public or private property, and atto~rn,eys who conduct litigation) The reasons behind such legislation,had to do with the protection of religious~ institutions from injury and with guaranteeing that holy services would not be obstructed. Likewise, early Church councils for-bade clergy from engaging in secular administration.~_u,nder pain of deposition or d~gradation.2 During~the early middle ages, nevertheless, ,many clerics were una~bJe t? ~avoid public office, especially the administration of justice. Bishops were vassals of the king and, because of the high esteem in which the clergy was held and because of the education which they possessed, they were coerced into certain positions. At this time the Church was content simply to avoid evident abuses in such activities. Warrior kings wereoverwhelmed with the task of government and lacked adminis-trative~ personnel. ~The Church,~on the other hand, possessed the personnel who were ~ccustomed to performing ecclesiastical administrative~tasks. Hence clerics became adept 'at substituting for the often.~decadent civil ad.ministrators. The Church's own internal discipline helped keep,it from the universal anarchy,that engulfed society. So, when Charlemagne, for exa .mple,-wanted to reconstitute an administration i.n~his state, he turned to the clergy for help.3 In later centuries, these condiiions.changed and prohibitions concerning such activity again became increasingly frequent in Church life: Pope Alexander~Vll in 1658 forbade the clergy to engage in political matters~ This prohibition was ~The Theodosian Code. translated by Clyde Pharr (Princeton, New Jersey: The Princeton University Press, 1952), XVI, p. 326. -'See C.J. Hefele. History of Christian Councils. translated by Willian~ R. Clarke (2nd ed., 5 vols., Edinburgh, 1883-189,6), I, 460, 489. 490. ~See H. DanieI-Rops, The Church in the Dark Ages, translated by Audrey Butler (New York: E.P. Dutton & Co., Inc., 1959), pp. 262-263., ,~ ~136 / Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1982 .rep'eat~l by almost al! subsequent pontiffs. But in 1893 Pope Leo XII1 adopted a somewhat more liberal approach, permitting involvement in political activities in order~t6 'defend the, rights of the Church. At the same time, though, he urged clerics not to neglect their spiritual lives in theii" study of civil and political matters, and to follow the guidance of their own bishops.4 lntereStihgly, in 1884, at the Third Coun'cil'of Baltimore, the bishops of the United States'hb.d ~lready stated their own exception, in N.83. They forbade priests to interfere in political affairs unless it was required to,do.so in defense of morality and sound principles. Finally, in 1906 Pope Plus X gfi~,e permission for clerics in France'to become candidates for'political office with the permission of their own bishopg and of the bishops of the place ffhere they wished to do so.5 This became part of the public law of the Church in i913, and was substantially repeated in the Code of Canon Law'at its promulgation in 1917'. The Code ,of Canon Law (1917) The~present code prohibits the clergy and members of religious institutes and societies of the common life from seeking or accepting public office without an apostolic indult. Canon 139, :2, obliges the clergy. Canon 597 states that religious are bound by this regulation. Cahon 679, I, asserts that members of societies of the common life are subject to the prohibition. Some of the offices which are pro-hibited to these public ministers are, for example, those oflmayors, commissioner.s, judges, sheriffs, attorney-generals, prosecuting attorneys, governors, tax commis-sioners, state superintendents of schools, heads of municipal and state depart-ments, and similar offices. Canon 139, 4, prohibits the clergy (and religious and members of societies) from running for or accepting public legislative offices, such as senator, deputy or represefltative to parliamentary gatherings~ without the permission of the prO)per Ordinary and the Ordinary of the place where the office will be°exercised. This canon contains the only legislation in the Code that~ directly concerns politicai activity, on the part of the Church's public ministers. It seems that when the 1917 Code wa;g!being drafted, the.re was an expression in one of the drafts ttiat would have includ~d~any.involgement in politicis contentionibus (in political con-test~ or deba,tes). However, th.is was considered to be far too broad and was removed in the final draft. It was never intended to ~xclude religious and clergy from political discussions which might be ne~e~;sary to protect and foster the welfare~of, the people and of the. Church.6 °, ~ Religiou~ also ne~d the permission of their own major sti[gerior, even if he_or she is not the proper Ordi~nary (as are the major superiors in exempt or pontifical clerical institutes). Moreover, the Ordinary of the place where the office is to be exercised must a!s0, give his permission. The singular is used in the canon, so it is '~See Codicis luris Canonici Fontes, 9 vols. (Romae, 1923-29), n. 62~). SSee Acta Apostolica~ Sedis (Romae, Vo XXXIX~ 1906); p. 192. ~ 6Vermeersch-Creusen, Epitome luris Canon[ci (Romae: H. Dessain, 1925-27), vol. I, n. 233, c. Religious in Politics [ 837 not necessary to have the permission of more than one local Ordinary if the office is exercised over the people of many dioceses. Subsequen~t Practice of the Holy See (1918-1962) A review of Church documents from the promulgation of the Code until Vatican il attests the negative attitude of the Holy See t0~ involvement of the clergy in politics.7 For example, Pope Benedict XV in a letter to Cardinal Csernoch, March 12, 1919, deplored the inordinate political activities of some of the Hungar-ian clergy,~ and in a letter to the Polish bishops, July 16, 1921, he stated that the apostolate of the press should be used to combat error, and that the clergy should avoid undue politic~al activity.9 When the Pontifical C0mmmission for the Official Interpretation of the Code was asked' in 1922 by some~ bishops how they should respond ~to re.cluests by priests wishing to seek legislative positions, the Commission responded that the bishops should be severe and not lenient when .it came to granting such permissions?° Pope Plus XI wrote the bishops of Mexico in 1926, sharing in their protestations about the.persecution of the Church in t.hat country, but he warned them to abstain from political partisanship.'j Also, in a series of responses over the years, the Sacred Congregation" of the Council consistently informed ordinaries of their right and duty to forbid political activity to ecclesias-tics and that, after warnings and failure to amend, the priests could be suitably punished~ In one case, in 1958, the Congregation stated that active participation in politics by ecclesiastics was inappropriate because their work should be entirely directed toward the spiritual good of sou_Is and that the Church has permitted such involvement only in special circumstances and under very definite conditidns by way of exception, though it did not specify what these were.~2 A Survey 0f Some Recent Documents of the Holy Se,e Just,~as canons of the code concerning prohibited activities are expressly appli-cable to both the clergy and religious, so are some recent documents of,the Holy See equally applicable to both the clergy and~religio,us. This is due to the closelink which religious life has with the hierarchical apostolate and the special relationship ~ Which 'binds religious life to the pastoral responsibilities of the Church.3 " ~We will 'briefly consider four of these documents which contain instructions regarding the activities of priests or religiOus,and which give some of tl~e reasons for prohibiting involvement in politics or secular activities. I. Paul VI on "The Ministerial Priesthood" ( 1971 ) The second part of this document contains guidelines for the life and ministry 7See The Canon Law Digest, 8 vols., 1934-1978 (vols, 1 and 2 edited by T. Lincoln Bouscaren, S.J.;" vols. 4-6 edited by Bouscaren and James I. O'Connor, S.J.; vols. 7 and 8 and Supplements edited by O'Connor), hereafter Digest. ~Digest, vol. I. p. 126. ~lbid. ~Olbid. vol. I. p. 127. ~lbid., vol. I. pp. 127-128. ~Digest, vol. 5. pp. 199-200. ~131t [ Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1982 " of priests.~4 it explicitly treats the inappropriateness of the engagement by priests in certain secular activities and in politics. It states that the priestly ministry, even when compared with other activities, must be considered "as not only a fully 4alid human activity, but even indeed as more excellent than others," although this cannot be appreciated a,nd ~understood except in'the light of the gift of faith.~5 "And so, in the ordinary course of events, full time should-be given to priestly ministry. By no means is participation iff secular activities in which men engage to be considered the principle o.bjective, nor can it suffice to exp}ess the particular responsibility of priests.'!6 The document acknowledges the right of priests to function as ordinary citizens, but ~'~since political options are, of their nature, contingent and absolutely hever adequately and perenially interpret the Gospel, the priest who is a witness to things to come should keep himself removed to a certain degree frorfi eve,)ry kind of p61itical office or involvement.~7 Especially excluded are roles of leadership in--or an active militancy for~a political party, unless in some concrete and extraordinary circumstance this is required for the good of the. community, and the bishop has given his consent. The bishop is advised to consult the priests' i:ouncil and, if necessary, the episcopal conference.~8 2. '!Religious and Human Promotion" (1978) The Sacred Coffgr?gat~ion of Religious and Se~uiar Institutes conducted a study on the S~pecific roli~°of religious in the mission of the Church for the integral promotion of the human person.19 It gave special consideration to the socio-politi-cal involvement of religious. The ~study was completed in 1978 but only published in 198Oin conjunction with a companion document, "The Contemplative Dimen-sion of Religious Life,''z0 It acknowledges the link between the Church's mission, its widespread commitment to the adx~ancement of people and the betterment of :society, and the importani role religious play in this ministry. It notes sympatheti-cally the particular problems and difficulties which have faced religious when they have tried to intervene more decisively in the areas of injustice and oppression,,, their need to express solid.arity with the poor and underprivileged compelling them at times "to become actively involved, sometimes in the working world and in p01ilics."~1 However the document reminds them that "they are:bearers of human" and Christian values which will oblige them to repudiate certain methods of trade union aciion or of political maneuverings which do not respond to the exact demands of justice, which alone is the reason for their involvement?"~2 The, docu-ment expresses concern that certain types of involvement carry with them "the risk of a loss of identity proper to religious life and to the Church's mission . ,'z3 '~JSee Digest, Supplement through 1980. canon 592. (1981). p. 13. ~See Digest, vol. 7 (1974). pp. 352-365. ~lbid., p, 355. Wbid ~71bid. p. 356. ~See Di~est, Supplement through 1980. canon 592 (1981). pp. 1-32. ~°lbid. canon 593 (1981). pp. 1-21. "-qbid., canon 592. p. 6. ' "-'-Ibid., p. 16. ~lbid., pp. 356.357. "-31bid. Religious in Politics There~fore, religious are warned not to let themselves become directly involved in politics, and should "not be deluded into thinking that they will have greater influence on the development of persons~and peoples by substituting a political involvement, in the strict sense, for their own tasks."~4 They "should stand apart from certain political options, being seen not as men and women who take sides, but as agents of peace and fraternal solidarity."~5 Unlike the laity and lay members of secular institutes, religious have committed themselves to obedience t9 the common purpose of the religious c.ommunity and to their own religious superiors. Therefo, re, states the document, the presence of religious shot~ld "alw.ays be as consecrated persons who,seek the full conversion of people and society to the ways ¯ of the Gospel through witness and service."~6 3. "The Prophetic Role of Religious in the Promotion of Human Progress" This document appears in the English edition of lnformationes, the official publication of the SCRS1.27 It is obviously linked to the previous document of the SCRS1, "Religious and Human Promotion." It is concerned that religious not underrate their prophetic role and contribution in the Church. They should safe-guard the primacy of the charism of their own institutes in their activities and must not give way "to the trappings of some political ideology, nor take on activities or ways of ~cting proper to other vo6atiods, for example, of lay people or of secular institutes."~8 The document exhorts religio~s to be faithful to their own vocation and way of life which w.ill not permit them to be "of a party." It states that a true ' Christian prophet cannot canonize any political system and will be aware Of the ~njust~ce inherent in every;system because of human weakness. It explicitly dis-courages any direct ihvolvement with political movements and expects that reli-gious will be prophetic by standing apart and by being critically aware of the limitations of all such movements.29 4. "InStruCtion o.f the Sacred Congregation of the Council on Associations of th~ Clergy (March 8, 1982) ~ Although directed at priests' organizations in'Hhng~iry, Yugoslavia and Czech-oslovakia, this documefit is 0f'interest because it ekpresses the Holy See's consist-ent understanding of the priesthood as a life of service and minist,ry that is to be conducted in close communion with the bishop, and it condemns any organization that would impede that communion, harm the identity of priests, or restrict their service to people.3° There is no room for associations of priests or deacons which have a political purpose(~Priests must never put themselves at the service of any ideological or human factor because they are "heralds of the Gospel and shepherds of the Church, and must devote themselves to the spiritual growth of the body of "-~lbid. p. 17. ~-5lbid. "-~lbid., p. 29. -~TSee Consecrated 14"fe, vol. 4. n. 2 (1980), pp:, 416-429. ~lbid. p. 428. "-~lbid. ~0See CRUX ~fthe News. vol. 2, March 22, 1982, pp. 4-5. 1~40 / Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1982 Christ.''-~ Even if ihey are presented as supporting humanitarian ideals, peace and social progress, associations of priests which pursue aims related "to politics cause division and discord wi!hin the people" of God, both among the faithful, among the priests themseives, and between the pri(sts and their bishops. They "undoubtedly place in the shadow the priestly mission and infringe on ecclesial communion . ,,3.2 The Statements of Pope ,John Paul I! The pope believes, in harmony with the Vatican 11 teaching, that temporal and seCular matters are properly within the competence of the laity. In his address to religious men in $5o Paulo on July 3, 1980 he said: 1 would like to point out the origihality of the presence of religious in the world. Already on other occasions this point has been presented as follows: there are two f~rms of presence in the world, one physical, direct, material--the other, invisible and spirit~Jal.' but no less real. Lay men and women, due to the fact that they affirm their vocation of physical presence in the world, need that strong support that comes precisely from the spiritual presence of religious. They would feel the lack of it if. through the euphoria of"immersion in thc world." religious ended up by denying'the Church the contribution of what is specifically theirs. For theirs is not a call to alienation: on the contrary, it is an invit,~tion to think that in the Church. according to the concept of St. Paul. the clear difference (and not confusion) and the valid complementarity (and not isolation) of charisms and vocations, continues to be important. The presence of religious in temporal struggles will never bc fruitful in the long run (but will it even be useful immediately?), if it takes plac9 at the cost of the essential values--even tl~e most humble--of religiou~ life.~3 The pope has insisted on the different roles of the priest, the re!!gi.ous and the layman q~ woman in,the political arena. Religious and priests are to be aware of their own yocation to preach God's word. ~While this certainly includes a concern for justice, the priest and the religious are to be seen as agents of reconciliation, not division. Their primary role as servants of God and of his Church does not permit them nor.rnally to be directly involved in partisan politics where divisions are inevitable. The priest and the religious are called to inspire, motivate, educate and exhort. The task of renewing the temporal and secular order is the responsibility of the laity. The Christian vocation to public ministry and ser, vic~e in the name of the Church belongs to,.the priest and the religious. This form of Christian life is distinct from, but complemented by, other Christian vocations. Therefore, in his February 17, 1981 address to religious men in Manila, John Paul stated: At the same time I ask you to observe this guideline: that each apostolic endeavor should be in harmony with the teachings of the church, with the apostolic purpose of your individual institutes. May I also remind you ~f my words at Guadalupe: "You arc priests and religious: you are not social or political figures or officials of a temporal power., let us not be under th~ illusion that we are serving the Gospel if we "dilute" our charism through an exaggerated interest in the wide field of temporal problems.",lt is important for people to see you as .~lbid. p. 4. ~'-Ibid. 33See John Paul II Speaks to Religious 1978-1980, edited by Jean Beyer. S.J., (Chicago: I,ittle.Sisters of the Poor, 1982). p, 245. Religious in Politics / ~141 "servants of Christ and stewards of the mysteries of God."3~ While the pope does not confuse politics with religion, he courageously has condemned the violation of human rights, the lack of religious freedom where it occurs, consumerism, self-indulgence, unconcern for the poor, bias, and moral chaos. While he argues for personal and religious values, he opposes moral laxity and totalitarianism. Likewise, while he tells politicians tha~ they ought to aid the poor and ban weapons, he clearly asks priests and religious to stay out of politics.35 Social Justice, Public Office and Politics Invariably, since Vatican 11 (1926-1965). Catholic religious and clergy who are in politics or public office have cited the Church's social teaching as the basis for their activities. For example, one woman religious, a state senator, stated: "Though I may not be able to use gospel language when ! denounce sinful and oppressive structures on the House floor or in.committee meetings . . . 1 am nonetheless making the Church's teaching present and striving for the reconcilia-tion it seeks to promote by reordering relationships and structures?'36 Social justice has been a concern of the Church, especially from the pontificate of Leo Xlll~to that of John Paul 11. Since Vatican !1, the Church has been seeking to define its life also in terms of its impact on human development,. Gaudium et spes helped the Church come to the conviction that there cfin be no explanation of what the Church is apart from its impact on the social, political and economic life of society: Indeed, at the Third Roman Synod of Bishops (1971), the pursuit of justice in the world was perceived as an integral element in the life of the Church. However when Paul VI addressed the Fourth Roman Synod of Bishops (1974) on the ,subject of evangelization, he warned that the message of salvation which the Church preaches cannot be reduced "to mere sociological or political activity., to a man-centered and temporal message . " but quickly added, "there is no separation or opposition [between evangelization and human development], but a complementary relationship . -37 While the bishops accepted this integral rela-tionship between evangelization and~human development, their concern was on the emphasis-being given the latter in developing countries and the tendency to eliminate the distinction ,between evangelization, and development. Again, in 1975 when the Pontifical Commission on Justice and ~Peace issued its document on "The Church and Human Rights," it reasserted that the Church must have a liberating impact on society, but stated that it does not enjoy any special compe-tence in the political or economic areas, nor was its mission of salvation to be reduced to those areas of life and temporality. 34See Address of John Paul. 11. February 17. 1981, Osservatore Romano English Edition. p. 6. 35James V. Schall, S.J., "The Changing Catholic Scene," in Christianity and Politics. edited by Carol Friendly Griffith (Washington. D.C.: Ethics and Public Policy Center, 1981). p. 38. ¯ a~Jim Castelli. "Priests, Nuns, Ministers in Politics," Commonweal. 24 June. 1977, p. 400. 377he Pope Speaks. 19 (1975), pp. 189-190. 842 / Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1982 Unfortunately, when clergy Or religious have spoken out on behalf of justice and basic human rights, as they are obliged to do at times, they have been accused of "meddling in politics." Furthermore, in systems of political oppression the corporal works of mercy are themselves perceived as political acts pure and simple when political oppression is the cause of such poverty. As a consequence, religious and priests have b~en persecuted, even murdered for their performance. Therefore, "politics" can mean different things to different people. When bishops have taken a public stand against abortion,,this is considered to be a political act more than a moral stand by a segment of the populace. What is to be thought, then, when the bishops lobby in Congress in pursuit of Church interests and the broader goals of peace, justice and equality? The history of the Church manifests the extraordinary dangers that beset it if it becomes

Issue 36.6 of the Review for Religious, 1977. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS IS edited by faculty members of St Louis UmversLty, 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 dountries, $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. Dattiel 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 November 1977 Volume 36 Number 6 Renewals, new subscriptions, and changes of address should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Correspondence with the editor and the associate editor together with manuscripts and books for review should be sent to REWZW FOa REL~CIOUS; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boule-yard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. (;allen, S.J.; St. Joseph's College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsyl-vania 19131. My Son's "Hour" by Virginia Ann Gardner, S.S.J.1 who shares via dramatic mono!ogue memories ---of others' contemplations and her own-- in an interview with Mary about 1Sister Virginia Ann resides at 517 East 26th Sty; Erie, PA 16504. I. The Marriage Feast at Cana Now that I think about it, my Son's hour had a special kind of beginning at Cana. Chesterton once said, "There was some one thing that was too great for God to show us when he walked upon our earth; and I have sometimes fancied--it was his mirth." That is so true it makes me smile. You would have to admit the gospels show little if any of the Alleluia that Augustine said a Christian should be from head to foot. But the evangelists had so much to tell--and, besides, when they were writing, trying to catch the memory of Jesus in words, they knew little mirth themselves. They knew only urgency as they watched Christians pay the price of Love. Little won-der they record no mirth, no laughter, no sign of human joy. Yet, from the beginning, marriage feasts have been symbols of celebra-tion. One finds few somber wedding guests--ever. And so it was at Cana! We had gone to Cana together--Jesus and his new friends, strong, simple men full of the love of life. Cana was filled with mirth and laughter and the warmness of love shared. 817 I~11~ / Revie,w for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/6 Then, strange that I should have noticed, I read the concern on servant faces: all jugs of wine were empty. It struck a sympathetic chord and I turned to Jesus: "They have no wine," I said. It was just a simple remark--nothing more; the observation of some-thing that would bring embarrassment. It was the way anyone would say, "What a pity!"; or, "Isn't that a shame!"---and wish that you could help. You know, if I were to orchestrate a symphony, I'd compose the Marriage Feast of Cana in a major key of sheer joy--until we knew "there was no wine." But when my son responded, "Woman, what is that to you and to me, my hour is not yet come?"--then, I'd have tympanums clap and cymbals clang; I'd deafen ears with the roar of drums. It would be a haunt-ing interlude--repeated often during the symphony to record in sound the history of an hour that began at Cana. Jesus called me Woman. Strange. Did he mean it as a call to sacrifice --a call to live what women through the years have lived? "She is such a woman," we say--and mean there is nothing small about her; she does not stoop to smallness; she endures. Still, it startled me, much as Gabriel had some thirty years before, with--"Rejoice, O highly favored daughter!" Then Jesus spoke again, "What is that to you and to me?" Was he calling me to translate and respond? Translation revealed everything: He meant: were he to act, the act would be but a first on the way to his hour. "My hour has not yet come," he had said. Someone has called its dis-cernment~ etermining the will of God. At Nazareth I had "wondered and was troubled," I even questioned Gabriel. I did not unders.tand. At Cana there was no wonder, no question. I knew! And I said to the servants: "Do whatever he tells you." Yes, I answered~knowing full well "what it meant to Jesus and to me." We would be parted. I would be alone --and where Jesus was, what he would be doing, I would not know. You see, at Cana we shared discernment: His Father willed that his hour should begin. A mother, someone has said, is a lover--a lover who gives of herself and then pushes the loved .one away, both the child and herself enriched. I loved my son; I had given him myself; I had taught him human ways of talking, walking, laughing. At Cana I pushed that loved one away so that he could tell others what to do. The pushing hurt. But long ago I had vowed: "Be it done unto me according to Thy will." Corita says, "To celebrate is to tell who we are and to say yea cere-moniously." That is what my son and I did together at Cana. I spoke my last recorded words: "Do whatever he tells you." My last recorded words! They began my son's hour. John tells it in his Gospel. You'll read it all in John, and only there. Yes, we had looked forward to Cana. We had not known what the Father would ask. He asked me to be woman; He asked for an hour to be-gin; and on that day my son and I, together, shared a fiat. My Son's "Hour" / 8"19 II. Good Friday Evening Now I knew. Now I understood. Scripture had unfolded. It was like hearing that symphony played--one I had studied the score for but had never heard. "Oh, so that's how it goes! It's lovely and aweful." John had come for me--telling me Jesus' hour had come. I knew it of course. I'd known it since that day in Cana. Lovers aren't aware of time. Days, months, years telescoped. I had said my fiat to this hour thirty-three years ago, but thenwI did not understand. It's like writing something or clinging to an idea you don't understand until later. The unknown is diffi-cult, but it's good for you too. How hard it would have been to live those thirty-three years with what I know now! But at Cana the hour moved both Jesus and me at once. We knew. I did not need to speak for him to hear me, because we were both hearing with our hearts then; and we had both said yes. With Jesus it was always yes. I guess it was with me too---because the Father helped me, the Spirit moved within me--and I said yes ceremoniously to the God of my life. I think the Father saw "that it was good." Since then, since Cana, time has dragged and sped. I've heard so many things about my son. Sometimes what I've heard pierced--and I'd remem-ber Simeon. Sometimes, though, my heart quickened. People would tell me of his life, his compassion--and I'd go back to our Nazareth days, days shared with Joseph. But John came--a humbled "son of thunder." I understood. I loved him for it, and.I went with him. Jesus came stumbling up the road---carry-ing that cross. My heart broke; it broke. But even then I understood. You don't live trusting all those years without the courage to be strong. Then Jesus saw me. I extended no veil. I did not weep. I gave him all I could. His Father, my Father, erased from my eyes all pain. Once again, I did not have to speak for him to hear me: "It's all right, Jesus; no, don't worry about me. Your hour has come. I understand." His glance meeting mine spoke too. It was almost as though he tried to smile, and console me, saying, "It's not bad, not bad at all. Don't worry, Mother." Role pl~ying? You call that role playing? Putting on a masque? No, not at all. Me? I call it gift--my last gift to him. My son, who had emptied himself to take on the masque of humanity, would understand. Emptied him-self. I'm told that is the way Paul wrote it. I like the way another has put it: "Poured himself out." That is how I see his hour that started at Cana and became a free accepted death-act on Calvary. Hearing iron strike iron was such a familiar sound to me! My husband was a carpenter and he'd taught my Son. Part of the price of that hour was the giving up of sounds, sounds that brought back "homey" memories. Strength was God's gift to me; but because he is all knowing, and because he is everything my Son had revealed, I knew he'd understand that ever since that hour, I've been very sensitive to iron striking iron. ~i20 Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/6 Three hours is not so long a time. It took us longer to get to Bethlehem --and much longer to Egypt---but no time was longer in all my life than those three Friday-hours. His hour was never so long in coming. My heart still shares that pain as I watch loved ones die--loved ones am(~ng my chil-dren now on earth. My children? Yes, my children. During my son's hour he gave me as Mother to all children of all time and all places. Strange! I had given birth to Jesus for one reason: so that he might be shared with all people of all time and all places. In the greatest hour of that sharing, he too shared me-- with John, and in John, you. At Cana, I spoke my last recorded words, "Do whatever he tells you." In one of my Son's last words, he tells you to take me as your Mother. His hour had come and he gave up~no---he didn't give up, he poured out his Spirit. It was that Spirit that had filled me years ago--and once again--this time eternally, I prayed my fiat and you became my Spirit-child. Now share your Brother's hour caught eternally in time. His hour is here! With him, pour yoursel[ out. III. Holy Saturday "Great will be his dignity." I had pondered those words in my heart for thirty-three years: while arranging the straw in the stable-manager; while fleeing in fear to Egypt; as I stood before the prophet Simeon. They came back with new poignancy during the donkey-pageantry in Jerusalem--and five days later when I saw Jesus' bloodied eyes neath his thorned-crown. Then, as I prepared his bruised body for burial, as I washed his wounds, and Joseph (how good his name was Joseph!) helped me with the linen shroud, I thought of them again. It would have been easy to be cynical but I had watched my son die; and I heard him forgive his crucifiers. Yes, I had heard him cry, "Father, forgive." And I heard him call me Woman. Could the dignity he called me to in that name ever match the dignity of his forgiving love? My sagging shoulders had straightened and John had helped me back to the Upper Room. On our way, John and I said the first Stations--back-wards. I made John show me the Praetorium and take me to Gethesmane. John cried, remembering his sleep. And he told me all my Son had said and done in the upper chamber. It was not the time to speak to him of symphony, but I tried to comfort John; he was young and the day had been agony for him, I knew. Then I withdrew. I cried my tears alone. The Father watched and con-soled me. Jesus had wept at Lazarus' tomb; and Jesus had said just a few hours earlier: "Who sees me, sees the Father." Tears, I knew, were some-thing the Father understood. I let them come. What had happened to my mother-hope? "Great would be his dignity. He will be called Son of the Most High. He will rule forever in a reign My Son's "Hour" / 821 without end." Gabriel had told me that. It was a message from the Father. Let me tell you--that night there was within me a whisper of despair, Was it, I wondered, a whisper my son knew too when I heard him call: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Faith is not faith, we're told, until it has been tested. That night, my faith knew its greatest test. And yet something still stirred within me--and I endured. I waited through that long, long vigil--clinging hard to mother-hope and to the patience I had learned from waiting for his hour. I knew--no, I did not know; I hoped that his hour had not ended. I fell asleep saying, "Lord, I believe; help . . . help thou my unbelief." IV. Resurrection If "appearing" means "closeness," there was no need for my Risen Son to come to me. Together or apart-~I live in him and know his closeness. The time after Cana had taught me that. Then, I had thought Jesus' mission would ask for separation--a typical human fear, I know---but the Father was good. Just as the Incarnation had never separated Son from Father, so Jesus' leaving home kept us still united. With him, I was doing the Father's will, and the Father asked that I share him with the world. I shared, and lost nothing. Jesus had said the one who best does the will of his Father--is his mother and father and sister and brother. People pitied me when he said that. They needn't. He was really saying I was more than mother to Jesus. His Father willed it so and I accepted that will. Thomas Merton, in writing about me, once explained how I felt, "I was glad because He was glad and for no other reason." I say all this so you'll understand: it was not necessary for my Risen Son to appear to me. All that mattered was that I believed and he knew I did. Ignatius Loyola had loved me, so he insisted that Jesus appeared to me first. I never admitted that--even to Ignatius; nor shall I admit it to you. Yes, you like the poem that tells I had gathered herbs and had them ready for Jesus' Easter breakfast. You like to think that, while apostles hud-dled in fear, while women wondered "who will roll back the stone," and Magdalen searched the garden--I was calmly fixing those herbs. I'm sorry. That is like a little jewel---a pretty thought. I cannot say it's more. John, whom Jesus had given me as son, was exhausted when he'd finished his memories of Jesus. '"There are still many other things that Jesus did," he wrote, admitting the world would not have books enough to record them. Some things must wait 'til heaven-~else why have faith? I say, then, to you--perhaps I saw my risen son on Easter; perhaps, as it will be for you, that vision came only ~at death. It matters not. The important thing is Christ had died; Christ is risen. I believed and, so, my child, must you. I promise though, that sometime when we meet in heaven, we'll talk about this if you want. But then I doubt if it will matter. You'll Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/6 understand when your believing is no longer necessary, for Christ will come again. Wo Dialogue with Mary at 55-~ I was not so old the day Christ died So young I was the night I gave him birth. But when they pulled that spear from out his side No one was quite so old on all this earth. You remember that poem, do you? It's true--I was older at 55. Mothers share the lives of their children and my Child had become sin. I think I can say he had become the sin of all my children; he had taken on himself your sin--with that of all the others. Sin ages one. Faith on Good Friday didn't save me from feeling the weight of all those sins. And with Jesus, I forgave all those engaged in sin's tragedy until the end of time. I forgave y6u--and loved you in my Son. But all this took its toll. Yes, I was older at 55. The death-resurrection act was almost ten years old then. John and I shared a home and much more besides. He had begun his Gospel and he'd leave parts with me when he. went on his journeys. I would read them in the quiet evenings pondering each word in my heart; it would take me weeks to read my son's "last discourse." All the apostles would come to see me--come home, tired, from their journeys. Luke came too--our cousin, constantly asking questions about the early life of Jesus. I loved to share my memories. They had become very precious to me---forming a tapestry now--and even Golgotha brought peace. I had lived my own "healing of memories." Things were different after Pentecost. The Holy Spirit that had come upon me long years ago came to all the apostles--filling them with the Love that had given me the courage of my years. All minutes were precious to me but when one of the apostles would return, and I'd send word to the neighbors, and we'd break bread together, keeping my son's new Covenant --then, I find it hard to tell you what I knew. I don't mean that I didn't feel his Spirit with me always. It was just that I'd experience my pre-Bethlehem days again. Jesus was within me--no longer an unborn infant, but my mature son--and we'd share together all we once did not understand. That knowledge and that wisdom were caught in heartbeats of Love. Then I'd be ready to go to the well again and listen to the gossip of the women. Christians, they would say, "are changing the face of the earth." 2The author herselt' is 55. My Son's'",Hour" / 823 Some were not eager for that change. It exacted a heavy toll, I know. But filled with the Spirit the Father sent me one spring evening--and my risen son sent to the whole world--I could look at each woman with such love that she too could respond with openness to that Spirit. You would have liked my life at 55. Did I long for heaven? I longed, my child, only to do God's will. If ever the Father had been very fond of anyone, he'd been fond of me. I wanted to return that fondness--without anxiety. The Trinity lived within me. I was content to do the Father's will. I don't mean that I didn't feel the cross of separation. I was human-- very human, and I longed for reunion with my parents, with Elizabeth, with Joseph. But it was comforting to know they were all with God. We'd be together again--all of us in his good time and that would mean for eternity. And I said once more to the Father; Behold the handmaid of the Lord Be it done unto me according to your will. Amen! .O Till I Begin I did not understand till I had begun to know. I did not find You, You found me; a small and melancholy st6ne to be carried in Your pocket, till I begin to wear, to shine, till I am brushed to a smooth and faultless final core. Stephanie E. WeIler 1030 East Washington St. Iowa City, lowa 52240 Dread (the Dark Night) and Christian Transformation Leslie Lund Miss Lund is presently working on her thesis to complete her work towards an M.A. degree in Religious Studies at Gonzaga University in Washington; her interest is in spirituality. She resides at E. 945 Nora, 4~4; Spokane, WA 99207. It is difficult to be living an authentic, deep Christian life without shortly running up against the cross, the "dark night" (St. John of the Cross), the "cloud of unknowing" (14th-century anonymous Christian mystic), or "diminishment" (Teilhard de Chardin). I will lump all such terms, and the experience they attempt to express, under the catch-all word, dread. These elements of suffering and diminishment (dread, as we may now call it) are not peculiar to Christianity, and neither is mystical experience itself. Such experiences are not in themselves a good. Dread is not to be sought for its own sake. We are not stoics or modern existentialists or Buddhists --but Christians--and this article cannot be read outside the total Christian perspective. Christians may not affirm or emphasize the negative aspects of spiritual growth to the exclusion of ultimate Christian hope, fulfillment, the restoration of all things in Christ. It is my hope, lest distortion arise, that this focus will be kept clearly in mind throughout the article until its final elaboration in the concluding pages. The Paschal Mystery is diminishment, yes, but it is transfiguration. It is the cloud, but it is truth and light. It is the dark night of the soul, but it is union. It is the cross, but it is, ultimately, the resurrection. Though there may be a number of different levels or nuances to dread, in this paper I will be dealing with a very specific understanding of it. The focus will be on religious dread, though to accentuate its particular qualities 824 Dread and Christian Transformation I Will at first show religious dread in counterdistinction to an existentialist conception of dread. There are a variety of states of dread, even within the religious context, so to further narrow the topic, this article will concern itself with the religious dread experienced in serious prayer (desert prayer or contemplative prayer-~-the "dark night of the soul" in John of the Cross). For a representative understanding of this state of dread I will use the l~anguage and thought of a "classical" contemplative, the author of The Cloud of Unknowing, and also of a modern contemplative, Thomas Merton (from his book, Contemplative Prayer, in which the topic of dread is dis-cussed in some depth). Dread Dread is a basic, and common, human experience, and as such, it is a theme that recurs in literature, psychology, philosophy and theology. For the philosopher Kierkegaard, dread could also be set within a religious context. But even so, generically it can be described as a condition or state of being that comes before and precipitates a choice (leap) from one period of life to another. Dread, then, involves the awful possibility of freedom, for it forces the choice for or against new realities or potentialities. This state of freedom and new choices is recognized as very painful by existentialist philosophers, but Kierkegaard believed one could be delivered from it by making a leap, a commitment to the "objective uncertainty." The leap is the leap of faith.1 The choice is painful because it is made in regard to the unknown and undeterminable, and hence to what is both attractive and fascinating, but revolting and frightening. It is a very uncomfortable sit-uation, marking the end of self-complacency and the beginning of some-thing new. Let us further define dread. Christians, along with existentialists, can describe it as a state of anguish, alienation, and insecurity. It also includes a recognition of the limits of reason (the experience of "absurdity" for the existentialist), though for the Christian this does not therefore imply that what is is meaningless, but rather, that the meaning escapes the power of haman reason, and lies beyond the self in the.transcendent mystery of God. However, religious dread includes attributes or nuances beyond "sec-ular" dread. It includes for the Christian also the awareness of sinfulness, wandering, exile, Iostness (Exodus themes). This state Merton describes as ". death--a kind of descent into our own nothingness, a recognition of helplessness, frustration, infidelity, confusion, ignorance.''~ The person can experience an acute, sense of his own uselessness and worthlessness. This experience and awareness of the self is particularly painful, though for tThe similarity of this secular view of dread with our religious dread, and what it means in a Christian context will come Clear, hopefully, a little later. 2Thomas Merton, Contemplative Prayer (Garden City: Doubleday, 1969), p. 34. ~196 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/6 the Christian this pain does not drive him to self-sufficiency in setting up the self as the center of its universe, but on the contrary, pushes him towards God as the center and meaning of his being. The author of The Cloud of Unknowing makes this statement about the experience of nothingness, self and sinfulness: Then will come a time when he recognizes in that nothingness no particular s'in but only the lump of sin itself which, though but a formless mass, is none other than himself; he sees that in himself it is the root and pain of original sin.a ; Rephrased for 6ur own time we might call this an understanding of the experience of self-worship, with the accompanying experience of this false self as the root of sin, darkness, emptiness and alienation. Our anonymous author also wrote that to feel one's own existence, which is'the content of our modern word "dread," is the greatest suffering possible. ". he alone understands the deep universal reason for sorrow who ex.periences that he is."4 It is more terrible than any other type or level Of experienced isolation and separation. Within the experience itself often comes the realization that this must be what hell is like. And with it also comes the temptation to despair at ever being healed or delivered from it and froha the burden of self. That we are as we are (separated existence) is the source of our deep anguish. The illusion that brings the agony is the failure to experience God in one's own being. Instead, one experiences his .being apart from God. For as often as he would have a true knowing and feeling of God in purity of spirit ¯. and then feels that he cannot--for he constantly finds his knowing and feeling as it were occupied and filled with h foul, stinking lump of himself., he almost despairs for the sorrow that he feels, weeping, lamenting, writhing, and blaming himself. In a word, he feels the burden of himself so tragically that he no longer cares about himself if only he can love God? This is the fundamental cause of this type of dread, though there are other corollaries and ramifications. The alienation that causes the anguish is more than a sense of being a useless, unnecessary, ephemeral being, and includes a profound experience of being separated from God, all men, and even from the self. This gives rise to acute feelings of insecurity, for not only can we not control God, we are even powerless to control or to be reconciled to ourselves. We discover we have nothing and are nothing by ourselves. This period of dread is a time when faith is seriously challenged (as is everything that has ultimate value and meaning in the Christian's life). The fear is great that faith will be lost or abandoned, and that the see,rningly absurd and meaningless, or even despair, will be embraced instead. The aThe Cloud of Unknowing and the Book of Privy Counseling, ed. by William Johnston (Garden City: Doubleday, 1973), p. 137. 41bid., p. 103. 5lbid., p. 104. Dread and Christian Transformation entire process of dread is a crucible of honesty, where truth is almost experienced as the enemy because of the pain it causes. One sees too clearly his own unfaithfulness and dishonesty in regard to Truth, especially as it involves the truth of his own life. The existentialists coined the phrase "bad faith" which is descriptive of the awareness that one is capable of, or has been living his life untruthfully, that one has not been true to God, to his fellow man or even to himself. One perceives that he may have been living contrary to the truth of his own call or condition. Indeed, truth itself is questioned. Old ideals and values lose their certainty. There is the suspicion that one may have set himself up as the standard of truth, or there is the temptation to do so if truth is not so certain for him. Deep down, far back in the mind there are demands or calls or possi-bilities that are only dimly and faintly recognized. Failure to respond to, or even examine them, haunts and produces a sense of failure and guilt. Somewhere there is a stubborn, defiant refusal to be all one can be. Every-thing feels illusory and slippery, and out of control, and this gives rise to panic. We "want out," we want to escape the condition, but we do not know what we want instead or where to go. The experience of rebellion and anger are overwhelming at times. We experience, too, a deep hatred for God and for ourselves. God is like a "monkey on our back"--an ever constant and annoying affliction that we cannot get rid of, Like Jeremiah we feel angry at being tricked and duped (20:7). This kind of relatedness to God is not at all what we expected. The spiritual understandings and com-forts of the past have vanished. We are comfortless. To pray is nearly impossible, if not impossible. Gone will be your new fervor, but gone, too, your ability to meditate as you had long done before. What then? You will feel as if you had fallen somewhere between the two ways having neither, yet grappling'for both.6 Not prayer, or mass, or confession, or any fulfillment of the "law" can take the dread away, or bridge the gap between God and the false self. The schism between this self and all that is seems infinite. The self is seen as bankrupt and barren, and the ha~-dness of heart, selfishness, and self-cen-teredness make us recoil in disgust and near despair. "I am gall, I am heartburn, God's most deep decree. Bitter would have me taste: my taste was me.''7 But still there is the clinging to the illusory false self for fear that if we let go of even that miserable possession we will have nothing and be nothing. God could not be so audacious as to demand that from us! Even though it is seen that this clinging to the false self causes our spiritual 6lbid., p. 143. 7Gerard Manley Hopkins, Poems and Prose of Gerard Manley Hopkins (Baltimore: Penguin Books, 1963), p. 62. 1~21~ / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/6 "sickness" and estrangement between God and self, still the all important, confused "I" remains th~ center of worship, and without the grace of God it can never be otherwise. The alienation is truly terrible, for it is not estrangement from the abstract, transcendent God of the philosophers, but is estrangement with the All and the ground of our own being. This point being re~iched in the ¯ dread of contemplative prayer, nothing is more terrible than the suffering of emptiness at the prospect of living without God, though the ambivalence of attraction and fear is again experienced--the proverbial "I can't live with him, and I can't live without him." At this point comes the temptation to believe that not even God can be what is needed, that not even he can fill the void, indeed, that he could not be the revelation of love of Jesus, but is instead, uncaring and disfant. "Wert thou my enemy, O thou my friend, how wouldst thou worse, I wonder, than thou dost?.-8 But there is a worse temptation. Maybe He does not exist at all;. and everything is meaningless. Though at first the struggle may be fierce and intense, strug-gling to fight back the chaos, finally one ". loses even the power to struggle._ _He feels himself ready to sink and drown in doubt and despair."9 Transformation While a description of dread needed to be set fo~-th, let us be reminded that this diminishment and apparently disintegrative condition is not the total picture, Much more is happening simultaneously. Does this most horrible of human experiences have a positive value for Christians? What is th,.e. "much more" that is happening? At bottom, it is all the mystery of the transforming cross, and since Christians are used to paradox, it should not be surprising that those who have come through dread speak of it as a "blessed gift." "God in his mercy protects the contemplative in this way, though some foolish neophytes will think he has turned enemy to them.''1° There are several approaches that can be taken in response to the process of dread. One can insulate himself from it by retreating into illu-sions of the world,, getting involved in society's concerns and structures, or in general, by just keeping busy and blocking out any interiority. Or, as many are saying today, one can escape it by "going through it." Thomas Merton wrote that the "chief service of the monk was not only silence, listening, and questioning, but was also b~ing open and exposed to dread."~ Those who are serious about their prayer and faith life, and gradual transformation into Christ, face, and even embrace, the crucible of dread, Slbid., p. 67. 9Merton, op. cit., p. 99. ~°The Cloud of Unknowing, p. 145. ~Merton, op. cit., p. 25. Dread and Christian Transformation / 829 and allow themselves to experience it totally. This is not done stoically. It is not done lightly. There is resistance, for Christians are not masochists; they always struggle against evil. It is the "If it is possible let this cup pass--not my will, but Yours" prayer of Jesus. Even the decision to go through this process is a mystery, and is often not even articulated at the conscious level. There is the sense of continually "letting go" and sub-mitring to the process and moving in the darkness and uncertainty, but if the question were put, "Why are you doing this?" probably no satisfactory answer could be given. This should not be a worry, and can be taken as a sign that it is an authentic transforming process, for it is not something we do to ourselves, rather it is something done to us with which we cooperate. It is the desert experience of the young Israel. Nothing is certain. Help, if it comes at all, comes only at the eleventh hour, barely in the nick of time. It is a period of trials and collapses. But it is the fruitful time of formation (as it was for Israel) and, it was, as it still is, the movement towards the Promised Land. There does not seem to be much of a choice once the process has started. It appears that God has forced us into a radical decision. (In The Book of Revelation he spits out the lukewarm.) We must make a choice. We are forced (as our existentialist writer, Kierkegaard, observed we would be). This makes us angry. We want to sit in the middle, but must choose the dread with its seemingly horrible emptiness and darkness (though we somehow s.uspect: accompanying growth and maturity) or withdraw and drop out of the process, letting ourselves become trapped in our own illusions and immaturity. Our Catholic tradition has always placed a value on suffering (more often than not a distorted value) and somewhere along the way we have all heard that this diminishment is a necessary factor in spiritual growth. If it is the authentic process, and not a pseudo one that we bring or put on ourselves, this can be so, and our faith can be deepened. Merton must be read in context, but he also puts it this way, ". full maturity of the spiritual life cannot be reached unless we first pass through the dread, anguish, trouble, and fear that accompany the inner crisis of spiritual death, where we abandon attachment to our exterior self and surrender completely to Christ.''12 Attributes of Transformation It is time to take up a description of the attributes that the transformation process of dread can accomplish. It brings about many spiritual benefits and new dispositions. Since it threatens faith, it also changes it and deepens it. The doubt and despair serve to purify faith and destroy some of the more human elements of it (i.e., the need for certainty, and a correspondence to t2lbid., p.110. Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/6 one's way of looking at reality, etc.). It is not what it was before. It takes on new dimensions and powers. We can finally experience the very "dearest freshness deep down" of things that Hopkins wrote of in his poem "God's Grandeur." Some time during the process of dread we become more comfortable with it, i.e., with the uncertainty, darkness and emptiness. The dread has moved us mysteriously beyond the need for consolations or gratification of immediate desires, or need to control what is. The process has the power to radically alter attitudes, and once the person has been emptied and humbled through this process that is beyond his control, he can be filled with Christ-like attitudes. His stance before God can include such attributes as opennes, s, pliableness, purity of heart, dependence, defenselessness, emptiness, hopefulness, truthfulness and gratitude. One becomes receptive to the fullness of God through the process. As was mentioned earlier, it is definitely not a time to be trying to regain self-possession, nor is it a time to be making new resolutions. However, it is a time of surrender and a time of letting go of the control and direction of one's life, and of giving it trustingly into the hands of the Lord who has been in charge of the process all ~along. It is the moment to depend only on him and his grace. Again, the experience of dread forces honesty.'It makes us evaluate our commitments and motives and beliefs at a much deeper level. It surfaces questions to ask ourselves that we could not have asked before. It is a blessed time when we come to encounter our real selves, to get to know that person we truly are. It also destroys false conceptions of God, and reveals him as he is in himself. The authentic process reveals sham and posturing. It gets us down to rock bottom. It does not allow hypocrisy, and false religiosity. It makes clear our illusions, idolatries and addictions. It is the experience of being the broken clay pot, for it takes awhy our sense of self-possession or assurance. And though we can often be worried that the dread takes us only more deeply into ourselves, or gets us caught up in the trap of constantly taking our own emotional and spiritual pulses, in the end, the process takes us out of ourselves. The experience, in dread, of alienation becomes trans-formed into a great recognition, need and desire for reconciliation and union with God and our fellow man. It is said that God tests those he loves. This is scarcely of any comfort in the darkest hours of dread, and it is in no way adequate for describing the mystery of the process, but there is some truth to it. The process is a gift of God's enigmatic mercy, and it is God's work, not ours. (In the more traditional vocabulary it is known as passive purification.) Only the false self is destroyed and emptied, but to make room for the Christ-self. Re-men~ ber, we are not masochists or stoics or manicheans--but Christians, for whom each individual, including the self, is precious, not evil. But the true Christ-self cannot be happy or full apart from God, and it is the process Dread and Christian Transformation of dread that intensifies and deepens this realization. The Paschal Mystery is the dialectic that accomplishes this. Thomas Merton writes, This alternation of darkness and light can constitute a kind of dialogue between the Christian and God, a dialectic that brings us deeper and deeper to the conviction that God is our all. By such alternations we grow in detachment and in hope.~3 Our anonymous writer of The Cloud of Unknowing teaches that this is God's way of preparing, educating, and forming us through the alternation of hiS presence and absence. "As often as he goes, he will come back. And if you will suffer itall with gentle love, ea+h coming will be more marvelous and more joyful than the last.''14 In the process, doubt becomes faith. Despair becomes hope. The chaos and confusion become liberating and freeing. Hatred and anger mellow to gratitude and love. Rebellion becomes surrender. Peace comes in the com-mitment of the self to the loving will of God, and in the death of the false self comes the resurrection of the new Christ-self. The language and purpose of contemplative ~lread has a Pauline cast to it. The dread becomes the process in which the incomplete, false self dies so that the true self can come to be. It is "terrible" as the author of The Cloud of Unknowing calls it, but it is the work of love, nonetheless. The false old self dies, but this can be a joyous death for the Christian, for it is really the fulness of being. Therefusal to participate in this "work of love" results in a self that remains separated and isolated from the ground of its be!ng, God. To choose the destruction of the false self is necessary for the life of the true, resurrected self. It is to reject the illusions of the idolatry of the self. It is to truly believe at last that one is only himself when he is in union with God. "This simple awareness of my being is all I desire, even though it must bring with it the painful burden of self and make my heart break with weeping because I experience only self and not God. I prefer it with its pain., for this suffering will set me on fire with the loving desire to experience God as he really is.''15 Thus the author of The Cloud of Unknowing realizes that the suffering he.endures is really not hell at all "but his purgatory,.''16 He instructs the reader to not be troubled if his emotions or imagination tempt him to give up, for the prize is near. He asks simpl3i that a gift of the self be made as it is, to God as he is. Further, he counseis that there is no need, no matter ho.w it seems, for fear or panic or discoiaragement. His understanding is that it is a time to suffer humbly, waiting patiently in trust. For we do not know what is best for ourselves, but God, in his love and mercy, uses dread to bring us to his fuiness. God is audacious for us, and the process is nothing less than a total metamorphosis. "Now you are on what I might call a sort ~albid., p. 35. t4The Cloud of Unknowing, p. 184. 151bid., p. 174. ~lbid., p. 137. ~132 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/6 of spiritual ocean, in voyage from the rife of the flesh to the life in the spirit."~7 Though the author of The Cloud of Unknowing refers to this dread as a "hell of purgatory," a twelfth-century Cistercian monk, Isaac of Stella, refers .to it as a "hell of mercy." This is an even more powerful and rich notion. Here I quote the passage surrounding the idea of the "hell of mercy," for it very much embodies the reason and purpose of dread, that is, to destroy the false self, so that the Christ-self can be resurrected, and receive God himself. It also makes clear the concept of purification, not as punishment, but as a gift and work of Love. This passage must be read in the context of the total Christian dimension of diminishment and restora-tion, of cross but resurrection. It is too powerful and beautiful to para-phrase, so I leave it as it was written: "So let us be cruel and harsh for ourselves. I mean for the exterior man, so that we not offend the judge of both the interior and exterior man. If we accuse ourselves in all truth; if we judge ourselves with severity; if we condemn ourselves in harshness, we will not have to fear another accuser; nor will we have to be afraid to meet or confront another judge, or to have to endure or submit ourselves to another chastiser. What do we look for--pleasure or rest? We are on the cross. Or rather, we were in the world; we are in hell-- but a hell of mercy, not of wrath; we shall be in heaven. In the world, we sinned; here, we make atonement; there, we shall rest. There, we were in pleasures; here, in pain and tribulation; there, we will be in glory. There, we were in the dirt; here, we are in purification; there, we shall be in peace. "So let the Father be the Father of our souls and the chastiser of our bodies. Be he the Father of the Son of God in us. Be he the one who feeds and nourishes, the pedagogue and teacher, as long as childhood lasts, for him who i~ the future heir, and who as son, will dwell in his house forever. Be he for the son of man (man) theone who bruises and who humiliates, the one who betrays and seduces, the one who takes everything away, the one who crucifies and buries. If he neglects to act this way towards us, let us be ourselves the murderers of the son of man (man), but feeders and nurturers of the Son of God within us, so that he grow and become un-surpassed, or, as the apostle says, until Christ is formed in us, and we attain the perfect man in the fullness of Christ, who with the Father and Spirit reigns forever.''~8 In this same vein, though.from a different age and manner of expression, Thomas Merton also sums up the real value of dread, "The purpose of the dark night., is not simply to punish and afflict the heart of man, but to liberate, to purify and to eialighten in perfect love. The way that leads through dread goes not to despair but to perfect joy, not to hell but to heaven."19 171bid., p. 184. 181saac de L'Etoile, Sermons (Paris, 1974). pp. 148, 150, 152. ~aMerton, op. cit., p. 110. Celibate Friendship: Illusion and Reality Thomas Dubay, S.M. Father Dubay, well known to our readers, presently devotes his time to lectures, retreats and chapter consultations for religious and priests. He resides at the Marist Administration Center; 4408 8th St., N.E.; Washington, DC 20017. No finite reality is adequately understood except in terms of its context. Even the God of revelation presents himself in Scripture in the context of a created world. The individual person is understood against the back-ground of his family, and social problems are evaluated in terms of the milieu in which they occur. A sentence is grasped only within its paragraph and the paragraph within the entire article. The classical example of this truth is the biblical statement, "there is no God." This is understood only with the words that precede it: "the fool says in his heart that . " Celibate friendship can be understood only in terms of a complete pic-ture of the raison d'6tre of celibate dedication. To discuss this way of life without a previous consideration of its primary orientation (which can be known only from Revelation) is to present a truncated account, almost necessarily an illusory account. The Usual Explanation The popular explanation of friendship in religious life is likely to begin with our modern and improved understanding of human sexuality. It goes on to say that while there was in bygone days an undue repression both of the reality and its open discussion, we now see a positive worth beyond that of procreation and we freely share our views about the matter. This may be followed by the basically favorable view of sex that we find in the Bi-ble-- even though anything approaching an adequate discussion of virginity 1~34 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/6 in the New Testament is omitted. At this point we arb likely to meet a disapproving look into the patristic and medieval literatures. Next the writer or speaker may direct attention to contemporary theories of sexuality as they may be applied to the celibate condition. Little or no attention is given to the revealed context of consecrated virginity. Instead we may find a mixture of undoubted truths ("the two sexes are complementary") with less secure statements (physical signs of affection [no limits mentioned] are normal between celibates) and even clearly .false ones ("there is no vocation to celibacy, only that to Christian life"). The legitimacy of celibate friendship is then supported and illustrated by the classical examples of Jordan and Diana, Catherine and Raymond, Jane and Francis. In this usual explanation there will be words of caution, for not anything at all is acceptable behavior. Yet the limits are not clear and some people carry away from the discussion the impression that occasional serious sin ought not to disturb the two friendsunduly, that such is the price of an enriching relationship. Celibate men and women need to mature in their relationships so that they can "handle" their emotional reactions. Religious and priests differ, of course, intheir evaluations of this typical discussion of celibate friendships. Some are highly critical, others are favorably impressed. My own reactions are mixed. Ican identify with some of the ideas in these presentations, but I also find serious shortcomings. There is often a lack of theological accuracy and of a realistic assessment of the human situation. There may be insufficient contact with the biblical word and, especially, there is no adequate context. Celibate friendships are seen as though celibacy itself were chiefly a matter of interhuman rela-tionships and apostolic freedom. Here, as elsewhere in human life, faulty premises yield faulty conclusions. The Celibate Context As a dedicated ~vay of life, a permanent ideal embraced for the King-dom, consecrated virginity/celibacy~ appears for the first time.on the face of the earth in the persons of Mary and her Son. It is a 'theological ~eality in the etymological sense of that word: its meaning is found only in God and it can be known only from his lips. Although they may be helpful in an ancillary way, psychology and sociology of themselves know nothing of consecrated celibacy. The celibate is grasped by the Lord God in a manner so radically new that his whole life undergoes a basic reorientation. All men and women are to be oriented toward God as their raison d'etre, but most reach him q shall use the two terms interchangeably even though strictly speaking they do differ. In every case the adjective, consecrated or dedicated, is supposed. Virginity is the preferred biblical term, while celibacy enjoys common modern usage. Celibate Friendship: Illusion and Reality through the intimate and human sharing called marriage. The celibate on the other hand omits this sharing in order to respond to another more deeply intimate and divine sharing. Even one who may not be able to see the ¯ significance of these profoundly mysterious words can readily perceive their fundamental radicality. It is this fundamental radicality that must be grasped before we can understand what friendship should and should not be between celibate persons of the same or diverse sexes. Until we know how these persons relate to God we do not grasp how they relate to one another. Without this context, discussions of friendship are not likely to be on a much more elevated level than those of the syndicated advice columns found in the daily newspaper. Virginity, a Privileged Sphere of the Sacred Virginity is a vocation, a new vocation, a privileged vocation. To ap-preciate this fact we must refresh out understanding of the biblical concept ofqadosh, the holy, the sacred. We moderns tend to equate the word, holy, with virtuous. For us the holy person is the morally good person: patient, chaste, gentle, honest. For the ancient Hebrew, ttie "holy" is the set-apart person or thing. One was consecrated, holy, not primarily because he was virtuous (though that would be supposed), but because he was reserved for the service of the Lord God. All holiness derives from the utterly holy One. God is totally trans-cendent, totally other, even though entirely immanent in his creation. One becomes holy in this sense when he approaches the burning otherness of the Lord, when he is therefore set apart from the ordinary, the everyday, the merely finite. God's people, for example, are a holy people because they are selected from all the nations of the earth and set apart for him. This is the sense of 1 P 2:9: "You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a consecrated nation, a people set apart to sing the praises of God who called you out of the darkness into his wonderful light." Continence was practiced in the old dispensation before a priest par-ticipated in the temple liturgy or soldiers went off to the holy war (which shared something of a liturgical enterprise), not because sexual relations in marriage were bad, but because they were of the humdrum, ordinary life. Sexual intercourse was avoided at these times because it was of t, his world, whereas the priest or soldier was to enter the sacred sphere of Yahweh. He was to engage in something qadosh, holy,set apart, and thus he prepared himself by removing himself from the everyday occupations of marriage and daily life. When ther(fore, St. Paul speaks of the virgin as being holy in body and spirit he is not talking first of all of her moral goodness, though that is not excluded. He is saying that she, unlike the married woman or man, is set apart for the sacred sphere of the Lord God. As a virgin she need not be concerned with the dozens of duties that are the normal round for a wife 836 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/6 who cares for husband, children, household. She can give "undivided attention to the Lord" insofar as she is not burdened with the concern for this world that is necessarily entailed in familial duties and sexual relations. By calling the virgin holy, qadosh, St. Paul is not saying that she is virtuous while the married woman is not. Both are to be morally good. The dif-ference is that, as married, the one lives in the sphere of this world, while the other lives in the sphere of the Lord. This language and thought pattern are expressed by Jesus himself in his priestly prayer at the Last Supper. He says that neither he nor his select disciples are of this world (Jn 17:14, 16). He "consecrates" himself, makes himself holy, set apart, so that they too may be set apart in the truth (Jn 17:19). Jesus belongs to the privileged sphere of the Father in a preeminent way. He is reserved for the Father alone and so he declined an earthly marriage. His food was to do the will of the Father and nothing else (Jn 4:34). He could not have given the attention to this world that marriage requires. The celibate is celibate precisely as Jesus was and for the same reasons. The celibate, the virgin is a man or woman who, while living on planet earth and involved with its joys and sorrows, its hopes and burdens, is none-theless a person set apart. He belongs to the sphere of the transcendent, which is the sphere of the infinite, the other, the Lord God. This is one reason magisterial documents indicate that the primary orientation of re-ligious life is not engagement in an external apostolate but rather prayer, penance, gospel example.2 The religious vows afford a freedom for uni-versal love and apostolic involvement, yes, but that freedom is second to a prior freedom for a direct love-prayer relationship to God himself. The first commandment remains first, and the second remains second. Celibacy, an Excluding Fullness3 Celibacy for the kingdom (the only type we envision here) is not first of all non-marriage. It is a fullness in its own right. In a similar manner the earthly marriage of Susan to Philip is not first of all a non-marriage to Robert or William. A religious or priest does not see his consecration at all ade-quately until it appears as a positive fullness in its own right. The person with the celibate charism has been grasped by the Lord for a special, direct relationship. God takes the initiative and so orientates this person that he (she) "cannot" give a marital attention to another human being. The authentically married person experiences a similar "cannot" in relation to others than his spouse. The married man could physically attempt marriage to another woman than his wife but it would do violence to his being. The ~See Christus Dominus #33 and Renovationis causam, 4~2. aA more complete treatment of this section may be found in my article, "Celibacy As Full-ness," REWEW VOR REL~C~Ot~S, January, 1975, pp. 88-100. Celibate Friendship: Illusion and Reality / 83? celibate could likewise attempt marriage but it would do violence to his person. God so captures the genuine virgin that she cannot but focus her being on the Lord's affairs and give him her undivided attention. In spiritual direction of religious one sees instances where this cannot is completely obvious. Virginity/celibacy is an exclusive God-orientation, a focusing on "the one thing," a fullness in its own right. From this positive reality flows the negative, the non-marriage. The healthy celibate appreciates and values the beauty, attractiveness, goodnesses of the opposite sex, but he appreciates and values even more the immeasurably greater beauty, attractiveness and goodness of God himself. The virginal heart is a large heart, a heart so large that earthly marriage cannot fill it. Erroneous Premises Many, perhaps most, significant differences among religious in recent years are fundamentally due to widely different presuppositions. An ob-vious example is one's ecclesiology. If one person wholly embraces the ecclesiology of Vatican Council II and another that of liberal Protestantism, ¯ it can hardly be surprising that they entertain basically different notions of what religious life is. Whatever one thinks about celibate friendships, it is quite certain that his thoughts stem from underlying premises. We may be aware or unaware of the explicit forms of those premises, but there is no doubt that we have them. A good tree produces good fruit and a bad tree produces bad fruit (Mt 7:17). Sound premises, roots, produce sound conclusions (provided the rest of the reasoning process is correct) and faulty premises produce faulty conclusions. Some of our problems in the area of celibate friendships are the presuppositions. It is no doubt worthy of note that not a few of these presuppositions are departures from Catholic teaching. I shall mention here several of these erroneous premises. This is not the place to develop my observations at length. Anyone moderately versed in theology will recognize that with some of them we are dealing with re-jections of the teachings of the Church. After we have cleared the air we shall sketch positively what a beautiful celibate friendship is like. First, the faulty premises. 1 .) "Close celibate relationships have no significant connection with the quality of prayer life." If a connection is supposed, little is made of it. The writer or speaker seems quite unaware of the primary orientation of vir-ginity to prayer, and he makes little of the tie-up between depth of prayer and the reality of friendship. The latter he seems to think ¯is simply a psychological matter which is quite accessible to human reason. 2.) "Genuine love between the sexes is common and easy to come by." We may note about this premise that psychologists themselves point out on purely natural grounds that a capacity for genuine love between the sexes is rare. Even more to our purposes is the teaching of the New Testament 1~31~ / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/6 that the new Christic love is naturally impossible, not simply rare. Only if we have been emptied of our maze of selfishnesses and converted by the eternal Word of God and born into his new life can we love others sincerely (1 P 1:22-23). Popular discussions of celibate sexuality seem not to know this. This is a fatal error. 3.) "The religious vocation may be temporary, and hence dating may rightly lead to marriage." I have not seen one sound psychological or theological argument among the many produced in recent years to support the theory of temporary vocation. This is not the place to trace out the solid case for permanent vocation. It may suffice for our purposes simply to state that the Catholic Church all through her history has held that the vocation to the counsels is permanent. 4.) "Genital sexual activity in celibate life is not nece.ssarily repre-hensible." Hence, those who hold this premise feel masturbation, intimate touches between friends, perhaps even sexual intercourse are not always wrong. It may be sufficient to note about this position that most people find it shocking, and that it entails a rejection of a large portion of Catholic sexual morality. One wonders what founders and foundresses would have said about these thoughts of their spiritual children. 5.) "Marriage and celibacy are of equal effectiveness in freeing for the kingdom." This premise is a rejection of Jesus' and Paul's teaching (Lk 18:29-30; 1 Co 7:32-38), as exegetes who have no axe to grind readily point out. The premise is of course also a rejection of the teaching of the Council of Trent and that of Vatican Council II. 6.) "The religious woman should display her femininity, or, as one writer put it, she should look 'sexy' " (in some sense he did not define). Only one who is innocent of real life (what, for example, many men are likely to think and say of this type of "virgin"), would make this sort of statement. One may wonder here, too, what our best examples of deepest feminine beauty would think of this idea: Agnes, Agatha~ Catherine of Siena. Teresa of Avila, Maria Goretti and a host of others. 7.) ,"Almost any friendship between a celibate man and woman is to be viewed as similar to those between saints." Merely to advert to the sen-tence is to see how untrue it is. No comment is needed. Signs of Genuine Friendship Even the most uncommitted scholar, well informed in the area of saints and canonization processes, will agree that the Church does not place her seal of approval on any celibate friendship. This undebatable fact suggests that there are significant differences between the holy and the unholy re-lationship. One may, if he wishes, introduce a third category, the "spiri-tually neutral" friendship, i.e., one in which there is no obviously sinful activity and yet in it no one would be inclined to consider either party especially saintly. It may be doubted in at least many cases whether such a "neutral friendship" would long remain merely neutral. It is likely that it Celibate Friendship: Illusion and Reality will either slowly dissolve or become more or less unholy. We humans are like that. I shall consider here the signs of the genuine friendship. If some readers are inclined to question these signs, I ask only one favor: read the lives of the saints and then judge whose position reflects their attitudes and prac-tice. All of us ordinary people are subject to error. In matters like this we are inclined either to exaggerate the gospel or to dilute it. And being sinners, ,most of us are far, more likely to dilute than to exaggerate. I trust that no one of us is so arrogant as to suppose that he knows better than the saints how the gospel is to be lived in concrete life. Their lives have the authentic seal of the Church upon them and ours do not. This is no slight difference. We may take it as a general norm that a genuine friendship is immersed in God, honestly immersed in him. It is a living of the universal Pauline principle that whatever we do, eating, drinking or anything else, we do to the glory of God (1 Co 10:31). This is easy to say in the morning offering but it is"not easy to live. Nevertheless I am supposing here that celibate friend-ship is a love of the Holy Spirit and as such is immersed in Jesus' love for all men and women. In a sense it is a participation in that love: "Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus" (Jn 11:5). Every celibate is to love as he loved. In that way and in no other. Honesty here is not easy. The first sign of this honest authenticity is that God not only was, but remains the first concern of each party to the friendship. It is not siinply that God was once upon a time their prime concern when they engaged in spiritual direction ora common apostolic enterprise. Right now he is their chief love. They would do nothing, absolutely nothing to displease him or to divide their hearts. This implies that each person is a man or woman of deep prayer. They take contemplative prayer seriously and are at least growing in it. They are not content with vocal prayer alone, even the excellent vocal prayer of the Liturgy, of the Hours. We can see why this sign is crucial when we recall the context of celibacy we considered above. Religious and priests who do not really understand their vocation and love it deeply are hardly capable of celibate friendship. This may be a funda-mental reason why some of the writing and speaking on this subject is so defective: it lacks roots and orientation. The second sign is a growing commitment to the celibate gift. God is a God of fidelity and he expects fidelity in us. The celibate charism is given permanently, not for a few years. Both the charism and a genuine friendship are gifts of the one Holy Spirit. He does not contradict himself. He who gives the permanent gift of celibacy does not then turn around0and chip away at it in a relationship between possessors of the gift. Hence if a priest and/or religious begin seriously to consider a dispensation from vows and possible marriage, the love is no longer a love of the Holy Spirit. The spiritual life is one integrated whole. It hangs together. A beautiful friend-ship strengthens chastity, perfect chastity. It prompts each party to want the celibate dedication more strongly and to be entirely faithful to it. 840 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/6 The third sign is non-exclusiveness, non-possessiveness. It is true that the universal love of the virgin does not mean that she (he) does not love individual persons. No one is to love others only as a kind of global mass. Like all others the celibate is to love unique individuals, but unlike the married he loves without exclusiveness. Marital love is possessive, but celibate love is not. Marital love as marital centers on one person and one alone, even though the married are to love others with a general love. Celibate love as celibate is universal, and a deep friendship with one in-dividual does not erase celibate universality. This is why a Teresa of Avila would be happy to know that Jerome Gratian has another deep, close friend. She does not love him possessively, exclusively. A religious or priest who resents another close friend lacks something of the love of the Holy Spirit. Our next sign is closely allied to the previous one. Genuine friendship promotes universal warmth. Not only is there no exclusivity or posses-siveness, but each party finds that he goes out more warmly to all people. Cordiality, warmth, helpfulness is not reserved to one's friend. This person lives the Pauline admonition to the Romans, "treat everyone with equal kindness" (Rm 12:16). Friends ought not to assume easily that they are living this admonition. It takes a great deal of detachment, self-emptying, to go out as warmly to others as to a special friend. We may recall that 1 P 1:22-23 taught that authentic love in community requires a conversion. And we ought not too easily suppose we have been thoroughly converted. Afinal sign is that in authentic celibate friendship the frequency and length of visits are limited. I shall not cite quantitative limits, but I may say that a man or woman of prayer knows instinctively what is too much in the area of time spent together and what is too much in the area of signs of affection. Again one need only think of the saints. Normal men and women who spend too much time together or are too demonstrative in their af-fection soon have a chastity problem. The Need-Relationship Experience indicates that when many young religious find themselves close to another person they quite automatically consider the closeness to be love. This is especially true of young women. When before too many months or years pass the closeness slowly vanishes, they are not only surprised, but sometimes crushed. Many of these relationships are nothing more than need relationships. One individual finds another to be attractive, interested, concerned. And perhaps the other finds the first to be such also. Then one or both find that the other answers real needs for attention, security, warmth, sharing of problems, pains, aspirations. They are close ¯ because needs are being met. This need-relationship is not necessarily bad. But it is not yet love. Love does not dissipate in time. A mere need-friendship does dissipate when the need disappears or is met by another person. Celibate Friendship: Illusion and Reality / We annot emphasize too strongly what we noted above as the opinion of psychologists, namely, that a capacity for genuine love between the sexes is rare. Need-closeness is not rare. Love is. Real love demands I. conversion, being born of the word of the everlasting God. This is why ¯ genmne celibate friendship happens only when deepening prayer happens. This islanother reason, too, why some recent writings on celibate sexuality are so superficial and consequently misleading. / Implications //We are now prepared to suggest implications that flow from our dis-cUssion. of context, premises and signs. Some religious may well be sur- Jprised that I feel it necessary to indicate these implications so plainly. While others who are well aware of our situation may be saddened, they will not be surprised. Our first consequence is that there is no such thing as a valid "third way," namely some sort of combination of celibacy and marriage, that is, physical closeness and intimacy without marital commitment. It should be said, of course, that what has been meant by the third way is itself a fuzzy spectrum of relationships all the way from dubious friendships to uncom-mitted sexual intercourse. And, it may be noted, this spectrum of rela-tionships has itg defenders from one end of it to the other. Why do I say that there is no such thing as a third way? There are two clear vocations on this score, marriage and celibacy/virginity. A third, marital-virginity, is an illusion. The whole twenty-century history of Christian virginity has seen deep friendships and profound love, but the Church has never set her stamp of approval on a third way. A least acquaintance with the saints makes this clear. Further, one need only review all that has been said thus far in this article. None of it remotely suggests a third way. Our second implication concerns dating. I have found that a religious and a priest who go out to dinner socially together (or share some other recreation) are likely to object to calling the engagement a date. I am not at this point overly concerned about the semantics of the matter, but I may note that these people for some odd reason resist terminology commonly accepted in our day. Almost everyone calls this kind of outing between two unmarried people a date. Whatever the name, this practice has its ardent defenders. It is not simply something done through mistaken judgment and then regretted, That it often ends up in marriage is not surprising. (And that this is a normal, good consequence is also defended.) What is wrong about all this? A number of things. First, the celibate charism is a permanent gift. One who has accepted the gift through vow is to honor his commitment. Vows are to be k~pt. The celibate may not marry, and he ought not to put himself in circumstanc'es that normally lead to marriage. If one responds by thinking or saying, "I have no intention to marry and there is no danger in our dating," I would answer that if the two ~142 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/6 persons are normal and persist in their relationship they are going to have a chastity problem. If they are not normal, they already have a problem. Then there is the question of scandal. One writer, admitting that many people in our society are scandalized in seeing religious and priests dating, expiessed the hope that one day our fellow citizens would come to see that a man and a woman can go out together with some other purpose than an eventual genital relationship. To be more clear, I think he should have said that he hopes the ordinary man and woman of our day will come to see that a platonic friendship is a likely explanation~ of why a priest and sister may date. This hope is naive. Anyone familiar with our sex-saturated world recognizes that this "likely explanation" is becoming more and more re-mote. I have met aremarkable woolliness of thought on this score of scandal. A sister will maintain that if people see anything wrong in her going out to dinner with a man, that is their problem, not hers. They must, she thinks, have unchaste minds to think of anything else of a platonic or merely business relationship. This view is innocent of reality in two. ways. The first innocence regards the types of scandal~. There is such a thing as pharisaical scandal, namely, that which people take when there is no least reasonable basis for it. This kind we may disregard. The other is what we usually mean, namely, when our action is such that in the normal understanding of.people there is basis for seeing something amiss in it. This kind we may not disregard. And this leads us to the second innocence in this woolly view. The person who holds it seems unaware that in our contemporary society a man and woman who.go out together are ordinarily viewed as either a) married, b) thinking of possible marriage remotely or proximately with this person or some other or c) doing something together but only as a part of a genital sexual relationship. It is. true that many people would admit that the two may have only a platonic interest in each other, but that is not the likely understanding of why they date. Now if th, ese people are scandalized when they see two consecrated celibates dating, their scandal is not pharisaical, that is, without solid basis in normal society. They ought not to judge that the two have sinned or plan to, but they are not wrong in think!ng what I have expressed in the above (a), (b), (c) sentence. It is important to notice about this scandal matter that people need not be sure that there is sexual sin between dating religious. Scandal is given if suspicions are aroused through a normal understanding that there may indeed be something amiss. The work of priests and religious for the king-dom is seriously undermined if people begin to think they are leading double lives, posing public!y as celibates and privately living as married or some-thing approaching this. The Church is severely damaged by suspicions like these. Priests and religious have no right to furnish a basis for them. We may be reminded of the splendid example of St. Paul. He refused :to scandalize "the weak" (i.e., those with erroneous consciences about eating Celibate Friendship." llluMon and Reality food offered to idols) even though what he was doing was perfectly per-missible[ He does not callously say "that is their problem." Rather he remarkslthat Christ died'for this weak brother and Paul will never cause his ruin. "That is why," says the apostle, "since food can be the occasion of t my brother's downfall, I shall never eat meat again in case I am the cause of my br~other s downfall (1 Co 9:7-13)¯ Dedicated religious have this same sensitivity. In no way will they sow the seeds of suspicion in the minds of their bro~thers and sisters, whether the latter be weak or strong. Our ~inal implication bears on maturity, chronological and spiritual, in ~ts bearl.ng on the question of deep cehbate friendship. If one reviews what we havelsaid about the context and signs of a beautiful relationshihpe, will easily see" a problem: are young religious, priests, seminarians really de-veloped/ enough, psychologically and spiritually, to be capable of what we are talking' about? It goes without saying that no one can cite a mathematical norm oriage at which people are mature enough to enter upon more than a mere ne, ed-relationship. In any event young people should remember that ¯ a capacity for genuine love among all age groups is not common and they . ought not to be easily persuaded that they themselves are already so capa- . ble. Young people especially are prone to mere need-relationships which they m~stakenly interpret as love. I am not saying that the young cannot love genmnely. But I am saying that no one, young or old, can love w~thout hawng Been converted¯ And no one loves deeply w~thout deep conversion. Thislis why prayer is absolutely crucial to the whole question of celibate friendsliip.' Those who write and speak about this matter and pay scant ¯ I . attention to the prayer-context are s~mply bypassing the core ~ssue. Vt r-ginity f~r Christ has' depths of which psychology has not dreamed. That man or woman alone is capable of a deep friendship who is already deeply (or at least is growing in depth) in communion with the source of all love, the God who is love. Preparation for New Ministries: A Futuristic View Mary Vincentia Joseph, M.~.B.T. and Carla Przybilla, O.S.F. Sister Mary Vincentia is Assistant Professor at the National Catholic School of Social Service; the Catholic University of America; Washington, DC 20064. Sister Carla is Executive Director of the National Religious Formation Conference; 1330 Massachusetts Ave., N.W.; Washington, DC 20005. The authors wish to acknowledge and thank Rev. Ladislas Orsy, S.J., for reviewing this article and for his helpful comments. The whole future of the Earth, as of religion, seems to me to depend on the awakening of our faith in the future. Teilhard de Chardin Today, with the growing consciousness of the personhood of woman and with the re-structuring of her roles in both society and in the Church, women religious are providing leadership in spearheading and developing new and exciting ministries designed to meet rapidly changing social needs. There appears to be a new perspective, based on a model of collaboration and interdependence, which captures both identity and purpose, while at the same time engaging in a dialogical process with the world. This vibrant movement, in response to the needs of people, and within the context of the charismatic beginnings of religious communities, is not only transforming the forms of ministry of women religious in the United States, but is also impacting on the orientation and style of preparation required for ministries of the future. The future however, is in the present. A futuristic view of ministry requires preparation for today's demands. We are living in a time of such 844 Preparation for New Ministries: A Futuristic View / !i45 accelerat ~d change that it is estimated that people will undergo retraining ~ . for occup, at~onal needs many times during a lifetime. Not only will many religious have to re-tool for today's work but a totally new orientation will be necess,ary to respond appropriately to ever-changing needs. Professional schools, i,n their socialization processes, are emphasizing education geared to the self-directed learner, preparing the adult learner for a major constant in our culture--social change. In the helping professions this means creat-ing a readiness to handle continuous and rapid change as well as skill in generating new models of helping. Incorporated within this orienting frame is the closely related concept of monitoring and assessing service effect¯ iveness. Has this trend fully impacted on religious communities, in their socialization processes and in preparation for second careers? Cer-tainly, it has influenced a number in their approaches to ministry. More still have to ~ confront this major dynamic influencing the mission of the Church in moder~n society. It vitally touches every area of "personpower": re-cru~ tment policies, qualifications needed for the various service modalities, the capacity to ~ntegrate the spiritual and rehg~ous dimensions m service, and the tra~mng modaht~es for new m~mstnes. What are the personal re-quiremedts necessary to meet new and changing situations? A look at the emergln.g~ forms of mlmstnes may provide some answers. As Rahner states, ttiese new models of service, similar to the secular professions, are concretelexpressions of the spiritual and corporal works of mercy.~ The p~urpose' of this article is to examine the developing forms of min-istry of women religious and to consider their implications for the so-c~ ahzat~on processes, e.g. the formation programs of religious congrega-tions as ~well as for re-tooling for new and re-focused careers. An attempt also wiillbe made to provide an organizing schema, a conceptual frame-work, to,~ analyze the major components of these socialization processes within a [context of future needs. The data presented here were collected during the preliminary phase of ¯ a larger study which is underway on the new careers of women religious, related areas of role conflict, and coping styles utilized in conflict resolu-tion. 2 Thlis first phase, a survey of 367 religious congregations of women in the United States, sought to locate the population of religious in new works, that is, ~n works which were new to their congregations.3 Communities ~Karl Rahner. "'Practical Theology and Social Work in the Church," Theological Inves-tigations, ~/ol. 10, translated by David Bourke (New York: Herder and Herder, 1973), pp. 267-68. I , 2This study is being conducted by Sister Mary Vincentia Joseph, M.S.B.T. with the Nationa~ Religious Formation Conference, Washington, D.C. Sister Mary Vincentia developed the research design and Stster Carla processed the data for this preliminary phase. The article was written by the former and the final version was completed jointly. 3The istin~ of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious, which included major supe-riors of 367icongregations, was used for the mailing. The time-frame of the survey was summer to fall, 1976. 1~46 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/6 were asked, in an open-ended format, to indicate the new ministry of each sister. There was a 94.60% rate of response which would seem to indicate, along with the many supportive statements, a high level of interest among religious communities in this area. A total of 5,892 religious was reported by their communities to be engaged in new works. ¯ Although this survey was not intended to be an exhaustive study, it was rich in information on developing works among sisters. The data, therefore, were analyzed and classified into broad categories of ministry. These findings would seem to have value in that they provide an empirical base, suggesting future directions and rough indicators for some future projec-tions. New ministries, as used here,, refer to forms which were new to religious communities. In considering the findings, it is important to note that a number of communities indicated that they have no new works, that their congregations have always been involved in what many consider new directions. The non-r~spondent group may also be composed of those who have consistently been involved in what is considered new by religious today. For example, in a recent study on sister social workers profession-ally educated in the United States during the period 1962 to 1972, forty-six sisters or the largest, number trained in any religious community were members of the Missionary Servants of the Most Blessed Trinity.4 None of these, however, are reflected.in the findings discussed here since social work is traditional apostolate of this community. Similarly, the large num-ber of sisters in this community, and in a few others, in parish work is not represented in the data since, historically, these communities have been engaged in this type of work. New Forms of Ministry The proportion of women religious in the broad categories of ministry are shown in Table 1. This typology follows the familiar classification of works according to the fields of health, education, and welfare (here termed social ministry). Other emerging forms of ministry did not fit neatly into these general categories and, therefore, were presented separately. Parish work, for .example, which involves a plurality of ministries, crosses the categorical boundaries of health, education, and social ministry. A special category was constructed for the spiritual ministries which have been in-creasing over the past few years. They clearly represent a cluster of spiritual and religious functions (such as directed retreats and prayer movements) generally performed in Church-related structures rather than in exclusively non-ecclesial settings. Similarly, supportive Church-related 4Sister Mary Vincentia Joseph, A Study ~of Self-Role Congruence and Role-Role Congruence on the Integration of the Religious Role and the Social Work Role of the Sister Social Worker. Unpublished DSW dissertation, the Catholic University of America, Washington, D.C. 1974, p. 247. Preparation for New Ministries: A Futuristic View / 1t47 ministries are surfacing more explicitly and distinctly associated with some level of Church structure or Church work. An example would be the role of the diocesan consultant. These categories, particularly, give striking evidence of the shifting roles of women in the Church. Table 1 Proportion of Women Religious in New Forms of Ministries According to the Type of Ministry* Religious Type of Ministry No. % Health Ministry I 112 18.87 Education Ministry 1334 22.64 Social Ministry 1912 32.45 Parish Ministry ' 797 13.53 Supportive Church-related Ministries 384 6.52 Spiritual Ministry 266 4.5 I Other 87 1.48 5892 100.00 *Refers to forms of ministries which were new to religious congregations of women at the time of the survey. As can be seen, the social ministries represent the largest group of services provided by women religious among these new forms. Almost one-third of the survey population were engaged in a form of social ministry, 10% more than those in education and close to 15% more than those involved in the health field. An interesting piece 6f data was the small number of sisters actually engaged in such works as business, clerical work, and sales in strictly non-ecclesial setti.ngs. Although a large number of others worked in non-sectarian structures, such as hospitals, they were most frequently ehgaged in pastoral work in the human service fields. The dominant theme which ran through the findings was se~r, vice, often with a highly skilled and profes-sional orientation, within a framework of ministry or mission. From the comments of some communities, form of service and perspective of min-istry were clearly within the context of their charismatic beginnings. The categories in Table 1 will be elaborated more fully in the discussion that follows. New Forms of Health Ministry The largest single category in the health field was pastoral care in Cath-olic institutions--hospitals, .nursing homes, or other group facilities. As Table 2 illustrates, a forceful trend is noted when pastoral care in Catholic settings is combined with pastoral care in non-Church related settings: almost one-half of the new forms of health ministries are in the field of pastoral care. Interestingly, too, more than one-fourth of the sisters in new health ministries are providing nursing or allied medical services in public 1~41~ / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/6 or private institutions not sponsored by the Church. Thus, almost 45% of the sisters included in the survey in the health field offer services in other than Catholic institutions. This proportion is even higher when combined with non-Church related community services. Table 2 Women Religious Engaged in Forms of Health Ministries New to Their Congregations Religious Ministries No. % Community-based Health Care (nursing and related allied 202 18.17 services) Health Care in Non-Church-related Institutions* 289 25.99 Pastoral Ministry in Catholic Institutions* 363 32.64 Pastoral Ministry in Non-Church-related Institutions 192 17.27 Other (Physicians, dentists, other specialists/consultants) 66 5.93 Total 1112 100.00 *Refers to hospitals, nursing homes, and the larger group facilities. As would be expected;.a large proportion, or almost 20% are in in-novative community and neighborhood-based health programs (such as public health, visiting nurses, and outreach clinics, both in Catholic and non-Church related settings). This group consists largely of nurses and allied professionals. Interestingly, this trend somewhat parallels that in social work although there was a sharper reversal from institutional to community settings in that field. Close to two-thirds of the sister social workers were in institutional work prior to Vatican II in contrast to over two-thirds in community-based programs after Vatican II: No doubt this trend in the hea!th field would be greater if more Church-related commu-nity- based programs were available within Catholic structures as they are in social work, e.g. Catholic Charities agencies and other neighborhood and parish-based social service and social action programs. Also, it was inter-esting that close to 85% of the population studied provided services within Church structures and only 6% saw services in the public sector as an important future role of the sister social worker. Leadership within the framework of the Church, as long as these structures were available and viable for effective and relevant service, was viewed as a dominant future role. Close to sixteen were physicians or dentists; when combined with psy-chiatrists (see Table 4), we can see a more visible trend in the medical ministries. A small number were speech and music therapists. 5Joseph, op. cit. pp. 102, 174. Preparation for New Ministries: A Futuristic View 1149 New Forms of Education Ministries More than one-fifth of the religious in the survey population continued in new and specialized forms of the education ministry. This is not sur-prising since the majority of religious have professional training in this field and many communities hold education as integral to their mission. Most interestingly, however, were the innovative and creative forms taking shape. As reflected in Table 3, close to 40% are specializing in religious education, which would seem to be an important role for the religious of the future. Almost one-third teach in schools in the inner city and urban areas, reflecting the traditional concern of communities for the poor and culturally deprived. Close to one-fifth were in a variety of specialized forms of education to the physically and emotionally handicapped, school drop-outs, minority and bilingual groups, and a range of adult education pro-grams. Table 3 Women Religioas Engaged in Forms of Edncation Ministries New to Their Congregations Religious Ministries No. % Campus Ministry 86 6.45 Communications 67 5.02 Library Work 56 4.20 Religious Education 530 39.73 Teaching in Seminaries and Theologates 25 1.87 Specialized Forms of Instruction 252 18.89 Inner City Teaching 318 23.84 Total 1334 100.00 A developing trend in communications was discernible, revealing some interesting works. Thirteen sisters were involved in very technical work with the media, TV and radio, while fifty-four sisters worked with Catholic and secular newspapers/periodicals in writing, illustrating, and publishing. ¯ New Forms of Social Ministry It has been made forcefully clear in recent years, by both the magis-terium and the Council, that the social ministries are essential aspects of the Mission of the Church.~ Perhaps the most significant trends in new min-istries are, in this area, not unrelated to the directions in society and de-velopments in the Church. This field, which reflected the largest number of new forms, has been defined variously in the literature. Very broadly, it ~Eugene A. Mainelli. "'The Parish Community Becoming: Theological Reflections," Social Thought, i (Fall. 1975). p. 15. Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/6 is viewed as comprising health, education, and welfare. Most specifically, as used here, it includes those activities which focus primarily on the social dimension of human services: the response to socio-personal needs as well as social justice and advocacy efforts directed toward humanizing and transforming societal structures,r As Table "4 shows, the largest proportion of sisters engaged in social ministries, over one-third, were in social work. These data are consistent with Joseph's findings: as many sisters were professionally trained, in social work from 1970 to 1972, inclusive, as were in the previous decade,s It is not surprising that religious would select this field as it call for skills in working with both' personal and social needs. With the two-fold emphasis today on the person and impacting social systems, it provides opportunity for both service and social action. The sisters in this survey were social workers in school and hospital settings as well as in community-neighborhood pro-grams which reflected reaching out to others in a variety of ways. More than one-half were in Catholic Charities agencies, in both traditional family and child care services, e.g. family counseling, foster care and adoption ser-vices, and in community organization work, crisis intervention, and other forms of outreach. More than 30% of the religious in social ministries worked with minority groups and rural poverty programs, evidencing out-reach as well as justice efforts. Table 4 Women Religious Engaged in Forms of Social Ministries New to Their Congregations Religious Ministries No. % Prison, Probation, Police Work 99 5.18 Social Justice Work 168 8.79 Social Work 651 34.05 Psychiatric, Psychological. Therapeutic Work 82 4.29 Work with Minority Groups 376 19.67 Rural Poverty Work 204 10.67 Alcoholism and Drug Addiction 116 6.07 Youth Work 114 5.96 Day Care Programs 28 1.46 Group Homes and Specialized Care Facilities 32 1.67 Other 42 2.19 Total i912 100.00 Although many in the above categories were actively engaged in social justice, advocacy, and social action--as related to the groups served-- 7Cedric W. Tilberg. "'The Social Ministry of the Congregation," Lutheran Social Welfare Quarterly, Vi (December, 1966), p. 8. 8Joseph, op. cit., p. 90. Preparation for New Ministries: A Futuristic View almost 10% of the sisters ,wer~ involved exclusively in these activities. Most of these sisters worked in social justice centers or on special commissions directed to justice and peace. Eighteen, however, were in political min-istries or appointed to government positions at state or local levels, while twenty-three were lawyers, aids, or legal advisors to the poor. A number organized legislative networks to promote grassroots leadership and create political power. Sixty-six worked in halfway houses for alcoholics or parolees or in group homes for pre-delinquent or delinquent youth. Another thirty-two served in homes for the mentally or physically handicapped or the emotionally disturbed. Slightly over 5% of the sisters worked with prisoners/parolees and their families, did probation work, or were on the police force, a relatively new area of ministry and one rich in service potential. The "'other" category consisted of those engaged in natural family planning, Birthright, housing projects, and shop~ for the poor. The liberation of the oppressed, as a pivotal and actigie concern of the Social Mission of the contemporary Church, is vividly clear in these data. Neff Forms of Church-Related Ministry Table 5 shows that almost one-half of the religious working in supportive Church-related works were specialists in the various fields of ministry, e.g. education and health, who acted as consultants to diocesan programs. More than one-third held offices in Church organizations at national and inter-national levels, utilizing the competencies of religious in important lead-ership roles. Three sisters were canon lawyers, twenty-three were identified as vicars for religious, and twelve were in tribunal work, no doubt a significant future indicator for the role of the ecclesial woman, These data represent a growing trend for women to assume leadership positions at all levels in the Church. Table 5 Women Religious Engaged in Forms of Church-Related Ministries New to Their Congregations Ministries National and International Offices in Church Organizations Vicars for Religious and Canon Lawyers Marriage Tribunal Work Diocesan Consultants/Specialists Ecumenical Consultants Total Religious No. % 126 32.8 I 36 9.38 12 3.12 189 49.22 21 5.47 384 100.00 Parish Ministry There is a:remarkable movement in the Church toward parish ministry, 1~52 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/6 especially among women religious, markedly illustrated in these data.~ The parish may be viewed as the Church in mission; it is here that the Church's mission is concretized. Rahner, in discussing the parish, states: ¯ . . the Church will make its impact as a present reality there where the presence of Christ is made real . Here the Christian of tomorrow will come to realize the true nature of the Church. Of course such a community, which feels itself to be the concrete realization of the Church as achieved through word and sacrament, will be conscious of being united to all other communities which likewise are the same Church . "~ It is in the parish-community that the Christian of the future will experience the Church in word and sacrament. The parish was the largest single category of ministry; 797 sisters were reported as involved in some aspect of parish work. The Parish was actually the only single category in the broad classification of ministries (see Table /), since the data did not lend itself to clearly differentiate among the various forms of parish work. A number, however, did indicate that they were parish associates, assistant pastors, parish workers, home visitors, social ministers, pastoral assistants, eucharistic ministers, parish spiritual directors, and parish team ministers, evidencing the plurality of forms at this level and supporting the need for the team approach. It may also be an index to the role ambiguity often experienced by parish workers and, fur-thermore, may indicate the need for clearer role definitions. Presnail dis-cussed this, detailing the range of roles identified with the parish worker and urging specialization within a framework of the plurality of ministries and personal charisms, competencies, and training. He points to the role am-biguity experienced by the religious educator until the role became more specialized and the boundaries more circumscribed.1~ In recent years, a number of Catholic Charities agencies across the country have reached out to parishes to facilitate social ministries at this level. According to a study that is underway, 206 religious are involved in some way in these parish social ministries, either directly as parish staff affiliated with the agency or as parish workers, not administratively related to the agency but receiving consultation from agency staff.t2 This upsurge in parish ministry is consistent with the findings of Jo-seph. 13 Comparative data, pre- and post-Vatican 1I, on the major apos- ~Sister Mary Vincentia Joseph, M.S.B.T., "'Christian Social Action," Careers in the Christian Ministry (Washington. D.C.: Consortium Press. 1976), p, 118. ~UKarl Rabner, -The New Image of the Church." Theological Investigations, Vol. X (New York: Herder and Herder, 1973). p. 11. ~Gregory Presnail, "Guidelines for a Parish Worker," Sisters Today (November, 1971), pp. 416-21. ~zSister Mary Vincentia Joseph, M.S.B.T. and Sister Ann Patrick Conrad, M.S.B.T., National Trends in Parish Social Ministry: A Study of Parish Programs Affiliated With Catholic Char-ities Agencies, in process. ~ZJoseph, A Study of Self-Role Congruence and Role-Role Congruence on the Integration of the Religious Role and the Social Work Role of the Sister Social Worker, p. 241. Preparation for New Ministries: A Futuristic View / 853 tolates of 108 religious communities, were obtained. The most dramatic change was in parish work. The number ~f religious congregations engaged in parish work at this time increased from 17.35% to 44.90%, close to a 30% oost-Vatican increase. Thus, we can expect---on the basis of these data, a continued upswing in parish work with a greater differentiation among ministry roles and a continued use and refinement of the team approach. The challenge remains to identify and elaborate the emerging patterns of parish ministry. The Spiritual Ministries Spiritual ministries, close to 5% of the new ministries, represented an emerging field in which the religio-spiritual dimension is the primary focus. These are closely related to pastoral ministry, but differ in that generally thry' are performed within church structures rather than in a setting in which one of the helping professions is the host-profession such as the hospital or the social agency. These ministries consisted largely of houses of prayer, retreat work---especially directed retreats, and prayer move-ments. Summary A two-pronged trend is reflected vividly in these data: concern with religious/spiritual aspects of the person (as evidenced in pastoral care, religious education and the directly spiritual ministries) and with the social dimension of human need (noted in the large number of religious engaged in the social ministries). Parish work may be viewed as reflecting both trends as the parish is concerned with socio-religious needs of persons through its developing approaches or team ministries. Deepening insight into the Pauline concept of the plurality of ministries is illustrated remark-ably in the growth in ministries at this level, particularly among women religious. The emphasis on social need was not only reflected in the increase in social ministries but also in the service modalities and organizational patterns in the health and education fields. The upswing in parish work, social work, pastoral care in health settings, and religious educationhin that order--would seem to forecast that these will be important future roles of women religious. A Conceptual Framework for the Study of Formation Programs The literature on adult socialization~4 is rich in its implications for for- ~4Socialization is the process by which one learns the ways of a given group. Often, it is defined as role learning. In adulthood, it refers to training for life or occupational roles. Studies have been done on socialization processes in such professions as nursing and medicine. No published research has been located by the authors on preparation for the role of the woman religious. I]54 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/6 mation programs in religious communities and provides tools for critical examination and assessment. The work of Brim and Wheeler is particularly useful as it identifies core variables which influence socialization out-comes.~ 5 It suggests a broad conceptual model to study the essential com-ponents of formation and aids in raising questions about current structural patterns, Central concepts are: the recruit or socializee: the candidate; the socializing agency: the religious community; the socializing agent: .for-mation personnel; and, the socialization process: the process of formation. The importance of taking another look at formation programs becomes obvious not only in considering the trends in ministry but in recent work-shop experiences of the National Religious Formation Conference. During workshop meetings, both men and women religious were asked to define the qualities needed for the future religious. Most frequently projected characteristics were: (1)self-direction; (2) the willingness to search, risk, and deal with uncertainty; (3) a deepening spiritual life; (4) a sense of rootedness in the charism of the institute;and, (5) a global mission concern. These characteristics and the new ministries suggest the need for an orienting philosophy of learning geared to the adult learner. Cartwell, in an excellent article on current educational models in formation programs, clearly identifies the need for an integrated cognitive-experiential-devel-opmental approach appropriate to today's social and cultural needs.~6 The proposed approach to learning is the adult learning model, androgogy, which prepares the person for self-direction and on-gbing learning. This approach is grounded in active participation, mutual sharing, and a readiness to learn. It recognizes not only the potential of the recruit but also the learned skills and past experiences which are brought to the new learn-ing situation.~r ~ With the trend awayJfrom institutional forms of ministry to community and parish-based work, many religious are moving from highly structured settings to natural ecological settings which are often ambiguous and lack-ing in role clarity. Such settings require that structures not only be created but implemented effectively and that roles be defined and continuously reclarified. Services at these levels demand creative action and continued innovation. Collaborative team approaches are required, calling for a high degree of skill in interpersonal communication as well as in coping with conflictuai role demands. Competency and evaluation (a trend in our so- 15Orville G. Brim and Stanton Wheeler, Socialization After Childhood (New York: John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 1966). ~6Peter W. Cartwell, O.F.M., "Formation--Whither or Whether," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, XXXll (September, 1973), p. 1050. ~rMalcolm Knowles, The Adult Learner: Neglected Species (Houston: Gulf Publishing Com-pany, 1973). Preparation ,for New Ministries: A Futuristic View ciety where resources and commodities are scarce) will be essential to assess program effectiveness. Increasingly, then, ministry will require self-directed persons, ready to generate new service modalities, negotiate role demands, and collaborate with others in attempting to find solutions to complex problems. The Recruit-Candidate Very often young people today have broad experiences. Frequently, they are well traveled and view such experiences as important to their on-going development. Generally, those who enter the helping professions have a high degree of commitment to serve the needs of others. Those who would enter a religious community seek to deepen their value-orientation and share similar values with others in community. Many have been ex- :posed to an adult learning style, basically experiential, moving from the realm of the empirical and from skill in doing to the level of abstraction and conceptualization. They freely challenge ideas and existing structures, ex-pecting an openness of response and, themselves, inviting feedback. Where opeaness is absent, confrontation is often heightened. They seek an ex-panding personal development and view some contemporary religious structures as constricting growth potential. The questionmust be raised: Can present structures of many formation programs attract, support, and enhance the goals of these young women? In view of the socialization outcomes required fo~ the new ministries, what personal qualifications are needed in the recruit at entrance?~Selection and socialization processes obviously interact. Etzione states that where both are high, socialization should be effective.18 Space does not permit further discussion of the prospective candidate. It seems sufficient here to raise these basic questions. The Structure Granting the developmental-experiential nature of adult learning, one must consider the environmental or structural conditions which foster it. Organizational arrangements of formation programs will require on-going examination in the light of trends in ministries and related learning needs. A basic assumption of the androgogical model implies change in the self-concept moving from one of dependence, to increasing self-direction.19 When operationalized in structures, this assumption is reflected in mutual trust and collaboration, flexibility, freedom to express differences, and active participation in learning. These structures should be geared to fa- ~SAmitai Etzione, Complex Organizations (New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, 1961). ~Knowles, op. cit., p. 45. Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/6 cilitate growth and provide experiential as well as didactic learning oppor-tunities, a direction underway in many communities. Self-concept theory and research have demonstrated the impact of ref-erence groups on the self-concept of the person. Where a person constantly receives negative images, a negative concept of self may develop. In the past religious structures emphasized negative feedback, often forming negative self-concepts in religious. Current structures must be realistic, emphasizing positive as well as constructive negative feedback. Such an orientation contributes to a realistic self-concept and confidence in both self-direction and leadership skills. The Socializing Agent Fundamentally, formation personnel must be comfortable with the self-directed contemporary religious. Question must be raised as to appropriate preparation for formation team members. The predominant emphasis has been largely theological while also drawing from the humanistic psychol-ogies. Since the new ministries require an on-going diaiogical process with the world, it would seem that a broadened training would be required drawing from the social sciences and the secular professions. This would highlight the environment, the interaction between the person and the so-cial context--in this situation, the community. The environmental aspects and their influences on the person need to be emphasized. The self is in constant interaction with social structures, both within and outside the community. Formation personnel need to be more aware of the impact of structures on the person in community and how the person can impact on structure, as a basis for mutual and on-going growth and change. The Process The process of socialization, which seeks to identify how a specific role is internalized, has been studied in a number of professions,z° Greater attention needs to be given to this process in formation programs. The work of Kinnane and Preister suggests that the ultimate direction of socialization should be characterized by a movement from dependence and indepen-dence to interdependence; the development from self-centered behavior to social behavior; growth in maturity; and, the increasing integration of re-ligio- spiritual values in ministry.2t Z°Howard Becker, et ~il., eds., Institutions and the Person (Chicago: Aldine Publishers, 1968). ZlJohn F. Kinnane, Career Development for Priests and Religious (Washington, D.C.: CARA, 1970); Steven Preister, "The Professional Socialization of the Seminarian into the Career of Priesthood." Unpublished paper, Catholic University of America, 1976. PreParation for New Ministries: A Futuristic View The formation process involves both formal and informal components. Basically, the formal process occurs in sequential phases, clearly marked by rites of passage or movement from affiliate or candidacy status to the position of novice or of commitment. Informal processes, however, operate and may be identified. It has been observed in one community that religious often proceed from the initial stage with some role ambiguities, to a positive identification with community (often at the beginning of the novitiate) to a negative identification, followed by a more realistic conceptma stage of interdependence in community and the beginning of internalized commit-ment (generally toward the end of the novitiate),z2 Although this was found to be th~ usual process, individual variations in development and regression may occur throughout the process. It does suggest, however, a process of integration and internalization which continues in all adult life. Young religious need to be continuously confronted throughout this process to recognize both positive and negative aspects of the religious community and consider within this context where they are, personally, at a given time as they develop a realistic view of the community and seek to serve within its framework of ministry, they have already begun to internalize their religious commitment. To be fixated in either a positive or a negative phase may well reflect a question of personal commitment within this particular life style. With the complexities of living in society today and the greater demands in ministry, it seems that more attention must be given to the processes of initial and on-going formation. Conclusion In conclusion, religious of the future are now, in fact defining them-selves. This paper has presented indicators for the future role of women religious based on ministries which were identified as new to their con-gregations. An orienting conceptual model was formulated to examine ex-isting struciures and processes of formation programs as well as to raise questions as to how these programs are preparing religious for future roles in ministry. A further question, however, needs to be asked. Although religious communities are intellectually endorsing new ministries, are affective sup-port structures being provided for these newly developing works? These survey findings therefore, compel communities not only to address their newly developing forms of ministry but also to consider the support sys-tems provided for these new directions. 22Sister Mary Vincentia Joseph, M.S.B.T., "S~cialization in a Religious Community." Un-published paper, Catholic University of America, 1974. This paper was prepared in con-junction with research on the socialization process of one community. Reflections of a "Temporary Monk" Anne Marie Harnett, S.N.J.M. Sister Anne Marie received permission for a "contemplative sabbatical" last year, during which time she resided with, and lived the life of several contemplative communities. Presently she is doing graduate studies in theology and resides at 519 Varnum St., N.W.; Washington, DC 20011. The poet's labor is to struggle with the meaninglessness and silence of the world until he can force it to mean, until he can make the silence answer and the non-being be. It is a labor which undertakes to "know" the world not by exegesis or demonstration or proofs but directly, as a man knows apple in the mouth.1 When I read this paragraph recently, I was excited. It seemed to express what I have been trying to do this year during a "contemplative sabbat-ical." Aboht a y.ear ago, I asked for the opportunity for an extended ex-perience oUsolitude because of a somewhat hazy intuition 'that such an orientation was at the source of any ministry for justice (a large interest of mine) and it was itself a powerful witness to the consumer ~ociety in which we live. ~' I address these reflections particularly to those men and women who" might also feel called to an experience of solitude--to encourage them. I speak to contemplative communities--to thank them for their hospitality to me when I needed to be a "temporary monk." I hope that these few thoughts will encourage contemplative groups of women especially to con-sider this kind of hospitality as a service to the Church. Since September I have been struggling with the meaninglessness and silence--sometimes catching glimpses of the answer and the being--in a seemingly endless game of hide and seek. I have let the various elements of the experience speak to me, wondering at times what all this has to do 1Archibald MacLeish, Poetry and Experience (Boston, 1961), pp. 8-9, in The Courage to Create by Rollo May (New York: Bantam Books, 1976), p. 89. 858 Reflections of a "Temporary Monk" / 859 with ordinary living, let alone with problems of violence, poverty, injustice, the needs and :,:~oblems of people today. Sometimes I have felt anxious and frustrated: c:,.cu joy-filled, occasionally guilty, generally at peace, "r,. year has been. a tapestry. It has provided me with a variety of experiences resulting in changed attitudes and new and keener aware-nesses. Many of the designs iffthis tapestry have not yet been woven, and like the underside of a tapestry, the pattern is not readily visible to me. Because I am always wary of instant experts, of people who spend a few weeks in a foreign country and then lecture or write about the people and culture of that country, I hesitate to say a great deal even about the early part of my adventure in the "desert"; certainly I cannot yet write about my current "Carmelite phase." I would like however to share my reflections on the short experience I had in a Trappist monastery in Mistassini, Quebec. The monks'there have opened their choir to both men and women, and so I had the privilege of sharing fully in their prayer from Vigil at 3:30 A.M. until Compline at 7:30 P.M. Their Office is beautiful inits simplicity. I found that it not only satisfied 'my need.for beauty in worship but that it completed my own prayer; whatever the mood or message of my prayer might have been. The Hours became~for me a stream into which I could jump at various times of the day, a stream which carried: along with it all my hopes, as-pirations and activities. Because chanting Office at 3:30 A.M. is so foreign to most of us, I would like to say a little abotlt Vigil. It was never easy; seldom .was it bright With praise or, comforting in sorrow or pain. It was to me what its name suggests: watching and waiting. I often thought all of this would be absurd if God did not exist, if he were not God with us and for usl Often too I would think of and so pray for other people who-were up for other reasons: those on night shifts, parents with sick children, street people, those with no bed to go to. At other times I would think of people close to me, some of them watching and waiting in a way only they could know; other~ now fully enjoying him for whom we in that church were keeping vigil. Often too I would just manage to be there. Always I knew that all the stars were laughing at our wonder. I became more keenly aware of the apostolic dimension of prayer, both liturgical and personal, knowing that my prayer and that of the monks and other guests extended far beyond the confines of that church. This is so because of the nature of liturgical prayer, because of the eucharist and our faith in its cosmic dimensions~, but also because of what happens in prayer. The experience of a deep need of liberation and healing, the experience of both the presence and the apparent absence of God, and of his absolute fidelity, the relationship of this prayer to daily life with its demands, calls, and responses--all this is a microcosm of the world today with its own great need for liberation and healing, and its search for God whom so many have dismissed or do not know. ~160 / Review for Religious, Volume 36, 1977/6 This experience in prayer brought me new attitudes toward solitude. For some time I had found periods apart renewing and increasingly nec-essary to my well-being. So when I went to Mistassini I considered it under this primarily physical or geographical aspect. Now, while I realize the necessity and appreciate the value of periods of physical solitude, I have come to think of it more as "an enclosure" I carry around with me. It is an inner attitude in line with the thought of Thomas Merton expressed in Contemplation in a Worm of Action. As I understand it, he sees solitude as a probing for truth, first of all in oneself; it is the acceptance of one's identity and of one's lot as given by God. While probing for truth and forming convictions, one seeks the courage to live, to witness in accordance with these convictions. It involves making decisions, consonant with one's inner reality and in the light of God's truth and love.2 I became more aware of the fact that my search and probing is a pil-grimage. Like Abraham I have set forth in the desert hearing the call, "Go forth from the land of your kinsfolk and from your father's house to a land that I will show you" (Gn 12:1). While my predominant mood as I set out on this pilgrimage was one of joy in God's presence, yet solitude sometimes brought me fear of the future, an angst fear. This reality I found also described by Thomas Merton: "The man who wants to deepen his existential awareness has to make a break with ordinary existence, and this break is costly. It cannot be made without anguish and suffering. It implies loneliness, and the disorientation of one who has to recognize that the old signposts don't show him his way, and that in fact he has to find the way by himself without a map.''3 Perhaps I will always have to live with this anguish because the old signposts are in fact gone, and the new ones are very hazy. Certainly they will never be as clear-cut and sharply defined as they were in the past. Very likely the way will never be clearly mapped out. Yet I have become more at home with my anxiety and at times even welcome it as an experience of my powerlessness, as a call to total de-pendence on God. Recently I found a passage in The Courage to Create by Rollo May which describes in psychological terms this aspect of solitude. The ex-perience of encounter, encounte¢ implying a deep commitment, always brings anxiety because of the shaking of the self-world relationship which occurs in the encounter. "Our sense of identity is threatened: the world is not as we experienced it before; and since self and world are always cor-related, we no longer are what we were before . The anxiety we feel is temporary rootlessness, disorientation; it is the anxiety of nothingness.''4 In mature creativity anxiety must be confronted if we are to experience joy. 2Thomas Merton, Contemplation in a World of Action (New York: Image Books, 1973), Chapter III, "The Identity Crisis," pp. 75-100. aIbid., p. 126. ~Ibid., p. 107. Reflections of a "Temporary Monk" / 861 I can live with anxiety and anguish, confront them and experience joy because of my faith and trust in God, and because of the love relationship I experience with him. The anxiety is then transformed into resting in him. It' is living in that marvelous gap between what my faith sees and feels and what God knows and is actually accomplishing in me; between my desire to live as he wants me to live, to be the person he wants me to be, and the fulfillment of this desire. It is a living of the words of Isaiah, "See, I am doing something new! Now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? In the desert I make a way, in the wasteland, rivers" (Is 43:9). During the summer just before my sabbatical year I was a journalist at our general chapter which was one of reflection and discernment on our charism and our response to it in the world today. During the c.hapter our foundress was very much alive and present to us; she continued to be present to me during these weeks of solitude. As I reflected on my life as a woman religious and on hers, I saw that she had creative imagination'~ which she used in service to the Church. She consulted the signs of the times and, with eyes wide and in perfect freedom, said yes. This yes meant leaving a respectable and secure position, setting herself and her two com-panions up in an attic, opening a small school with no financial means, embarking on unknown seas in an as yet unfounded community. She said thisyes daily depending totally on God in faith and love. It seems to me that this is the kind of response to which God calls us today: the witness of a life--creative, integrated, with a willingness to risk, dedicated to the gospel. As I write these reflections in my room in the Bronx Carmel, I am looking at a little collection of prints tacked on my wall: La Misereuse accroupie (a woman crouching, possibly in prayer) by Picasso, Christ Mocked by Soldiers by Rouault, The Burghers of Calais and La Pensde by Rodin, the South Rose Window and Lancets from the Cathedral of Chartres. Beside them is the quote, "Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves." The collection symbolizes the strands of life that have brought me here and the threads continually being woven into my solitude, my experience of God. The Christ who is mocked is the crouching woman, the attraction of La Pens~e, the glorious center of the rose window. He is the reason for loving the questions and for being patient with the incompleteness of the answers. He is somewhere in the agony, the stolid acceptance, the chains and the resistance symbolized by the Burghers of Calais. At the same time he is in the beauty and achievement of ihe ensemble. My encounter with this reality brings me back to labor and struggle with the meaningless, the contradictions and the paradoxes. Again I am knock-ing on silence, waiting for being; above all, I am living in hope. ~Leonardo Boff, author of Jesus-Christ Liberateur, says that imagination is the creativity to see humankind become better and richer than the present cultural environment. The Call of Retirement: A Ministry of Elders Jeanne Schweickert, O.S.F. Sister Jeanne is Vice President of Ministry for the School Sisters of St. Francis. Her office is located at 1501 South Layton Blvd.; Milwaukee, Wl 53215. Over the past several years many old people have entered my life in new and powerful ways, the young old, the middle old, and the old old--and as they touched me I experienced the paradoxes of their lives: the hopeful expectations of some, the disillusionment of others; the longing for (he great past and the eager awaiting of death; the joyous celebration of life and the loneliness, fear and despair of day-after-day. It became more and more obvious that as the people I met approached old age, as they moved into retirement, they experienced traumatic mo-ments in their lives, moments that challenged their very personhood. Some time ago I decided to take council with some of the elderly sisters of my community. I invited them to get in touch with their own experience of retirement and share with me what they recalled happening inside them at that time. The following are a few of their comments: "Sometimes it feels like your personhood is diminished ." "I want to be seen first as a person, and then as a patient . " "Institutions make it difficult to be personal ." "You can't make decisions for yourself ." "I felt dethroned, becoming an observer rather than a participant . " "I was frightened of being a captive of the rocking chair and treated as a child kept busy with games and crafts . " "The real pain of not being active is that your opinion is never sought . " These are but a few of their comments; they are the more painful ones. 862 The Call of Retirement: A Ministry of Eiders / 1~63 However all of these perspectives reinforced for me again the perception of retirement as a time of moving away from something that had meaning rather than moving toward something significant in life. In his "Preface to a Practical Theology of Aging" Don S. Browning emphasizes that we must challenge both the idea that a person is only of worth or contributing when he is gainfully employed and the idea that the last stages of life should be a time of irrelevant comfort and preadolescent indulgence. Al

Issue 35.4 of the Review for Religious, 1976. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS IS edtted by faculty members of St Louis University, the edttorlal 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 © 1976 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, $1.5.00 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. Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Robert Williams, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Book Editor Assistant Editor July 1976 Volume 35 Number 4 Renewals, new subscriptions, and changes of .address should be sent to REvx~w FOR RELmiOVS; 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 vOa RELmIOUS; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boule-vard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gailen, S.J.; St. Joseph's College; City Avenue at 54th Street; .Phil'adelphia, Pennsyl-vania 19131. "Jesuits Today" Horacio de la Costa, S.J. Father de la Costa wrote the March contribution to'our series on the 32nd General Congregation of the Society of Jesus, "A More Authentic Poverty." He resides at Xavier House; P. O. Box 2722; Manila 2801; Phil!ppines. ' Just. before it adjourned, the 32nd General ~Congregation of the Society o[ Jesus arrived at a clear and distinct,idea of why it had met. This realiza-tion is expressed.in its In~troductory Dec.rce,~ which, being introductory, ~was of course taken up last. The decree makes several points. First, that the congregation immedi-ately, preceding, the 31st, sought toadapt Jesuit life to the directives of the Second Vatican Council. Second, that it did so in documents which '~ccuraiely and faithfully.~ express the genuine spirit and tradition of the Society." Third, that during the decade that followed, "significant" success attended the effort to reduce these documents to practice. Fourth, that that success Was circumscribed by "two exaggerations, each tending in an op-posite direction," the one a resistance, to renewal as being "somehow a de-parture from the genuine Ignatian spirit," ~the other an adaptation of Jesuits and their work to the needs of the world w.hich is excessix, e,,,and in fact "runs counter tom the .Gospel message." Fifth, that these conflicting tend-encie~ not only "threatened unity within the Society," but gave "cause for concern" both to the superior general of. the order and to the Pope. And hence, sixth, that the aim of the 32nd General Congregation was, by recog-nizing and removing these exaggerations, to achieve "a balanced renewal of 0religious life and a discerning re-dedication to apostolic service." A~ congregation delegate put it more imaginatively by saying that the 31st General Congregation had launched a satellite, to which the 32nd then 481 4a2 / Review for Religious, l/olume 35, 1976/4 proceeded to transmit certain course corrections, its intention being not to modify, much less to reverse its trajectory, but rather to focus it more ac-curately on its moving target. And that, while engaged in this exercise, the said congregation received a fairly strong input from the Vatican com-puters. The focus which the congregation decided to give the 'Society today centers on the concept of mission. More than ever before, mission--the act or state of being sent--must be a key element of the Jesuit's self-iden-tity. "A Jesuit . . . is essentially a man on a mission: a mission which he receives immediately from the Holy Father and from his own religious su-periors, but ultimately from Christ himself, the one sent by the Father. It is by being sent that the Jesuit becomes a companion ot~ Jesus.''1 Well, then, what is the mission on which Jesuits are being sent today? Considering only the multiplicity of works in which Jesuits are actually en-gaged, and leaving aside the multiplicity of works in which they think they should be engaged, it covers a very wide range indeed. But are these works merely a miscellany chosen at .random, a collection without internal co-hesion? Or is there some unifying, some integrating factor-pulling them together in a convergent thrust? The congregation decided that if there isn't there should be, and that it should be the service of faith and the pro-motion of justice considered as complementary facets of an undivided whole. "The mission of the Society of Jesus today is the service of faith, of which the promotion of justice is an absolute requirement.'''~ This is the "basic choice," the "priority of priorities" for the Society at which the congregation arrived. How did it arrive at it? It may be well to consider this briefly, to consider not only the product, but the process by which it was produced. The product is this handful of documents which .~esuits are supposed to translate from words to action; to bring to iife in their lives. Well and good. The trouble is that they are texts, and legisla-tive texts at that. Paragraphs On parade, marching down page after page in neatly numbered companies, footnotes following after like a baggage train; all spick-and-span, i's dotted and t's crossed, treadling the measured tread of ecclesiastical Latin. Parade-ground texts, remot~ely reminding us of a battle, butobearing only a faint resemblance to a battlefield. ~ How can we make these texts come alive? Would it help to have re-course to one of Saint Ignatius' little devices for making things come alive? "First prelude, the history of what I am about to contemplate. Second pre-lude, a composition of place. Here it will be to see with the eyes of the imagination . '"~ Very well; and what will it be here? Perhaps, to try to see these texts as people; the people who produced them; the congregati 1GC 32, "Jesuits .Today," n. 14. :GC 32, "Our Mission Today," n. 2. 3Spi~ritual Exercises, n. 102. "Jesuits Today" / 4113 whom the Society sent to Rome to discern what its response should be to the call of Christ. See them there in that hall on Holy Spirit Street--Borgo Santo Spirito --men from widely different national, cultural, occupational, experiential backgrounds, who, in trying to fulfill their brothers' commission, strove strenuously not only with each other but with themselves, and in the pro-cess got confused, enlightened, dismayed,_ heartened, disheartened; lost courage and regained it; got bored, doodled, dreamed of home; went to the Gesfi to celebrate the Eucharist; got an insight; tried it out on a couple of companions over a plate of pasta and a flagon of Frascati; and finally ar-rived at the consensus congealed in these texts. We must not, then, be deceived by the asceptic neatness of these docu-ments. They are the fai'r cop, y of whai:at first looked like an illegible scrawl, but; in the end,. surprisingly, made sense. If God writes straight with crooked lines, then the g.roping and searching, the backing and filling, the findin.g and losing, the consolations and desolations which filled the house on Holy Spirit Stri~et with tongues of fire disguised as will-o'-the-wisps were the crooked lines with which God wrote straight for Jesuits; and it may help to see how straight God has written if we have some idea of how crooked were the lines. I am not, of course, suggesting that the congregati thought crooked. QO the contrary; the~y were straight-thinking, straight-shooting men. The trouble was that the targets they were shooting at seemed to weave wantonly from side to side, and sometimes to disappear altogether. I think most of them will agree that there was hardly a moment during the congregation when they were not in one way or another confused: confused by the ap-palling diversity of the Society's apostolic initiatives and commitments; con-fused by the added complication that Jesuits are inserted {hus variously in a world iri process of rapid change; confused by tensions old and new, in the Society and outside it, between generations, between the backward-looking and the forward-looking, between innovation and tradition, be-tween development and liberation, between ideology and praxis, between capita!ism and socialism, between the two sides of the Iron Curtain, between East and West. A confusion so great that if a consensus emerged--as it did --it is more than likely that that straight line was drawn not by the hand of man.but by the finger of God. The consensus is what is embodied in our text~; and what I am really trying t'o say, I suppose, is that to appreciate the consensus it is necessary to have some idea of the confusion that preceded it. The Introductory Decree speaks of "two exaggerations, each tending in an opposite direction," which "have threatened the unity of the Society.''~ 4n. 4. 41~4 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/4 One cannot say that the exaggerations themselve~ ~vere present at the con-gregation., but one might suggest that the tendencies they exaggerat~ were. The congregation seems to have brought into confrontation two radically different ways of thinking about the Society ~nd its mission, so different as to seem irreconcilable. One approach was conservative, traditional, back-ward- looking; the other was radical, inno.vati~;e, forward-looking. In Commission I on the Norms of the ApoStolate, Commission II on the Missiofi of the Society, and Commission IV on the Promotion of Jus-tice, what the "radicals" seemed to be saying was this: "Let's start from the facts'. Let's" look at what has to be done in th~ world and let's do that. What kind of work? Never mind what kind o,f work, as long as it works! We must do only 'Jesuit' works? There are no 'Jesuit' works! What does Pedro Arrup~e say? 'Jesuit identity ~s to have no identity!' " To which the "conservatives" seemed to r~eply: "Now, wait. You can't possibly mean that. ~'ou can't possibly mean that there is no specifically Jesuit apostolate. There must be something 'Jesuit' a Jesuit is supposed to do. Start with the facts? What facts? Real facts, or what are alleged to be facts by those who have already de,ideal ffhat they want to do? Let's not start with such facts. Let's start with something more certain and secure: the Formula of the Institute, the Constitutions, the Spiritual Exercises, the directives of Paul VI. Let's reflect on what the~, say we should be doing, and let's do that. There are others in the Church ahd in the world ~;~o c/an do the rest, and do it better. What does John Janssens say? 'We can-not be Divine Providence.' " Two approaches to the apostolate. Two "niind-sets," each convinc6d that"it was i'ight and the other wrong. And so there was debate. No need to pl~y down the fact that there was debate: a cl~ish of argument' on a corn= mon ground of discourse. It will not do to give ttiis congregation the image of a group of gi-6wn men politely bowing to each other and saying, "Ah, so? That is what you think? How nice! Thank y.ou very much!" And each or~e going off, as the poet says, "eonvinced against~ his will, but of the same opinion still." A "confrontation, then, conducted for the. most. part with sweet reason-ableness, but not without sound and fury. Such at least was the impression given by couriers to the staff officers of the Deputatio ad Secernenda Pos-tulata (the commission to validate initiatives taken by Jesuits, individually or corporately, for consideration of the co.ngi'egation), standing on.their rise o~ ground ab.o~ve the smoke of battle: Committee Room P, fourth floor. But when the smoke of battle cleared, and the field glasses went up to sur-vey the sh~m. bles, it became visible even to the naked eye that,what began a's a confrontati6n had turned out to be a convergence. What happened? Some would say that debate had given way to discern-ment, It may well be. 1 do not know enough about discernment to be cer-tain. My personal observation is that as the~congregation progressed people "Jesuits Today" / 485 were listening more to each other, and were more inclined to question not only those from whom they differed, but themselves. Thus: We must promote justice. That is the conclusion imposed by the facts. Yes; but what is justice? What do I really mean by it? Or rather, what does the Gospel say it is? , Or again: The. Formula of the Institute says that we are a society founded for the .defense and propagation of the faith, Yes; but how do you defend and propagate the faith? By word alone? Also by wit'ness? What kind of witness? What kind of witness in a divided' world? And further: Jesuits in the developed world must be chiefly concerned with secularism, with the~ marginalization of Christianity in societies an-ciently Christian. Jesuits in the underdev.eloped world, on the other hand, must be chiefly concerned with underdevelopment, with' the marginalization of the powerless in unjust societies. Certainly; but are these two phenomena completely distinct? Or are they somehow related? How related? And finally: Take a look at the Constitutions, Part VII, where Saint Ignatius lays down his norms for the selection of ministries: the more uni-versal good, the more lasting good;,.help to those most in need of help, works that have a "multiplier" effect, spiritual works by preference, but corporal works if more urgent. Apply these norms to our moment of his-tory, and what do you corne up with? ~ . It was by some such process of shared reflection that the two mind-sets we have described discovered, initially to their discomfiture, increas~ ingle, to their delight, that they were saying the same thing. More precisely, that they were in the same boat; rowing, ,bailing, or busily polishing brass, but in the same boat, with Diakonia Fidei (Service of Faith) stenciled on the port side and' Promotio lustitiae on the starboard side. ,A pretty rocky boat, to be' sure; not quite,rigged and already slightly battered; with cracks to be sealed, sails to be set, a course to be charted; but one boat, not two planks from a shipwreck. And not completely at .sea, either; for we now have, by this callida.iunctura of faith and justice, a focus to our apostolate, a destination for our mission. The convergence can be more clearly seen by juxtaposing nn. 4 and 10 of the document "Jesuits Today" and nn. 2 and 3 of the document "Our Mission Today." We arrive at this basic choice' from several different points of departure. The postulata received from the provinces, the panorama of the state of the Society presented at the congregation, and the suggestions given us .by the PoPe, ~all direct our .attention to the vast expanse, and circuit of this globe and the great multitude and diversity of peoples therein . We are con-firmed in this basic choice by being led to it from another point of departure, namely; the original inspiration of the Society as set ~forth in the Formula of the Institute hnd the Constitutions . 486 / Review]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/4 The mission of the Society of Jesus today is the service of faith~ of which the promotion of justice is an absolute requirement . In one form or another, this has always been the mission of the Society; but it gains new meaning and urgency in the light of the needs and aspirations of the men of our time, and it is in that light that we embrace it anew. Put that way, it sounds pretty obvious. The point, however, is that when the congregation began it was by no means obvious; that it became obvious by a convergence of two different approaches in a process of interaction; and that this convergence was, for many in the congregation, a discovery. Closely allied to the problem of what Jesuits do is the problem of what Jesuits are. There was a far greater number of postulata from the provinces concerning the first problem than concerning the second. However, there were enough for the Deputatio ad Secernenda Postulata to decide to form an Intercommission on Jesuit Identity. Why an "intercommission"? For two reasons, First, because its members were recruited from the regular commissions which had already been formed. Second, because the Deputatio's instructions were that this group should be a link between the other commissions; or rather, a listening post, lis-tening in on all of them to pick up and put together what they were saying that could have a bearing on Jesuit identity. But why did the question of identity come up at all? What gave rise to the postulata on the subject? One reason might have been the feeling that many of those who leave the Society do so because they no longer have, perhaps never had, a clear idea of what it is to be a Jesuit, or why they should be Jesuits rather than something else. Or else, the concern that we are engaging in all sorts of development work, justice promotion, political action, and other efforts to build up a more human world, but doing so according to the norms, ideals, and procedures of secular agencies or move-ments engaged in the same enterprise; in effect, that we are identifying our-selves with them instead of making the' original, the unique contribution we are called upon to make as an apostolic, religious, sacerdotal body. Which, incidentally, is what the.more reflective among the secular humanists them-selves expect us to make. They don't expect us to do0what they are already doing: They expect us to do "our thing." But what is "our thing"? We do not seem to be quite clear on that. This intercommission, then, was told to do something about the problem, but it was also very distinctly told that it was not to make up "Jesuit iden-tity" oui of its own head. It was by all means to avoid being creative. Its job was simply to find out what the congregation itself was saying about Jesuit identity, explicitly or imlSlicitly, in the course of its deliberations on mission, formation, poverty, government, community lift; and if it succeeded in drafting a statement on the subject, to sub/nit the draft to the congrega-tion for approv~il. The result is the document entitled "Jesuits Today." An earlier title, "Jesuit Identity," was rejected by the congregation, and "Jesuits Today" / 4117 rightly so. This document is in no sense a formal definition of the Society or of the Jesuit. It is simply a descriptive summary of some of the attributes that may serve to identify Jesuits both to themselves and to others. Even as a description it is certainly not definitive, for Jesuit identity, like that of any other personality, is, first of all, elusive; it cannot be pinned down or exhaustively catalogued in any statement. And it is elusive chiefly because it is in [ieri, in process of becoming: the identity of a living and growing thing which keeps changing while remaining itself. Some future congrega-tion will doubtless find it necessary to draw up another statement of Jesuit identity. That is why it was finally decided to call this document simply "Jesuits Today." As the effort at self-understanding of persons who do not take them-selves too seriously, it was given, inevitably, other, less formal titles. "Cari-dent: the toothpaste with Formula 32, a special blend of charism and iden-tity, guaranteed to enhance that dazzling, distinctive Jesuit smile." "ldenti-kit." the police portrait of the mystery man going around holding up people and asking them, 'Who am I?' " But "identikit" is not just a gibe. It contains a thought of Father Arrupe's which he expressed to the Intercommission on Identity~ I hope I may be forgiven for paraphrasing it here. A photograph of Jesuit identity is not possible, only an approximate likeness, as in an identikit. Why? Interiorly, spiritually, we do have an iden-tity:, the Ignatian spirit, insofar as we live it. But exteriorly, apostolically, what is Jesuit identity? It is to have no identity. We have no specifically Jesuit ministries, as other religious institutes might have: not education, not social action, not parishes, not this or that form of action or contemplation, 'but only what here and now God wants done. The document begins with the first and most obvious clue to a Jesuit's identity: his name: Jesuitbsomeone who pertains to, who belongs to, Jesus. Everyone knows how tenaciously Saint Ignatius clung to that name. Nothing could induce him to change it, This complete certitude that he and his company are something that belong to Jesus seems to be based on the spiritual experience Ignatius had at La Storta, a.wayside chapel just outside Rome. He was making his way to Rome from the north on foot, and all the way he was praying to Our Lady that he might be "placed with the Son." Arrived at La Storta, he had this vision, or enlightenment, or insight, in which the Eternal Father asks Jesus carrying his cross to take this pil-grim into his company. And Jesus accepts him. It is interesting that in all this the Lord is not called Christ but Jesus. Jesus, his personal name. Which suggests that for Ignatius being "placed with the Son" meant entering into a personal relationship with him, a rela-tionship of personal love. This is confirmed by the fact that when his com-panions asked him what our Lord's words to him ("I shall be propitious to you at Rome") meant, Ignatius replied with great joy, "I don't know. Maybe it means we shall b~ crucified with him in Rome!" A love relation- 488 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/4 ship, then, not just between servant and master, not just between soldier and cat~tain, but between sinner and Savior. This brings us to what the document sees as another clue to Jesuit iden-tity. The Jesuit is a man who has come to a vivid realization not only of his sinful acts but of his isinfulness; and with equal vividness has come to realize that his conversion, his turning back to God, began not with him but with Jesus: the saving love of Jesus reaching out to him, in his sinful-ness. "You did not choose me; no, I chose ~,ou.'''~ If, then, the Jesuit is' one who, following Ignatius, asks to be placed with Jesus, it is because he is responding to love: the love of Jesus which, beyond,all expectation, antici-pates and seeks his love. His response is that of the converted sinner. These are the two related thoughts with which the document begins: "What is it to be a Jesuit? It is to know that one is a sinner, yet called to be a companion of Jesus.''G There was some objection at the congregation~'to beginning the docu-ment with" this confession of sinfulness, this "beating, of breasts." It was thought to be overacting~ or over-reacting to the alleged Jesuit.propensity to arrogant ~triumphalism. Does this show.of humility really counteract that impression--if, indeed, it is the impression Jesuits give? Is it not, in fact, a kind of triumphalism in reverse? Why not simply ~and immediately focus on the central element of Jesuit. identity, that of being socius lesu: the com-panion of Jesus, the man who has answered the call of the Eternal King? Perhaps. But the point is that that is not how~Ignatius began. And that is not how the Spiritual Exercises begin. Ignatius the Jesuit begins with what James Brodrick calls the "pilgrim years," when this wandering penitent signed his letters "Ignacio pecador": Ignatius, sinner. And the Exercises begin not with 'the Meditation on the Kingdom but with the First Week: with the effort to realize thfit the love of Jesus has reached out to me in my sinfulness. They begin, in fact, even before that. They .begin with the First Principle and Foundation: with the love of Jesus reaching out to me in my nothingness; by the act of creation choosing me out of nothing. That in the. mind of Ignatius it is-Jesus who does this, is suggested by the fact that both in the Exercises and the Con-stitutions there is constant attribution to the Second Person incarnate not only the title of Savior but of tfiat of Creator. The next few paragraphs of the document: bring out what seems to be another essential i~ngredient of Jesuit identity. It is outward-looking more than it is inward-looking. After his conversion, the Jesuit fixes his gaze not so much on what goes on in tlie soul within him ~at on what goes on in the world around him. We are all familiar with the popular (and, one hopes, .~Jn 15.16. G"Jesuits Today," n. Ol. 7nh. 4-9. "Jesuits Today" / 4119 distorted) image of the Jesuit as a worldling, inclined to involve himself in mundane affairs which are none of his business; conducting himself in a manner far removed from the popular (and equally distorted) image of the "man of the cloth" as so completely wrapped up in, things divine that he cannot even change a blown fuse when the lights go out. Well; let's face it. There is an element of truth in this. We will find it in the initial response of the converted sinner as expressed in the key colloquy of the First Week of' the Exercises: "What have I done for Christ? What am I doing for Christ?. What must I do for Christ?" What to do. What, and where, is the action. This is not the initial response of other types or schools of spirituality. By way of contrast, we might paraphrase a passage from the Chinese phi: losopher Mencius, of which', surely, there are echoes in the Western world: Yoti wish to find God? God is in the heavens, .the infinite heavens. But the infinite heavens are reflected in a small pool deep.in a,well-~-the well of your soul. Plunge, then, into your soul, and there find God. But that is not what the Jesuit does.~ What the Jesuit does.is go into the Second Week of the.Exercises. There he hears Christ calling for-com-panions to go with him to conquer the~world,s There ~he looks up to God in his .Trinity of persons and finds their gaze also, fixed on the world, whose salvation they are d~ciding to accomplish? There,.he, sees Christ choosing mento send into the world to proclaim his sacred tehching,to persons ot~ every class and calling.~° From which it appears that the Jesuit instinct (or charism) is not to withdraw from the world to be~alone with God, but rather to turn to the world and ask himself, "Wh~t~ can Io do for God. in this world in whose midst I am, and to which I am sent?" This would seem to be the force of Saint Ignatius; assertion that the grace,by which the Jesuit is driven to serve men is identical with the grace by which he achieves his pe~:sonal salvation.1~ Or, as our document puts,it: "The grace of Christ that enables ~nd impels us to seeko'the salvation~and perfection.of souls' or what might be called in contemporary terms the integral liberation of man, leading to participation in the life, of God himself is the same grace by which we are enabled and impelled to seek 'our own salvation and perfection.' ,,1~ It was suggested earlier that "Jesu.its Today." is an "echo" document, echoing in the key of identity what the other documents of the congregation say about mission, compa~nionsh]p, freedoha, dis~ernment,~ and love. The emphasis ,on mission: that the Jesuit is essentially a man who is sent by Christ through the mediation ot~ those who hold Christ's authority, is clearly an echo of the document "Our Mission Today." 8Spir. Ex., n. 95. .~lbid., nn. 106-107. aOlbid., n. 145. a~General Examen, n. 3. ~-~"Jesuits Today," n. 1~1. 490 / Review for Religious, °l~'olume 35, 1976/4 The emphasis on companionship: that the Jesuit is essentially a com-panion, a companion of Christ first, but in Christ also of those whom he has called to the same companionship, is similarly an echo of the document on "Union of Minds and Hearts." The emphasis on freedom: that the Jesuit is essentially a man who is free, or rather, a man who has been set free, and this, paradoxically, by the vows that bind him, is an echo, at least in part, of the document on Poverty. The attitude towards the vows here brought out as characteristi-cally Jesuit is that they are not meant to enclose a man, to protect him from the world, to pluck him from the madding crowd and wall him up in some pleasance of peaceful contemplation--in the matchless phrase of Fray Luis de Le6n~ ~'la escondida senda por donde han ido/los pocos sabios que en el ~mundo hart sido"---but to detach him; to hack away from him all en-cumbering armor, and thus to free him from the constraints that may hold him back from any service in the world that Christ working in the world may require of him. The emphasis on discernment: that obedience for the Jesuit not only permits but demands discretion, is an echo, again, ,both of "Our Mission Today" and "Union of Minds and Hearts." It recalls Ignacio Iparraguirre's dictum that the Constitutions are not so much law-book as guide-book, and Pedro Arrupe's oft-repeated saying that being told what to do does not exempt us from the necessity of discerning how to do. In thi~ connection, it is surely significant that the command "to water a dry stick, or "to bring a lioness unto him (the superior)" of the Ignatius/Polanco Letter on Obedi-ence does not include detailed instructions on where to get the water or how to persuade the lioness. And, finally, the emphasis on love: that the Jesuit is essentially a man moved by a personal love for the personal Christ, is an echo not of any particular document but of what might be called the La Storta insight, which seems to have been recaptured, to a greater or less degree, by so many of the delegates to this congregation. As Father General Arrupe, bouncing up the back stairs of the house on Holy Spirit Street after breakfast one morning, put it to one of them, sleepily drifting down: "We proclaim the Gospel in poverty and humility-- fine. But perhaps to add: in love. There is much concern today about loving the Mystical Christ, seeing and serving him in our fellow men, espe-cially the poor; and that is good. But if we do this, is it not because we love Christ in himself, in his Person? Is it not because each of us, pilgrims with Ignatius, prays to the Father 'ponerme con el Hijo' (place me with the Son)?" Which obiter dictumomay serve to explain why our document says: "In love: a personal love for Jesus, whom we seek to know with an ever more inward knowledge that we may the better love and follow him; Jesus, whom "Jesuits Today" / 491 we seek, as Saint Ignatius Sought, to experience; Jesus, Son ot~ God, sent to serve, sent to set free, put to death, and risen from the dead.''~3 There is a lack of definition in what the document says about the So-ciety as a priestly body.TM It strongly asserts the elements which make up this attribute: that the core, as it were, of our membership is a group of brdained priests; that the vocation .to the Society is one; that it is the whole body of the Society that is priestly; and, consequently, that all its members share in that priestly attribute, even those who are not ordained ministers" of the Gospel. But as to the precise nature of that participation the document says nothing. This reflects pretty much the state of the question as the con-gregation left it. The general sentiment was that further theological reflec-tion was needed to say anything more on the subject, and it was hoped that this reflection would form a vital part of our ongoing renewal of spirit. If we now take a look at the document as a whole, we will notice that it has a certain quality of movement: this movement being, basically, that of the Spiritual Exercises. In other words, Jesuit identity is conceived not as state but as process. Companionship with Jesus begins with conversion: the realization that having been called to life by God Creator, then estranged from him by sin, I have been recalled to life by God Redeemer. This realization draws me to stand before (~hrist crucified and make my first oblation: What will I do for Christ? The First Week. Hard upon this conversion comes the call of Christ the King: "I want you to b~come my companion, and the companion of these Others whom I have also called." To do what, Lord? "To be sent, as I was sent. Into the world; not away from it. This world, your world; in all its diversity, agony, tragedy, hope: Sent to share with people the saving faith I have shared with you, and in my justice to reconcile men to God and men with each other." My response to which is my second oblation, the~Kingdom obla-tion: to bring Christ to men not by the witness of word alone but by the witness of life: in poverty, humility, and love. The Second Week. What is 'the range of this oblation? It involves all that the apostolate involves--for Jesus as well as those Who have asked to be'placed with him. Some' experience of success, certainly, and an abiding serenity; but also frustration, b~trayal, defeat, nakedness to p~in. An oblation to failure. An oblation t6 the CrosS. The Third Week. But out of the depths of failure, joy. The joy of total and mutual self-giving: Jesus to me, myself to Jesus. Day by day joyfully going to ttie work site with God the Workingman--habet se ad modum laborantis to build a world at once more human and more divine. My third oblation. Take and receive. 131bid., n. 27. 14Cf. ibid., nn. 21-22. The Freedom and Detachment of Submission Sister Mary Catherine Barron, C.S.J. Sister Mary Catherine last published in our pages in the March, 1976 isstie of Review for Religious. She resides at 808 Cypres.s St.; Rome, NY 13440. ' In his Asian-Journal, under a November 19 entry, Thomas Merton speaks of three doors which he posits as desirable for the eschatological pilgrim to enter: "the door of emptiness, the door without sign, the door without wish."' And in an earlier work of his, C~ontemplation in d Worl~l~of Action, Merton tells of the internal spiritual liberation which such surrender of self brings: ". a kind of permanent vacation in the original sense of 'emptying.' ''~ Perhaps it would be fitting for each of us in our individual lives to pon-der the possibility of taking a "vacation" through these three rather unin-viting doors. ~ Father JohnoQ. Haughey, S.J., in his most recent.book Should Anyone Say Forever? recounts a pos~sible interpretation of the statement of Jesus in Matthew 7:13-14 where he tells his disciples to "enter by the narrow gate" since this alone "leads to life." Father Haughey says: "The narrow gate Jesus was alluding to probably refers to the gate in Jerusalem which could only ~accommodate people unaccompanied by their possessions and camels and donkeys.''3 If we are to become such a people "v~cationing" through 1Thomas Merton. "The Himalayas/November 1-25." The Asian Journal ot Thomas Merton (New York: New Directions Paperback, 1973), p. 154. '-'Thomas Merton, "Problems and Prospects," Contemplation in a World o] A'ction (New York: Image Books, 1973), p. 36. aJohn C. Haughey, S.J., "The Underpinnings," Should Anyone Say Forever? (New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1975), p. 21. ,~ 492 The Freedom and Detachment o[ Submission / 493 ngaargreo-w-t ghaetne si ta nsed. te_~rr.ar.inss"p athreant tw doe omrsu, sutn benecguinm tbheere jdo ubyrn eexyc ewssit the mtwpoor raal tbhaegr- im-portant spiritual qu~ilities: freedom and detachment. And since Jesus never exhorted his foil6wers to any endeavor that he himself would not surpas, singly complete, qt would be well to follow in. his footsteps on the roadway to and through t_,hese beckoning (but sometimes, frightening) entrance-ways to the Kingdom. " The Free Christ '-Jesus was' a free man, able ~o commit himself to a way of life which in-evitably and irrev6.cab.!y would end in ignominious agony. Because he wa's free,,,he was also. supremely detached froin the picayune compromises Of life by which we' s6 ~asi!y bind ourselves to ~he transient. Categorically'~l~eaking, it seems that Jesus was free enough to:°sub-ject himself to 6th~rS (in his case, always his inferiors); subject himself to the law (re, ligi~'s and civil); subjeCt~ himself to the Transcendent (his Faiher). And ~e.c.a.u.s.e he was' unafraid of that type of subjection which we, in ~so utterly a human stance, avoid, C'firist becomes the detach.ed and liber-ated man, par ~exi~ellenc¢--i.nfi.nitely able to detach and .liberate us for him-self. Submission to Others ~,, In all. of hi,s relationships with others . (his creatures).,~ Jesus is able to submit{ His first profound submissibh in the womb of Mary initiates the patter.n of "nm:row gate" and "doors ,w, ithout signs" that he follows through-out 'his. life. Frbm the early Temple .expe.rience: "And he then~.went down with them . .;.'~and lived under their au, thority" (Mary and,. Joseph.), to Ca~a: "They have no wine" (whe~ he lberforms his first miracle through the intercession Of his mother), thro~ugh .his public, life: "Lord, that I may see~gain" (miracle after miracle upon request), to Calvary:" . ~h et y¯, . ,~,.led him awfiy to crucify, him,'! Jesus fi~lfills~ th6 will of others. Had he .done so out b.f mere fiuman weakness, or .the inability to assert himself and dominate, or through the petty hop~ of gaining prestige and popularity, wealth and'status, his final submission atGolgotha would be but the ~pathetic end,to an :already. doomed demi,gOd. But Jesus submits freely--in total self, surrender--comPletely in control o~ his own life and that of his corn temporaries. Knowingly, willingly, in complete gix;enness, he yields to others. Why? Why such a profound stooping into emptiness, into human obliterr ation, into the undesired door of death to self? "I have come that they may have life and have. it to the full,"-.J'~.sus answers (Jn 10:10). The words are haunting because they imply that fullness of life commensurately grows as we become more liberated and detached for others. If this is the pat-tern for Christ, can it be any,different for his followers? ~ 494 / Review [or Religioux, ~'olume 35, 1976/4 Submission to the Law Jesus also demonstrates throughout his earthly, existence that interior freedom enables one to become so detached from self that adherence to imposed human statutes becomes possible. He is born according to the law of the Scriptures, in fulfillment of the prophetic words and visions trumpeted through the ages of Salvation His-. tory, in complete accordance with all the signs and symbols which mani-fest his coming. And he dies in the same manner, as derided and rejected as Isaiah had seen that he would be, "lifted up" as he himself proclaimed, under Jewish rejection and Roman assent. And situated between those two n~atural, human laws of birth and death remain the countless daily submis-sions to civil and religious law which Christ fully and freely accepts. He announces in the Temple that "this day the Scriptures are fulfilled in your midst" (and in his person) while at the same time having scrupu-lously adhered to the proscribed religious rites. In response to the legalistic baiting by which the Pharisees hop,e to entrap him: "Master, is it permissi-ble for us to pay taxes to Caesar or not?" (Lk 20:22) Jesus judiciously replies: "Give to Caesar the things that are Caesar's; to God the things that are God's," thus delineating the parameters of civil and religious obedience. Ironically, it is his fulfillment of religious law (the feast of the Passover) which brings him to Jerusalem--to Annas, Caiaphas, and Pilate who sen-tence him to death. In the presence of these designated earthly authorities, Jesus, detached, submissive, and free, recalls the only reason for anyone's submission to human law: "You would have no power over me if it had not been given you from above" (Jn 19:11). Knowing this and authorizing it, Christ, freely gives himself over to these misguided, conniving, fearful, self-centered representatives of the Law, who wash their hands of him and conclude that "it is better for one man to die than that the whole nation perish" (Jn ~11:50). Again we are tempted to ask the question "why"--why this submission to human laws and human beings by one who is their Source and Origin? Perhaps the better question would be "how"? How do we become liberated and detached enough to do the same? Submission to the, Transcendent Once again Jesus provides us with the answer: "The world must be brought to know that I love the Father and that I am"doing exactly what the Father told me" (Jn 14:31). In other words, he tells us that we will only be able to submit ourselves to temporal rules and temporal persons if we have first submitted to the Eternal Rule and the Eternal Person: "Love the Lord, your God with your whole heart and soul and mind" (Lk 10:27). Christ did; Totally, constantly, unswervingly, he submitted to his Father: "I come not to do my own will but the will of the one who sent me" (Jn 5:30). And it is this~awareness of the Father's will and the Father's The Fr'eedom and Detachment of Submission / 495 love that is the motivating force of all of Christ's other submissions: "No one has ever seen God; it is the only Son who is nearest to the Father's heart, who has made him known" (Jn 1:18). Christ makes the Father known through his execution of the Father's will In the name of his Father, he cleanses the Tempir, restoring it as a place of worship, proclaiming it his Father's hous~e, and thus establishing, in one dramatic act, the power of his filial submission. In all his conversations with men, Christ consciously mentions the Father. To Nicodemus, he confides the reason that he has been commis-sioned by his Father: "God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not be lost but may have eternal life" (Jn 3: 17). To the Samaritan woman, he outlines the "kind of wor-. shipper the Father wants" (Jn 4:23). To the Jews, he openly acknowledges his dependence on the Father: "The Son can do nothing by himself; he can 0nly do what he sees the Father.doing" (Jn 5:19). And when his disciples ask him to "show us how to pray," .Christ refers them to the Father. Even when he teaches, Christ does so in the name of the Father. And the only authority he possesses for his teaching derives from his submis-sion to the Father: "The works my Father has given me to carry out, these same works of mine testify that the Father hasjsent me" (Jn 5:36); His final great submission to the Father coincides with Christ's final great submission to religious and civil law as dispensed through the hands of his human subjects. In perfect freedom, detachment, and submission, Christ foretells and then completes his passion and death. When you have lifted up the Son of Man, then you will know that I am he and that I do nothing of myself: what the Father has taught me is what I preach; He who sent me is with me, and has not left me to myself, for I always do what pleases him (Jn 8:28-29). Having uttered these profrundly simple words, Jesus stoops through the "narrow gate" of death, passes through the ."door of emptiness, the dorr without a sign, the door without desire"--the Cross. The Father loves me because I lay down my life in order to take it up again. No one takes it from me; I lay it down of my own free will, And as it is in my power to lay it down, so it is in my power to take it up again; and this is the command I have been given by my Father (Jn 10:17-18). What liberation and detachment infuse these submissive words! 496 / Review for Religious, Volume 35, 1976/4 The Paradox Merton would be among the first to assent to the paradox inherent in freedom, detachment, and liberation. He states: "Obedience [submission] is, paradoxically, the one guarantee of . . . charismatic, inner liberty" ~Contemplation, p. 34). And Christ himself was the first to demonstrate the paradoxical dimension inherent in following him: "Anyone who loves his life loses it; anyone ~vho hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life" i, Jn 12:25). The choice~is ours to mal~e. Haughey cogently reminds us that b~, our choices we are irrevocably defined (Should Anyone ¯ . . , p. 32). And Christ urgently.prods us to make his own irrevocable ~hoice. ours, when he claims:~ Eternal life is this; to know you, " the only true God ~" ~'~ ~ and Jesus Christ whom you have sent (Jn 17:4). In such knowledge, indeed, resides the foUndatiori arid reward for all the liberation, detachment~ and Submissidn of thepi!grim heart. ~ t'The three doors (they are one door) . .' Christ said: '!~am the door. I am the op~er~ing, the. '.shewing,' the revelation'" (Asian-Journal, pp. 154- 155). "Come follow m6"--through the "narrow gate~" through the "'un-marked, undesired doors;" into thd liberation and detachment of submis-sion- the Chri~tic "vacation" of love. The ,,'Active-Contemplative" Problem in Religious Life David M. Knight Father Knight is a member of the House o! the Lord community which staffs a "house of prayer" established in Memphis under the jurisdiction of Bishop Dozier. His present work is mostly in the. area of priests' retreats and team approaches to parish missions. He has published" before in 6ur page~, his latest title concerning religious government and obe~lience (July, i97]). His address: Nazarettl 'House of the Lord; 1306 Dellwood Ave.; Memphis, TN 38127. Can we still use the terminolbgy: "active-cQntemplative-mixed" to char-acterize religious life today? Aiad if we do use these tdims, ar, e we really using them in the way St. Thomas understood them--a way that carries oo the aut.horit3~ of his own tSrestige? Father Ladislas Orsy, S.J., suggests:that we abandon this terminology with its threefold division 9f religious life:" The arguments against the division are manifold. First,, all religious institutes are called to .be con~templative. Then, there cannot be true apostolic action in the ,full sense without its being rooted in the inspiration and strength of the Spirit which is contemplation." Finoally, tl~e express!on "mixed life" does not make s+nse. Action has to grow fi'om contemplation; they are 6rganically united, not mixed. ¯ . . "~here~'ore, so far as the distinction has a foundation, it must lie in the external way of life of these communities; in the specific approach to the realization of contemplation and action. TO avoid confusion, it might be better to describe this differentiation among religious by spe~king about fully enclosed life. moderately enclosed life, and fully open way of life. (Open to the Spirit, Washington (Corpus Books), 1968, pp. 271-272). 497 4911 / Review for Religious, l/'olume 35, 1976/4 Fathers Thomas M. Gannon, S.J., and George W. Traub, S.J. present St. Thomas's division as a distinction between "the contemplative life, the active life, and the apostolic life" (The Desert and the City, New York: Macmillan, 1969, p. 142). So far as I have been able to discover, St. Thomas does not use the term "apostolic" any more than he uses the term "mixed'" to describe a category of religious life (see George E. Ganss, S.J., " 'Active Life' or 'Contemplative Life'" in REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 22 (1963) pp. 53-66, esp. p. 61). He teaches that human life in general is divided simply into "active life" and "contemplative life" (Summa Theo-logica, II-II, Q. 179, art. 1) and that, in itself, the contemplative life is "more excellent" than the active (ibid., Q. 182, art. 1). But he adds that a man might be "called away from the contemplative life to the works of the active life on account of some necessity of the present life, yet not so as to be compelled to forsake contemplation altogether. Hence it is clear" that when a person is called from the contemplative to the active life, this is done by way not o] subtraction but o] addition" (ibid., ad 3, emphasis added). There is much evidence in St. Thomas's treatment of this subject to conclude that Thomas would consider all religious as belonging essentially to the category of contemplative life. Some reasons for this are: 1. The religious state is directed to the perfection of charity, which extends to the love of God and of 6ur neighbor (Q. 188, aLt. 2). But to direct one's whole life to growing in loving knowledge of God without which the perfection of charitY is impossible is to embrace the goal of the contemplative life. 2. The active life has two senses for St. Thomas: a) a life directed to the practice of the moral virtues as con-trasted with the theological virtues. The moral virtues (pru-dence, justice, temperance, fortitude) aim at the correctness of man,s external actions toward persons and things in this world (Q. 181, art. 1 and Q. 180, art. 2, Sed contra). The theological virtues (faith, hope, charity)aim at knowledge and love of God himself, as object. It is obvious that no one striving for the "perfection of charity" can make th~ moral virtues the goa.1 of his life. And Thomas teaches explicitly that if a person is practicing the moral virtues in order to arrive at contemplation, he is in the contemplative rather than in the active life (Q. 181, art. 1 and 2). And this is what religious do. b) In a second meaning, the active life is one which is taken up with external activities, such as active works of service to the neighbor. When Thomas argues in favor of this for religious he always seems to be working on the assump-tion that the religious in question is in the contemplative life, The "Active-Contemplative" Problem / 499 but that he accepts to leave contemplation partly or tempo-rarily and add works of the active life "in order that God's will may be done and for His glory's sake" (Q. 182,~ arts. 1 .~ and 2). That he assumes this to be the case when religious engage in active works is indicated by his answer to the question "Whether a religious order should be established for the works of the active life?" One objection against the proposition is that' every religious order belongs to the state of perfection, but the perfection of the religious state consists in the contemplation of divine things (Q. 188, art. 2, obj. 1). Thomas doesn't contradict this. He ~imply answers, "Since religious occupy themselves with' the works of the ' " active life for God's,sake, it follows that their action-results~ ]rom their contemplation o] divine things. Hence, they are not entirely deprived of the fruit of the contemplative life." (Emphasis added.) St. Thomas recognizes; however, that active work may result from contemplation in two ways. It may be that the work results from the full-ness of contemplation. A man contemplates God until"he is filled with a wisdom, an insight into the mind and heart of God, a graced understand-ing of the Scriptures, that overflows his heart and is shared with the neigh-bor 'in preaching or teaching. For St. Thomas, obviously, preaching and teaching are not something°'a .man .is prepared to do by academic study. The intellectual who is not a contemplative cannot teach or preach in St. Thomas's sense of the words, which refer precisely to a sharing with others of the fruits of one's contemplation. The merely academic teacher of theology, the eloquent intellectual in the pulpit, are nothing but sounding brass' and tinkling cymbal; their activity does not even enter into this dis-cussion. There are other works of the active life which do not presuppose the fullness of~contemplation: active works of service for the neighbor, such as taking care of guests, nursing the sick,., and so forth. And yet, if they are engaged in such works out of love for God and a desire to serve him perfectly in his Body on earth, they do proceed at least from a beginning of contemplation; from a prayerful response to the Scriptures. (If, such work should, in any given person, proceed from a merely humanitarian concern for others, it ~would not.be~ a Christian act, and again would not even enter into our discussion here. )" Also, St. Thomas presumes that, in religious, such activity is directed to the end of religious life, which is the '~perfection of charity." And since, as we have seen, this perfection cannot be conceived apart from contemplation which attains God directly in faith, hope and love, we must conclude that this activity, in a religious, is directed to the end of the contemplative life. In other words, a religious engaging in such active labors is; in 'fact, a contemplative.A given religious may not 500 / Review lot Religious, Volume 35, 1976/4 be a contemplative in the sense of having already attained that degree of spiritual deepening and prayer., which enables him or her actually to con-template in the full sense of this word, or to share with others the fruits of contemplative insight into the mysteries of God. But the religious is still a contemplative by reason of the.end to which his or her life is directed. Thus a postulant or candidate in a religious house who has not yet begun to pray seriously, who perhaps has little or no spiritual ~xperience to share with his neighbor~ and who spends his day washing dishes in the kitchen or teaching some secular shbject in a school--that person is, nevertheless, already in the "contemplative life." He is a contemplative in the same sense that a fetus in the womb is a human being: he is not yet sufficiently developed to function fully as a contemplative, but he is already intrinsically ordered, by a free choice of his destiny, to the "perfection of charity," to loving knowledge of God answered by a total gift of oneself. We should also apply to this qtiestion St. Thomas's reasoning about the pursuit of moral virtues belonging to the contemplative rather than to the active life if contemplation is its ultimate end (Q. 181, art. 1 and 2). If a man engages in :active works, but with the intention that through these he will rise to a more and more loving knowledge of God (contempla-,, tion), then this man, too, is inthe contemplative life, although .he.is occu-pied in the ,w~orks of the active life. We should remember here that even a monk in the most enclosed contemplative monastery is still engaged :in the works of the '.'active life"---even though he.is called a contemplative~ so long as he is at that stage of spiritual growth in which his main concern is acquiring moral virtues, and his prayer life is sti'il on the level of active meditation, spiritual reading, and such (see John of the Cross, Ascent of Mount Carmel, Book II, ch. 17, par. 4). To be engaged in the "works of~ the active life" not only means doing what we popularly refer to as "active work"--teaching, nursing, repairing houses, keeping books, etc. In its most fundamental sense this expression means actively using one's human powers to bring about, a change, whether in oneself or in outside reality, whether one does this through carpentry or through meditation on the. gospels. Contemplation, on the other hand, is resting in what one has~ already learned, already come to love, letting oneself be transformed without labor (not without pain) into what one sees. Where meditation is studying,~,think-ing, deciding, contemplation is looking, listening, loving. Thus we conclude that religious, even though entirely taken up with° external activity, truly belong in the category of "coritemplative life" so long as their works-- whether of moral virtue or of service to others--are not, for them, ter-minal activities in themselves, but means to arrive at a more loving knowP-edge of and union with God. As St. Thomas puts it: "When a man makes use of~ things pertaining to the active life, merely as dispositions to con-templation, such things are comprised under theocontemplative life" (Q. 181, art. 1; and see Q. 180, art. 4). We might have to. question ~ind The "Activ~e-Contemplative'" Problem / 501 qualify the word "merely" in this sentence, but the main point is clear: so long as a religious is aiming at the perfection of faith, hope and love, which is inseparable from contemplation, he is in the "contemplative Aife." What we call. the "active life" for religious, then, is one of two things: first, it~might be an overflow of contemplation. This might take the form of an overflow of love as well as of knowledge. That is, it might take the form,~not just of preaching and teaching, the two examples St. Thomas gives, but of heroic service in nursing, counseling, social action, or the like. In this first sense, then, a religious might be an "active" contemplative through any form of activity which is, .in this individual, so impregnated with grace and love that it~ results, in the given case~ from the "fullness of contemplation." In a second sense, the "works of the actiVe, life" might be a stage of growth toward contemplation--not towa~:d spending long hours in formal prayer, necessarily, but toward habitual contemplation, toward such intimacy with God in faith, hope and love, that° one is always, in a sense, seeing the face of God, and reflecting it (see Q. 182, art. 3). In the words of Gannon and Traub (The Desert and the City, p, 148), ¯ . . In Thomas' understanding as well as in the usage of other ascetical writer~ ~ ofthe time, the active life and the contemplative life designate successive but interacting stages of growth.ifi the interiorqife of a Christian' seeking "spiritual .growth, whether he be a religious or a layman. The active life is the earlier , stage where, seriously 'beginning his pursuit of living spiritually, he struggles ~ against sin and imperfections in himself and both learns and practices the moral virtues and the exterior acts @hich spring from them. Activity thus comprises the'Ltwo stages of spiritual growth which were later named "~he pur- ~. ~gative way of the beginners" and "the illuminative way of th6 advancing:" The :contemplative life, on the other hand, is a higher stage where the Chris, , tian practices c,.hiefly the theological virtues, especially charity, and under its inspiration works of love that witness to it. Among these manifestations of charity one often finds a growing desire to withdraw into solitude in order to achieve undistracted contemplation of God°. We are now better able to understand St. Thomas's comparison of the three kinds of religious orders. (Q. 188, art. 6): .° . The work of the'~active life (that is, the work that religious can do) is of two kinds. One proceeds from the fulness of contemplation, such as teaching and preaching . And this work is more excellent than simple contempla, tion. For even .as it is better to enlighten than merely to shine, so it is better to give to others the fruit of one's contemplation than merely to Contem-plate. The other work of the active life consists entirely in. outward occupa-tion, for instance, almsgiving, receiving guests, aiad the like, Which are less excellent than the works of contemplation, except in cases of necessity, as stated above.'. Accordingly, the highest place in religious orders is held by those which are, directed to teaching and preaching . The second place belongs to those Which are directed 10 contemplation, and the third to those which are occupied ~vith external acii0ns. J Tl~e lowest 'place among religious orders is held by those "which are 502 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/4 occupied with external actions." Understand here that these actions are not such that they must proceed from the "fullness of contemplation," such as authentic--that is, spiritually effective--preaching and theological teach-ing must be, but actions which achieve their proper end equally well whether the one performing them is a beginner in the spiritual life or a mystic. A candidate of one day in a religious order, if she is a skilled nurse, can nurse as well as another who has twenty years of contemplative prayer behind her. However, we must also understand that these actions can pro-ceed from the fullness of contemplation, in which case more will be taking place than just the action itself. A nurse who is a mystic will communicate the love of God, to her patient as well as she communica'tes all the human concern implied in good nursing care. If a given religibus order is set up in such a way that it effectively fosters in the members a contemplative spirit that will make all the external actions come from the fullness of con-templation, then that order belongs in the first, and highest, category .of religious ordersEnot in the third one. Likewise, an order established for teaching and preaching, if it is no longer such that it effectively fosters contemplation in the members, does not belong in the first category of religious life, but in this third, and lowest one. What we call here an "ac-tive" order, then, is one which is basically in the contemplative life, because it has loving knowledge of God as its end, but which is not really organized to produce this loving knowledge of God very effectively. An individual religious here and there might attain it, but the order as such does not concentrate on the attainment of. contemplative union with God, but just on the active work to be done. In such an order contemplative union with God will not be excluded as an end, of course; in fact, it will be specifically proposed (in words) as an end, and there will even be some prayer, or other spiritual exercises, prescribed or suggested to help the members attain union with God. But it will be obvious from the real structures and policies of the community that what the order as such is bent on is active service, with or without much progress in loving knowledge of God. If the com-munity's particular mixture--harmony, balance, formula--of prayer and service are such that they do, in fact, lead one to ri~e through the active stage of growth (active methods of prayer and emphasis on moral virtues as well as active service) to the loving knowledge of God that belongs to developed faith, hope and love, i.e. to the plane of developed contempla-tive life, then in that measure the order does not. belong in this third category of "active" .religious c6mmunities. We might ask here whether any "active" orders as we have just de-scribed them really exist. Here we have to distinguish between existing in ]act or existing juridically; i.e., existing as active orders because they have degenerated into mere service organizations or because that is what they were founded and accepted by the Church to be. ~It may be that in ]act, the majority of the orders we call "active" in the popular sense today The "'Active-Contemplative" Problem / 503 (meaning not strictly contemplative) have become ~tctive as described above. Juridically, however, many, perhaps most, were not founded to be this, as is clear in the history and constitutions of such communities as the Jesuits, Franciscans, Dominicans, and so forth. If, though, there are orders actually founded to be active in the sense we have described, then they were probably founded on a double principle of practical realism: first, some active task had to be performed, and dedicated hands were needed to perform it. Secondly, it was assumed that the persons who would be called to such a life would not be, as a general rule, apt material for a way of life that aimed at much more than solid moral virtue and a sound, con-sistent piety that kept one living and functioning as a dependable worker in the vineyard of the Lord. God might, of course, raise one to the highest contemplation and mysticism in such a way of life; but the life as such did not presume to aim so high. Let us be frank in admitting the possibility of a certain class distinction in this. Just as St. Ignatius hesitates to give to rudes (the crude, uninstructed, ignorant) more than the "First Week" of the SpiritualExercises (namely, the part that aims at conversion from, sin and systematic practice of the moral virtues: see Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius Loyola, Annotation 18: Louis J. Puhl, editor, Loyola Uni-versity Press, Chicago, 1951, pp. 7-8) so the founders of some religious communities seem to have assumed that their recruits would be mostly uneducated peasant girls, whose interior life would be adequately nourished by a few simple exercises of piety and a strongly structured community life. I do not know if this was the case, any more than I know if any "ac-tive, .order as we have described it was ever approved or founded to be such in the Church. But if such an order exists, it is easy to see why St. Thomas would give it the lowest place in his hierarchy of religious com-munities. It is also easy to see why the Church so ~asily grants permission to transfer from an active order to a contemplative order, if even part of the description of active orders as we have presented it above should be true. The second place on the scale of religious orders belongs to those "which are directed to contemplation." Since all orders are ordered to con-templation indirectly, at .least, this category obviously applies to those orders which occupy themselves primarily and directly in-exercises which by their very nature tend to foster contemplative prayer. We must recall that many of these exercises may belong, of themselves, to the "active life"; the practice of moral virtue, active methods of meditation and prayer, etc. To be a member of a contemplative order does not mean that one has already attained to contemplative prayer, or that one's life is actually char-acterized by a deep and habitual awareness of God in faith, hope and love. But it means that one's life is organized directly to foster this spiritual growth. Obviously this is a "higher" form of religious life than the active life described above. It is not yet the highest form of religious life, in St. 504 / Review [or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/4 Thomas's opinion, 'becausethe aim of the community is just the interior development°of its own members., The community is like a tree whose energies are all bent towards growth, but which is not yet mature enough~ to produce fruit. It,is better to aim at full developme]at than to be content with giving lesser fruit on a lower level, A developing fruit tree is a "higher" form of life than" a bush already serving to prevent erosion. So the orders we call "contemplative" are in themselves on a higher,plane than those we have described ~here as "active." The contemplative at least aims directly at~ spiritual growth towards contemplation, while the active qife seems to be designed for beginners who are going to remain on a non-contemplative plane of spiritual activity. St. Thomas assigns the "highest place" among religious orders to those "which are directed to teaching and preaching,"' but with the understand-ing that "preaching and teaching" presuppose contemplation: that what is preached'and taught is precisely the fruit of a contemplative life. He is not referring to those who teach secular subjects, or even to those who teach academic theology unless what they teach proceeds from the fullness of their contemplative prayer. We might add to St. Thomas's teaching' here-and pr~opose that "teaching and preaching" as the fruit of contemplation might be equally the work of a cloistered, contemplative commianity or of a community of Social activists busily reforming social structures in the political ~arena. What is r~quired for ,"teaching °and preaching" is not presence in the classroom or pulpit, but simply the fact ,of communicating to others the truth of God as this proceeds from that loving sureness of vision 'which is a mark of authentic contemplative prayer, It may well be that in" our day no teaching and preaching are more eloquent, or more needed, than the silent, inescapable witness of the,,monasie~ on the moun-tain top. Still another way to teach and preach has been brought very much before.~our consciousness these days. The Synod of Bishops, 41974, spoke of the "intimate connection" between the Church's work and concern for social justice and her task of evangelization. An earlier synod, 1971, went so far as to say that "action on behalf of justice and participation, in the transformation of the world fully appear to us as a constitutive dimension of the preaching of the Gospel." (Both texts available from U.S. Catholic Conference,Publications Office, passages cited fr6m p. 1'8 and p. 34, respectively.) By0 this principle any"outward occupation, even the very active one of political struggle for social justice, is. a form of Christian teaching and preaching--and 'in the sense that St. Thomas. uses the terms --provided that it truly proceeds from the fullness of contemplation and is done in such a way that what clearly appears to the world is the truth 'of Christ's own mind and heart~ embodied in unambiguous action. St. Thomas's argument for this hierarchy of religious orders is based on' two principles. The first concerns the value of the end that is aimed at; the second concerns the effectiveness of the means employed, to achieve The !'Active-Contemplative" Problem / 505 the end. Orders which share the r+sults of their contemplation with others are more excellent than those whic~h just, contemplate, because these orders aim at the end of all religious life, the perfection of charity, in a way that includes more of the end, more of[the good that "charity" embraces. They organize their lives in a way design,'ed both to bring them to a more loving knowledge of God,in contemplati,~n, and to be of service in love to the neighbor (Q. 188, art. 6). Remember that, as we have explained this, any .I religious order, from the most clo~.stered contemplatives to the most active workers in the Church, can belon~g to this third and highest category of rehg~ous life provided that the commumty truly has a. formula for living that combines prayer and service in such a way that the community "speaks" to the Church out of tl~e fullness of contemplative insight into God. The superiority of such an order is based on the fact that the end to which it is directly ordered includes, both the good of contemplation and the good ,of active service to the! neighbor. It is obviously this kind of community St. Thomas has in mi~d when he argues that a religious order i . can be founded for works of the acuve life because their activity "results from the contemplation of divine ihings" (Q. 188, art. 2) and that~ a per-son who is in the contemplative life can .be called away from exercises of contemplation to works of the active life without losing anything bec~ause his engagement in active works is idone "by way not of subtraction but of addition" (Q. 182, art. 1 ). In suctl a case one does not forsake contempla- . tion entirely, but only partly or te~mporardy in order to add works of the active life (ibid. and art. 2). Thus such a community is "better" because "its end is a greater good." I Hence a religious order is preferable to another if it be directed to an end that is abso.lutely more excellent eit,her because it is directed to a greater goo~!,~ or. to more goods (A. 188, art. 6). This is the first principle by ~vhich St. Thomas rates religi6us orders, the principle that looks to the goo~d or end they are directly structu.red to attain. The second principle looks ito the suitability of the means emplpyed to achieve the end: !. If, however, the end be the same, 'ithe excellence of one religious order over another depends secondarily, not o~ the amount of exercise, but on the pro-portion of the exercise to the end in view. Wherefore, in the Conferences of The Fathers (Coll. ji, 2), Blessed Anthony is quoted~.as preferring discretion, wherebY, a man moderates all his at c¯ tions, to fastings, watchings, and all such observances ( ibid). I In evaluating a religious community we should look to its structures. The question is not really how austere the community is, or how strict its life appears to be. Nor is the question how human the community is, or how free its members, seem to be. The real question is: how well are its structures adapted to helping the members attain the goal of religious lile? 506 / Review Jor Religious, Volume 35, 1976/4 A tight ~community is no better than a loose one--and no worse. Whatever leads persons to the perfection of charity--towards God and neighborm is the ideal of religious community policy. St. Thomas warns that a religious order is not better because it has more penitential practices than another, more prayer than another. But in our day we may be failing into the same error he warns against under a different form. In our reaction against some of the rigidities and distorted practices of the past, we have perhaps apotheosized another set of values, made idols out of some other very particular and limited ideals. We have refocused our attention on-freedom and personalism, discernment and dialogue, community life and social involvement. And because these values are good,~we are under the illusion that in pursuing them we are renewing religious life. The truth of the matter is that religious life is not renewed by .any community exercise as such, whether it be dialoguing or taking the dis-cipline together. Religious life is renewed by discovering, in prayer and surrender to the Holy Spirit, an integral and harmonious set of structures that correspond to the complete goal of the community. If growth in con-templation, for example, understood as loving knowledge of God, is an integral part of the community's aim in life, then the community must in-corporate into its life-style specific and effective structures that really promote this growth. To affirm the ideal in words in the Constitutions is not enough. Communities should be evaluated, not by the orthodoxy of their statements, but by the effectiveness of their structures. What a com-munity really is should be judged, not by the goals it proposes to itself, but by the means it is willing to commit itself to in order to achieve these goals: and commit itself to realistically by building them into its life-style. We might ask what point there is in comparing religious orders. After all, the "best" order for any individual is the one which is most suited to his own temperament, stage of growth, and particular call from God. What point is there in comparing'religious orders in the abstract? I think that the precise point of all this is that the three categories we find in St. Thomas are not meant to be--or at least cannot be taken today to refer to---three different patterns for authentic life. We are not really offered three different choices of what a religious order can aim at. I believe that in St. Thomas's sense every religious order must be founded for "~teaching and preaching" if it is to be Christian. For the teaching and preaching that we intend here is nothing more specific or less spiritually profound than Christian witness. A religious vocation is a gift from God. But it ig a gift like those St. Paul speaks of in 1 .Corinthians, chapters 11- 14: manifestations of the Spirit given for the common good. A purely active religious order that really did not provide within the structures and policies of its communal living, means effectively to promote spiritual growth--growth towards deeper and deeper contemplation (under- The "Active,Contemplative" Problem / 507 stood not as longer hours of forma!, contemplative prayer, but as an ever more constant loving awareness of God and of all other things in the authenticity of their being as relation to God) would hardly be a legitimate form of life in the Church. At the most it would be legitimate as a com-munity that understood and accepted itself, with frank humility, as a com-munity for persons incapable of ~rogressing beyond the level of moral virtue in the spiritual life. But can.[we believe that any such category ac-tually exists? And would such a community really be viable? Would its apostolate really be valid? Yet I think we have around us in the present day examples of communities which have become in fact, if not in desire, purely "active" communities. The level of prayer is very low. Deep under-standing of the life of grace is praciically non-existent. This is not in every individual, of course, but it is embodied in the communal expression of the community as a whole. In these, communities does an authentic "apos-tolate" really exist? We may run sc,hools or hospitals, may engage in social service or social action with enthusiasm, and labor to the point of exhaus-tion. But by our fruits we must be judged. Are our schools producing peo-ple who have been touched by an ,encounter with Jesus Christ as a person --real in himself and active in his ,Body on earth today? Are our hospitals symbols and witnesses to the whol~ world of Christ's healing concern for the poor, the suffering, the afflict~ed? Is our reform of social structures permeated with the spirit of the beatitudes. Where the labor and service of an "active" order does not reail3} "teach and preach" the truth of Christ and the gospel, is that labor reall~ an apostolate? And can one's activity express the truth of the gospel if it! does not rise from a loving con.templa-tion of that truth within one's own!, heart,° a contemplation that makes one alike in one's being to, what one sees? Let us suppose, on the other h~nd, a more contemplative order, either a cloistered community or a veryI explicitly prayerful, active commumty. And let .us. suppose that it is so turned in-on itself, so defensive against all that is going on in the Church, sd protective of its own traditional struc-tures in their last, rigid detail, thatlthe community as a whole is not a wit-ness to anyone in the Church. Or w.orse: let us say the community ',speaks" to a diehard minority of crustacean Catholics who are clamped like barnacles onto anything in the ChUrch that~has the appearance of a rock. Suppose the community really exists to encourage a faction in the Church to believe, in opposition to the main body of the hierarchy, that Vatican II is only a passing wave:~that will soon get over us, leaving things exactly as they were before? It would be hard to accredit such a community as truly contemplative, of course, no matter how much time they spent in silence and stances of prayer. But one clear reason why the community would be invalid even as a contemplative community is that the com-munity would have no truly apostohc d~mens~on. They would not .be preaching and teaching--not in ~the name of the Church and for the 508 / Review lor Religious, Volume 35, 1976/4 Church--but in the name of a factional spirit that is resisting the life of the People of God. Sucti communities are teaching a spiritual archeology and calling it biology:' holding up fossils to the world as the living Body of Christ. Let us suppose another.contemplative order, one still in its beginning stages. Let us say it is set up to be ~a community of solitaries. In its first efforts to really achieve solitude and a true spirit of prayer this community may have to defend itself to some extent even from contacts with the main body .of the Church. "It may ~have to. withdraw far into' the wilderness, far from the paths of men, and jealously guard its privacy for a while. To this extent it'can appear, momentarily at least, as a "counterwitness" to the ~solidarity of the whole Church's sharing in the charismatic .gifts of ~every member and group. But soon, if the community's charism is authentic, the flow of life back into the Church in the form of "teaching and preach-in~" .must begin anew. The monastery will begin to shine as a 4ight in the world--and most visibly to. the Church--through its manner of life and prayer. More than lik.ely pilgrims and pray~ers will begin to come, and they will be welcomed in the spirit of open faith traditional to monastic communities: a spirit of hospitality which receives each guest as possibly sent from God to receive or to give a blessing only God foresees in its details. On a level that is deeper yet than hospitality, and theologically more fundamental, the community must always understand itself, very con-sciously, as called and gifted for the benefit of the whole Church: The community must be aware of, and concerned about, what its life is "saying" to the Church, and what the Church's life is saying to it: how its self-understanding matches and fits into the ~ Church's contemporary under-standing of herself. The enclosed life must not" be a seIJ-enclosed life. There is no self-enclosed life in the living Church, the organically-inter-dependent mystical Body .of Christ. The reactionary community, be it monastic or non-monastic, is a non-apostolic community. Whether it spends twenty-four hours a day behind monastic wails or eighteen hours a day exhausting itself in the inner city, the community that has ceased to inter, act vitallywith tile Church is a non-apostolic community. How can a group that has sealed itself off from the Church's life claim in spite of this to be "sent" by the Church or to the Church? It is not possible, therefore, for a contemplative (or any other kind of) community to be authentically Christian. if it opts 'to live solely in its own little ~world of private tradi-tions, and practices, oblivious to all that is taking place in the life of the worldand the Church around it. To be truly contemplative, 'then, is to be apostolic by that very fact. And to be authentically ~apostolic one must be contemplative. And to be either, or both, in .the Church one must be in vital, responsive contact with. the. rest of the Body of Christ on earth. This contact crosses denominational The "~4ctive-Contemplative~' Problem. / 509 . lines: an authentically prayerful com, munlty of Protestant Christians (Taiz6, for example) speaks very eloquent!y to Catholics, and vice-versa. But a community that has set itself up as[ a standard for the Church, in opposi, tion to the movement of the Holy Spirit in the Church, speaks to no one. If the community is factional in a ]reactionary sense, clinging, to the past while the (~hurch moves into the future with God, its teaching becomes a "spiritual necrophilia," a fascinatioo with what is dead and controllable, based on fear of responsible encouhter with the Living God. °If the com-munity is factional in a progressive '~ sense, caught up in the .current of this world:rather than moved by the v~inds of the Spirit, then its teaching is idolatry: 'it receives man-made images from the pagans, or shapes them: from its contemplation of the worla, and presents them to the People of God as a ~graven image, a reflectioh of man's own contemporary face, to Worship as the new face of God. What, then, should We say in conclusion about the traditional threefold division of religious orders into "active," "contemplative" and "mixed"? First we should recognize that the word "mixed" may not legitimately claim a place in our tradition aldngside the categories of "active" and "contemplative." To describe the th'ird category as !'apostolic" rather than mixed (as G;innon arid Traub do) is misleading,~ because it implies that' the other, two categories, are non-i~postolic. This could be justified,° per-haps, if we_use "apostolic" t,o :refer~ in a very strict sense to precisely the kind of life the twelve Apostles' le, d,.as Father Orsy does (Open to the Spirit, pp. 273ff.). But', this is not thee meaning the word "apostolic" evokes when we ,:use it. In current usage~ "apostolic" means bringing grace to others as Christ's instrument, contributing by~(~ne's life' to the redemptive work, of the Church. Father Orsy"p0ints out this distinction very succifctly when .'he~ Says of rehg~ous, All are ,apostles but not all apostles follow the~ apostles', way of iife" (ibid.):ii, St. Thomas seems to recognizeIonly two categories of life for human beings, the contemplative and the active. He seems to assume that all re-ligious are in the contemplative li~fe by °virtue of the fact that they are striving for the "perfection of charit:y," which cannot be conceived of apart from that loving knowledge ~of God which is c'ontem~lation. Likewise all religious must be apostolic, 'became love of neighbor is included in the perfection of charity., . In the organization; the~structufing of religious life, however, one com-munity differs from another. Some ~ommunities organize their lives almost entirely toward actiVe works of sergice: Contemplation is still a recognized goal (asit is of every fully Christian life), but the community as such does not directly aim at it in any signifidant way through communal policies or structures. So far as the communl!y as a whole is concerned, its visible stance, embodied in structures, points it: only toward active service, and toward the active stage of spiritual "growth. Spiritually the community is 510 / Review [or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/4 geared to the level of moral virtue. Each member is expected to labor generously in the vineyard of the Lord, and to live peacefully and coopera-tively in community. The vows as such are not stressed except as a basic and not particularly elevated platform on which to live and work. Mem-bers are called upon to live celibately and purely, to make simplicity and sharing the characteristics of their relationship to material things, and to subordinate personal preferences to the decisions and goals of the com-munity where the common good requires this. This life of "reasonable service" is nourished by workshops, discus-sions, and reading; by some sustaining prayer, and methods of personal and communal evaluation and accountability. Good liturgies and theological input are welcomed where available. Spiritual direction is encouraged for those who feel the need of it and can find a director. Everyone is expected to find time to make an annual retreat of five to eight days, and allowed to make it usually, on whatever level of depth the individual desires. If a person lives a morally virtuous life within this framework, causes no trouble in community, and does his or her work well, the community will ask nothing more: This describes the kind of religious community we have called "single-mindedly active," and it may correspond to the reality St. Thomas defines in his comparison of religious orders as a community "occupied with external actions." There is a direct concern for the spiritual life in these communities, but the level of spiritual life aimed at is that which will sustain the members in their active work for the Church and in their inter-action with one another in community life. For anything beyond this the individual must seek means and support on his own. Other communities are singlemindedly contemplative. They embrace structures and organize their lives in such a way that the way of life itself is a constant impetus toward growth in specifically Christian faith, hope and love. In these communities the life is so designed that anyone who is simply leading a life, of good moral virtue and pei'forming well in com-munity and in his work will have it brought home to him with increasing conviction that he is nothing but a "useless servant" (Lk 17:10). The whole manner of ~living is specifically designed not to. make sense except as an expression of the mystery of Christian. faith. And therefore a person must be constantly aware of this mystery to find the life even bearable. The key here is not austerity as such, but simply the absence of any rea-son within this world for living as one does. This "faith or foolishness" quality, stands out with dramatic clarity in the cloistered contemplative life, where not even work can be used as a justification for the way one lives. The active religious might be able to tell himself in moments of waver-ing faith that even if there is no God it is worth the sacrifice of family and possessions just to devote oneself to one's fellow man in his poverty, his sickness, his ignorance. It is certain that many active religious and priests The "~4ctive-Contemplative" Problem / 511 pour themselves out in work in order not to have to face the deeper ques-tions of their relationship to God in fi~ith. It is more difficult for the cloist6red contemplative to do this. He ~ight try, but everything in the life-style he is submerged in will cry out to him what he is doing. The cloistered orders give a place to prayer that is obviously not intended just to support a life of moral virtue or keep people generous in their work. The poverty, pursued by these communities is, as a rule, a level of deliberately-sougllt deprivation not imposed by circum-stances or embraced just out of a s~nse of solidarity with the poor, a style ~of life designed to be congruous. Religious obedience is recognized, not just as a means to harmonious, cooperative living, but as a form of kenosis and a way of surrendering to the Holy Spirit in the Mystical Body of Christ. And the structures of com-munity life embody this understanding of religious obedience and of the government that corresponds to it. ~Within such a context celibacy is both understood and expressed as a poSitive way of relating to God through Christ in a relationship of growing lintimacy, mutual comprehension--and gift, ' Communities designed to express and to lead to' the fullness of Chris-tian knowledge and love of God and of all other things in the light of God are obviously, in St. Thomas' opinion, preferable in themselves to communities that do not aim at this. If it came to a choice between one or. the other--an either-or alternatave Thomas would say the second kind of community is the better choice in itself. It is better, in the abstract, to be a singieminded contemplativ~ than to be singiemindedly active. It might be, however, that for a givenl individual, or in a given set of circum-stances~ it would be a better thing in the concrete case tO choose the more active form of life. But are we really faced, in theory at least, with an either/or alterna-tive. Granted that the choice betw,een an enclosed, a cloistered life and a non-enclosed life is an either/or alternative. Granted again that the choice between a life of solitude and continuous contemplation in the sense of an undistracted intellectual preoccupation with God is an either/or alternative to a life of active, absorbing labor.' Still, "actively' and "contemplative" do not have to be either/or alternatives. Contemplation need not be restricted in its meaning to the absorption of the intellect in God during periods of formal prayer, Contemplation can be, and ought to be, a total and con-tinuous attitude of mind and heart; an ~rientation toward God and an awareness of relationship with God in all that one does and encounters (see Gannon and Traub's seventh ]chapter, "Finding God in AllThings," op. cit., p. 152ff.). This awarenes~l of God in all things is fostered both by periods of formal prayer (experience teaches that. these are normally indispensable) and by a total life~-style that expresses emphatically and 512 / Review for Religious, l/olume 35, 1976/4 unambiguously the faith, hope and love of which one wishes to remain aware. For St. Ignatius of Loyola the key to continuous contemplation is an ever-growing abnegation of self and a continuous stance of renunciation towards this world embodied in concrete choice (see Gannon and Traub, op. cit., chapters seven and eight: "Finding God in All Things" and "The Logic of Christian Discernment," esp. pp. 158- 172). For St. Thomas Aquinas the choice presented by the active and con-templative life-options is not an either/or choice but a triple one: either the active life, or the contemplative life, or both. In the third option one chooses to live in a way that leads to contemplation and in additio.n to this to share with one's neighbor i.n service the results of one's contemplative life. It may be--this We neither defend or dispute--that St. Thomas made too much of a distinction between contemplation and action, conceiving of contemplation too narrowly in terms' of an explicitly intellectual absorp-tion in formal prayer. It may also be, as I believe the case, that he did not understand, or at least develop, how many kinds of activity could be included under the term "teaching and preaching" that for him designates the kind,.of work in which th~ fruits of contemplation are shared. But if we follow the principles of St. Thomas's doctrine, I believe we arrive at an ideal of, religious life towardwhich every community can aim. This is re-ligious life characterized by a double end: that of growing explicitly in loving knowledge of God in faith, hope, and love while explicitly ordering one,s life to the spiritual benefit of the neighbor. Such a life must not only be explicit about its end. It must also incorporate effective means to produce the contemplative spirit and apostolic effectiveness sought. In the measure that a given form of religious living really does produce contemplative peo-ple and really does "speak" to the Church in a solid and effective way, that life corresponds to St. Thomas's ideal. This ideal of St. Thomas~was expressed in,Vatican Council II as the ideal, not of one particular category of religious order, but of religious life itself: ", ¯ . . As they seek God before all things and only Him, the members of each community should combine, contemplation with apostolic love. By the former they adhere to God in mind and heart; by the latter they strive to associate themselves with the work of redemption and to spread the Kingdom of God. (Decree on the Renewal o] Religious Li]e, part 5, Abbott p. 47~0. See also Orsy, op. cit., chapter seven, "Filled with Grace and Power: Contemplation," esp. pp. 209, 254). The "mixed" life, in other words, is not really an option in religious life:if we use the term in the sense developed here, it has tobe an aim. To'~be practical we should suggest in conclusion that every religious take a good, hard look at.the concrete reality of his or her community's life. What concrete structures, policies, activities, or provisions: of com- The "Active-Contemplative" Problem / 513 munity life are specifically designed ~to foster the contemplative spirit? How effective are they? What real priod~ty are they given in the actual life of the community? How much do they influence community decisions? In what visible ways do they determiqe the community life-~style. Secondly, what is the life of the community saying to the Church? What are the real effects of the c~mmunity's work? What are the fruits of its apostolate? Is the communityiin reality working for the Kingdom of God, or just working and offering ~hat work in some general way for the Kingdom .of God? Is the .community corporately ~fiware of the difference between a life of moral virtue and a life of theolbgical virtue? Is there an insistence, in visible, concrete ways, that each member keep growing to the level of perfect faith, hope, and love? Or d~es the community in its actual policies insist only on a good day's work and a cooperative spirit in community? To be a "good religious," an acceptable member of the community, how much contemplative spirit is required? Are prudence,~justice, temperan.ce, and fortitude enough? o. ~ It is certainly legitimate for an individual to live the "active" life during certain periods of his spiritual growth. But this is only legitimate if th~ active life is seen as a phase of growth ordered toward achieving contem-plation. Or the active life can be added to the contemplative as a way of sharing its fruits with others. But ithe active life as such cannot be the final goal or total plan of any serious;Christian's life. What is legitimate for individual~ is legitimate for communities. That is, a community can structure its corp9rate; its communal life to be "active" for some members or for a certain~ time. But this is legitimate only if the community situates its active life-s~tyle within the broader context of an identifiably contemplative life-style~. The community must .be able to identify the explicit elements in its overall style of living--its structures and policies--that present the contemplative life to its members and foster its growth. The community must be able to show that it is concretely geared --and not just abstractly committed~to bring its members to the "per-fection of charity," the fullness of the loving knowledge of God. If a community is not willing or able to do this, it should take the responsibility of redefining itself. It should present itself to its members and to the ~world as a singlemin~ledly "active" community, a "service orgamzatlon in the Church. This ,;vould be,' in St. Thomas's explanation, a third class religious order. A second-class religious order ~would be one that is committed and geared toward achieving contemplation, but which frankly acknowledges that it is not strong enough in itsl contemplative life to take on an ex-plicitly apostolic dimension. By "apostolic dimension" I do not mean, of course, just active work. A comm.hnity of solitaries strictly cloistered in the desert can have a fully-developed apostolic dimension. By "apostolic 514 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/4 dimension" I mean an explicit concern about what one's life is "saying" to the Church. (This is, I believe, a legitimate interpretation of what St. Thomas means by "teaching and preaching.") Any community can put this concern aside temporarily. A novitiate house, for example, or a new religious older in its first beginnings; might have to forget for a while about what it is saying to the Church in order to concentrate exclusively on what God is saying to it. But a community which did not see itself as ever having any concern~except the growth and sanctification of its own members would have to acknowledge itself as a second-class religious order--a sort of spiritual hospital for people who are never expected to become strong enough to share the burden of the Church's mission. I seriously question whether either of' these first two choices~ are legitimate options in religious life. If religious life (like every,.valid Christian life) has the per[ection of charity as its goal, it seems a contradiction in terms that one would accept to be a second- or third-class religious. Realistically, I think ,the value of St. Thomas's distinctions lies in the help they give us in recognizing situations that ought to be temporary in the life of religious communities; situations we might be tempted to accept as permanent. We have mentioned a legitimately' exclusive preoccupation with one's own spiritual growth, provided it is temporary. We see in the life of the active orders around us a-similar preoccupation at this moment in history, but which might not be recognized for what it is. After Vatican II, when religious renewal began in a massive way, one religious com-munity after another awoke to the distortions that had crept into our understanding of religious life. We realized that in our efforts to become spiritual we had lost s~ight of ,what it was to be human. Words like "ful-fillment" and "interpersonal relationships" began to punctuate our con-versations. We threw ourselves into the rediscovery of our emotional and affective lives. We made acceptance of ourselves h religious goal, and embraced as a duty the grateful enjoyment of this world as God's gift. Words like "renunciation" and "abnegation" became "trigger" words, sym-bols of a repressive' and distorted spirituality that blanketed human values and suffocated human personality under an all-covering mystique of self-sacrifice. Religious began to pursue courses and workshopg for their own intellectual and psychological development. Individuals began to take responsibility for their own decisions and to speak up like adults in com-munity discussions. We went in for group decision-making and discern-ment. The emphasis was placed on personal responsibility. Bells were abolished, the time and place for prayer left up to each individual. Supe-riors were abolished, too, in many cases and group accountability substi-tuted for personal, spiritual ,government. People began to furnish their rooms in ways that expressed acceptance of the world rather than austerity. Convents went in for bright curtains, pink bed spreads and teddy bears. A rich variety of food and drink became available twenty-four hours' a day. The "Acttve-Contemplative" Problem / 515 Smoking and drinking ceased to be tabu to nuns. The ancient practice of the "peculium" so constantly condemned in religious tradition, came back in the form of personal budgets. Nuns and priests started dressing to ex-press their individual personalities as well as their maleness or their womanhood. Sisters experienced what it was to "feel like a woman again," for better or for worse. Priests and seminarians fell in love with sisters,~ and sisters fell in love with them. Some left religious life and got married. Those who remained began to speculate on the "complementarity of tlie sexes," and to ask how one's human sexuality could be integrated into a celibate life without compromise to chastity. Experiments were acted out, mistakes were made. Growth resulted, tragedy resulted; there was good and evil! In all of this there has been in religious community life an absorbing corporate preoccupation with "self." Religious communities have turned their gaze inwards, trying to straighten out their own house. For the time beirig many communities have become more concerned with what religious life is saying to them than they are with what their religious life is saying to the Church. In many specific instances, communities have defied alike the prejudices of the laity and the precepts of Rome. In their intense ef-fort to listen authentically to what God is saying to them, it would seem that some religious have become less attentive to the voice of the wider Church, whether this comes from the ranks of the People of God or from the official representatives of that People. A temporary preoccupation with self is legitimate and good, even on the community level. But no real discernment.or renewal of religious life can take place in the long run in isolation from the People of God. Re-ligious cannot ignore what their life is saying to the rest of the Church. As long as a community is doing this, or has to do it, it is engaged more in spiritual therapy for its own members than in making its contribution to God's people. It may well be that for a certain time a religious community may have to direct all its efforts toward "becoming human." Perhaps the human values of responsibility, affectivity, self-acceptance, and interper-sonal relationship have been lost through a distorted way of living in the past. These values may have to be recovered. But if a religious community accepts as its permanent goal in life, and as its normal guideline for community policy, the ideal of "becoming human," that community must inquire into its place in the overall community Of the People of God. So long as a community is mainly preoccupied with the healing of its own self-inflicted wounds it falls, I believe, into St. Thomas's second cate-gory of religious life. Whether the community is exclusively preoccupied with becoming divine through contemplation, or with becoming human through sensitivity sessions and the use of creatures that reinforce people's sense of personal ~worth, it is not yet strong and mature enough to share with others the fruits of a healthy and developed spiritual life. We should 516 / Review for Religious, Volume 35, 1976/4 recognize this and make sure that we do not accept a temporary, therapeu-tic situation as normal policy for religious life. We can set up spiritual hos-pitals for oursel~,es on a temporary basis. But .if the raison d'etre of our lives is just to constitute a healing milieu of humanness, our expectations for the future should be that no healthy human'beings will apply. Religious life is intended to lead people through active and contempla-tive stages of growth to that developed maturity of life, both human and divine, which allows each person to become a word of grace made flesh; a word of light, of life, and of love spoken tothe People of God. Religious life structured to this goal is the first, the highest, and I believe: the only authentic form of religious life. St. Thomas's distinctions invite us to look at three levels of value in religious life and tO ask" ourselves if our own communities are concretely and effectively geared to achieve them all. To a Young Sister on Her Final Profession Day You .,ask me for a poem, Sister, in honor of this day on which you place for all eternity, your life. your total self~ within the Heart of Him who called you, drew you, in a thousand subtle ways to 'love Him for Himself alone. But how can words of human speech express what is forever inexpressible, what can be only numbly felt :by hearts too grossly fles!! Even the Psalmist's flame-tipped words that ride ~he winds and pierce the clouds fall, helpless, to the ground. The only poem I can give you, Sister, is a prayer, whispered in the depths of nay own heart, to Him who dwells there too, as in Your own. And even that prayer says less in words than in desire. Love Him---trust Him--always, Sister, until that day when there will be no need of poems or words but only of that Word who is all love that ever was or is ° or can be. He is your poem, Sister! Sister Mar~c'Luke, c~S.]. 3556 Rocky River Drive Cleveland, OH 44111 The Incomplete Conversion J. 'Rankin, King~ . Mrs. Kin"g graduated from St. Louis University in 1973. She has pfiblished poetry in The Haiku Anthology, Poet atid~,C~itic arid elsewhere. She 'is presently engaged in research fin the .field of comparative re!igious,experience. Her address:. Nativity Hermi-tage;. Taos, NM 87571. We are b~ now, as participant observers,, nearly used to~ the revived in-terest in spirituality which has characterized the seventies, jStudies .and ex-periments inthe practices of Eastern Orthodox and Asian traditions oc-cupy~. a small but well educated and serious° number of cgntemplative re-ligious: Monumental tasks of research and translation by monastic scholars pr_o_mise considerable assurance that the monastic renewal will be both sound, and profound. A. reawakened interest at. the popular level in the role of .the, Holy Spirit in Christian life heightens mass awareness of God's saving ,pr.e~sence. ,Chri_stocent~ic~,incarnationalism, more intellectual than the popular movement, less comprehensive than the monastic effort, pro.- vides a vehicle for renewed devotion to th.~:, humanity of Christ among many priests and religious. These tendencies exist beside, and tend to color th_e spiritualities o.f, the religio_us orders which are more and more coming to be seen as mutations of and variants upon the one-basic spiritually of ~the Church Universal, simple ,and whole, the spirituality of the ages. Of all these, this essay .will °attempt to deal 0nly with the contemporary popular tendency. It, will stress its weaknesses rather than its strengths, its situation of risk rather than its posture of promise, because it is, among the trends developing at pres_ent, at once the most massive and the most fragile. It. is my hope that this approach will contribute more at the pres-ent moment to the ongoing recovery of spiritual discipline among us than the positive one which has been the more common over the past few years. 517 518 / Review ]or Religious, F'olume 35, 1976/4 While the popular spiritualities of the prayer group and the pentecostal meeting discover their sources in traditions outside the Church, they may also be accurately described as reactions to the conventional spirituality that preceded them. That earlier spirituality stressed rule and form, this proposes the Spirit and the spontaneous. That spirituality was rooted in the prescriptions of the spiritual manuals, this adventures without them. If that spirituality had nearly forgotten the Illuminative Way, this is ignorant of the Purgative. That spirituality put affectivity to its bow and aimed it upward, often so austerely as to be accused of being cold. This is charac-terized by a diffuse and volatile emotion. Conventional spirituality was a spirituality of reserve, interiority. Popular spirituality celebrates the mani-fest, effuses. Their differences are sufficiently radical to render them remote and, in a very profound way, both antipathetic and antithetical to one another. ~ And yet both have this in common, that the first had forgotten and the second has yet to learn the meaning of metanoia~f metanoia not as moment but as process. It is ironic that popular spirituality, in setting out to recapture the Spirit and the Life, should bear within itself, also, that precise element the want of which drained the previous spirituality of ex-actly those things. For it was certainly °its failure to grasp and implement the mechanics of the Purgative Way--that radical reaction to the discovery of one's own sinfulness--which stripped the previous spirituality of its vitality and left it, intact in all its structures but resoundingly,empty, a prey to that kind of renewing which obliterates altogether. It is characteristic of reactionff to~ over-react and, sometimes, to miss the point, Iri this case the.point was not that there was something wrong with the spirituality of the manuals: it was, hfter all, the Catholic spiritual-ity, the spirituality of the ages; but that there was something dreadfully wrong with those .who professed it. Specifically, they were not half sorry enough for their sins. On the contrary, they often thought themselves very good folk°'indeed. It is not perhaps surprising that their ~lateral~descendants should harbor a similar misapprehension, and that it. should produce, spon~ taneity to 'the contrary, a similar chill of ';righteousness"; a characteristic which proclaims as clearly as any antinomianism; the Spirit's absence. Genuine metanoia is a process. It begins, to be sure, with a haoment: "I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear: but now mine eye seeth thee: Wherefore I abhor.myself, and repent in dust and ashes,''1 I abhor myself~ an abhorrence that generate~ an ongoing and ever deepening reaction. We have called that reaction the Way of Beginners, the Purgative Way. We have identified with precision its stages; its characteristic rhythms of prayer, its temptations, its joys and sorrows, its goals and the interior technology which must be employed if they are to be attained. And we know its term: aJb. xlii, 5:6~ The Incomplete Conversion / 519 a sincere and complete conversion; .and'its consequence: a man sufficiently iiast to bear experimental cbntact with the Spirit of God in illumined faith-- a man who has the justice, the prudence, the temperance and the fortitude to worShip in Spirit and Truth under the influence of infused prayer. ¯ At the present time 'the popular movement recognizes the moment but is unaware'0f the process. Its characteristic exercises--shared and peti-ti0riaty prayer and Scripture reading--are not primary metanoiac agents. It is difficult to see how the movement is to proceed, if it does not assim, ilate a technology" of interior change. Popular spirituality's mistaken guess that the first gift of the Spirit is joy prevents it from cultivating that sorrow, with its concommitant hatred of sin and the filial fear of the Lord which dreads' to lose him, which are, in fact, the Spirit's choicest gifts to the youngest of his Chosen. ~'Its apprehension of a fullness of some kind, when overly encouraged, acts as a bar to its experiencing its own poverty. A dollar may indeed look like a great deal to a man who has known only'plugged nickels all his life but. it remains, nevertheless, a dollar, with a dollar's purchasing power. There seems tO be some danger of the popular renewal's forgetting that the ish seddqdh~ the just man, is ?a member of the an~wim, God's afflicted ones: the poor, the weak, the humble, the meek, the oppressed . the needy, the broken hearted, the crUshed in spirit.''-~ In its search for signs of the Spirit's presence, it is prone to overlook the "Sign of'Jonah" proposed to a previous unbelieving generationhthe death, burial and resurrection of the Lord and i.s, in consequence, diverted from living any coherent program of its own daily dying which is, after all, the Christian's only entrde to the higher life. "There is an apophthegm of Pambos," writes Andre Louf,'a "that is all the more pointed for its brevity: 'Acquire a heart and you can be saved.' 'Acquire a heart': this implies that we do not yet have that spiritual sensi-tivity, that alertness of heart, that can discern and understand the things of the Spirit." The popular, spirituality is of~theopinion that it can. There is perhaps no greater bar to the acquisition oL a heart than the persuasion that one has one. "Better just to smeil a~ flower in the garden or something like that," wrote Thomas M~rton,4 "than to have an unauthentic experience of a much higher value." * A concept of change nearly defines traditional spirituality. Life in Christ is metamorphosis. Its dynamism is the life of God in Trinity which enters the soul 'at the time of its baptism or through the"second and "labo-rious" baptism of penance. Conversion, then, i.s not an arrival :but a de- 2David Holly, The Quest ]or Biblical Living; Cistercian Studies,~ Vol. X, Nos. 3 and 4, p. 235. aAndre Louf, Spiritual Experience, Cistercian Studies, Vol. X, no. 2, p. 128. 4Patrick. Hart, ed., Thomas Merton, Monk (New York: Sheed & Ward; 1974), p. 190. Review. ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/4 parture.: To delay upon the platform, cheering the trains as they come in, is nearly always fatal. The Kingdom of Heaven withers when .it finds~a pos.t-conversion ?'level". and is staticized there. Transformation is'the primary work of the Holy Spirit. ,It is' to this--a definitive delivery~ffrom sin--that" his chief inspirations tend, for he is indeed the very SpiriL.of Christ, he who came to ~.set free the captive, to deliver those Iying in prison, To un. derestimate the extent of,the captivity, the depth of the dungeon, is to miss entirely the pointoof the Mission of the Spirit. . We often hear~it said today that because God loves us he accepts us. That is, of course, the one thing he will never do-,-because he loves us. "When he said 'Be perfect,' he meant it. He meant that we must go in for the full treatment. It is hard; but the sort of compromise we are all hanker-ing after is harder--in fact, it is impossible. It may be hard4or an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to, fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you.cannot go on. in-definitely being just an ordinary, decent,;egg. Wg must be hatched or go bad.''~ , Perhaps we could say that contemporary popular spirituality is in a situation of vulnerability at the moment because it does not dream that~it is an egg. It would seem to be a fatal diversion to cultivate joy if "real spiritual joy is one of the rarest fruits of the., spirit, to be attained only near the summit of the way, after all evil ,habits and thoughts are overcome, all passions conquered, and reconciliation with God is reached?'~ If "the true signs of sincere penitence .are the taming of the beast of anger and absti-nence from all condemnation.of others''~ and if only sincere pen.itence can open the way to any kind of consistent experience of God, then it would seem to be the better .part of enlightenment to .work at those hydra-headed passions. That, at any rate, seems to be what the Spirit.has always bee.n saying to t.he Churches. ; It wbuld not,.perhaps, be necessary to notice the belief clusters and attitudes in popular spirituality which .hinder its. developing genuine in-teriority if it had not attained a very rapid and, indeed, massive growth and were not now showing a decided disposition to impose .itself wherever possible on the rest of theoChurch. Now it is, of course, highly d~e~irable that we should all be more committed Christians, but it may be4hat a good many of us do not desire to be imposed upon, nevertheless. ~Especially by those whose light does not exceed our own. The prospect of spending the rest, of one's spiritual life occupied in "praise"~ and intercessory prayer, punctuated by predictable prophecies will not appeal to everyone . While enthusiastic neo conversi may be able to speak winningly and cohvincingly of their ~newly discovered life in Christ, it is the Church's ex- ;'C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity (New York: Macmillan, 1974), p. 169. ~-~ "Iulia de Beausobre, ed., Russian Letters b] Direction, 1834-1860, beiiig the l~tter~ of Staritz Macarius of Optino.(St. Vladimirs Seminary Press, 1975), p. 106. rlbid., p. 169. The Incomplete ~onversion / 521 perience that fruitful apostolates are the result of a mature Christian life. And it is, besides, the spiritual doctrine of Catholicism that too great an eagerness to teach others is, in beginners, a sign of sp!r!tual pride.i, Although it is typical of evangelical Christianity to send its converts immediately into the field, it has not been the apostolic Church's custom. Following the example of her Lord, who spent thirty years in obscurity be-fore undertaking his public mission, she has preferred that her children nurture the life of grace in humble penance, in mortification and in prayer before sending them "as sheep among wolves." ". when we are fully grown men," writes Tauler in full fidelity to the tradition, "we may come and live in the land of Judah. 'Judah' means 'to confess God.' Then you can teach and admonish in Jerusalem . You can cross over into Galilee which means 'overcoming all things'. ,,8 The facility with which the technique for inducing a Pentecostal type conversion experience can, apparently, be acquired, makes it tempting to the popular movement to adopt evangelical traditions of proselytization. The maturer fruits of conversion oin terms of authentic interior cleansing will not be likely to develop, however, under condition~ 6f forc6d acti~on. Th6 spirit of "results" apparent among the'fastest paced evang'el!qa~l,16rom0i~r~ today should give us pause. For that spirit is not the meek Spirit, the Holy ~pir!t, thee Spirit of repentance which the popular spiritua!ity ~has claimed for its own. "I realize," wrote Andre Louf in a rece6t ar~ic, le, that repentance is not o_nly~ a difficult theme to touch on today, but is also~ g~ven the .complexes of our times--one of the most. difficult to pin down and live authentically. And yet it remains essential. In general, repentance is:'re-fused today. We live at the turning point between th~ obsessive neurosis (if ~ - I may call it that) characterizing the pe~:iod immediately before our own, and °~ the adolescent effervescence add aggressivity of a period that is now freeing ~ itself;of~ that neurosis. ProoL~that he has sinned can only create unbearable ~, ~anguish in one ~ho is already eate.~ up with anguish. Sin was intolerable for the l~eriod immediately before our own, and people tried to free them-selves from it by what the Fathers used to call dikaioma, the pretension to ° justice. Sin-is unbearable, so one claims to be just by an outward observance of law, or rather, of a certain n~n~ber of r~gulations; in r~hlity one is fleeing from me~tanoia. Today instead we hav~ an adolesc,eni effervescer~ce and aggreg- '~sivi~y which is~just as~ neurotic and ~'for which sin is just as uhbea'rable; the solution now, however, is to say there is no such thingP " ~ '" -~or to bury it under the cliches Of "love" and "joy" and "community" and "perice." ~' " The question for the next few years or s6, so far as the popular spirithal-itY goes, is whether ~it ~ill be able radically, to assimilate to its present spirit the basic spirituality of the Church and its metan~iac techniques. Or will the conversion remain incomplete? ¯ - SJohn Tauler, O.P., Spiritual Con]erences (St. Louis: B. Herder, 1961), p. 38. aAndre Louf, Spiritual Experience, Cistercian Studies, Vol. X, no. 2, p. 132. Ministry, Grace and the Process of Humanization Rev. Stephen J. Duffy Father Duffy is Associate ProfessOr and Chairmarl of the Department of Religious Stud.ies; L6yolaUr~iversity; New Orleans, LA 70118. My" subject ~is ttie very topical "theology of liberation.''a Before we plunge into the subject, however, there are some contextual questions that demand an answer. Why should w~ be concerned with grounding Christian pastoral or social ministry in theology at all? In this connection, is talk about a theology of liberation just a pep-talk or a sales pitch to send enthusiasm soaring? Are institutes and courses on pastoral ministry some kind bf inter-lude before we all get back to our real work? Do they amount to little more than abstract and theoretical discussions designed to titillate, the more intellectually inclined? My strong conviction is that a theology of liberation and discussions of pastoral ministry in that context should be far more than any of these. ZGustavo Guti6rrez, A Theology o] Liberation (Maryknoll: Orbis B~oks, 1973)." See also his "Notes for a Theology of Liberation," Theological Studies 31 (1970), pp. 243-261. Guti6rrez is prob~b~ly the most widely read and mo~t influential single theologian of liberation. For a good overview accompanied by a rather, complete bibliography, see Phillip Berryman, "Latin American Liberation Theology," Theolog-ical Studies 34 i(1973,), pp. 357-395. A variety of liberation theologies has been flourishing outside the Latin American situation. Cf. e.g., James H. Cone, A Black Theology o! Liberation (Philadlephia: J. B. Lippincott, 1970); R. Lauren.tin, Libera-tion, Development and Sa/v~ttion (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1972); J. B. Metz, Theology o] the World" (New York: Seabury Press, 1973); R. Reuther, Liberation Theology (New York: Paulist Press, 1972);~F. Herzog, Liberation Theology (New ¯ York: Seabury Press, 1972). 522 Ministry, Grace and Humanization / 5~23 '~ I am convinced first of all that there is a deep theological meaning to pastoral ministry. One of the most important contributions of Vatican II's Constitution on the Church is' the notion of Church as mystery. According to Vatican II, the. Church is first and foremost a mystery, a "kind of. sign of intimate union with God," and of the unity of all mankind." The Church is ,an outward sign and instrument, at once concealing and dis-closing the invisible action of God in the world. But if the Church is a mystery, then all its activity in the world is mysterious too, sharing in the very mystery of God. And if0'the Church is not solely the hierarchy or a voice speaking infallibly, or some vague entity.floating serenely above the chaos of this world, but is rather a community of persons, then our ac-tivities, too, share in the mysterious character of the,Church's action. As individual Christians, and as persons engaged in a work more or less clearly identified in some way as the Church's, there is no esCaping the fact ,that our activities will not be merely social or economic or educational or political .or psychological, but will bear a dimension that is Christian, and therefore mysterious. In the second place i believe'it is highly important for us to understand theologically this Christian dimension of our work, to grasp something in our own lives of this mysterious sign simultaneously revealing and con-cealing the. mystery of God. It is crucialfor us to understand what w~ are doing, for it is difficult to do a task well or enthusiastically without under-standing its purpose and meaning. Crucial, I say, because the meaning of Christian ministry cannot be exhausted by political~ sociological, economic, educational, or psychological interpretations. As sharers of the Chris'tian vision we affirm, in fact, that all such human acti'~ities, abstracted from their Christian dimension, would be ultimately meaningless. Thirdly, as students of theology, or :at least as persons with something of a professional interest in the Work of the Church, we must learn to think in theological terms about our ministry in the world. One of the emphases of liberation theology is that if theology has any meaning at all, it .must be applicable to real-life~ situations. Theoria .and praxis must be wed. I think that here our Christian education is :often lacking. We go through hours of religious instruction, even theology, without a hint that sometiow this must have practical implications. Few attempts are made to show the student how to relate what he has learned in °the classroom with what he is meeting in the s~reets. When Thomas Aquinas faced the prob-lem, at the very beginning of his Summa~ whether theology is a practical or a speculative science; he answered that it is both. From our~practice think we would have to deduce that we consider it to be purely speculative. The popular image of the priest closing his theology books on ordination, never to reopen ttirm again, is, unfortunately, close to the truth. Now I do not in the least want to downgrade theoretical or specuiative theology. I do not want it thrown out in favor of pastoral or even biblical Review ]or Religious, Volume 35; 1976/4 theology, I. feel it should.be even more emphasized, in the sense thaf each one should be trained, not merely to accept passively the theology he. or she is taught, .but rather to be able to reflect actively, creatively, theologi-cally, not only about classroom matter, but about the whole spectrura o1~ Christian :life in the world. If that is not done the pastoral gimmicks taught today will be obsolete in ten years, Critical theological reflection, by rel-ativi

Issue 30.2 of the Review for Religious, 1971. ; EDITOR R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITOR Everett A. Diederich, S.J. ASSISTANT EDITOR John L. Treloar, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Correspondence with the editor, the associate editors, and the assistant editor, as well as books for review, should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; 6i~ Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 631o3. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's Church; 321 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania tgxo6. + + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited with ecclesiastical approval by faculty members of the School of Divinity of Saint Louis University, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Building ; 539 North Grand Boulevard ; Saint Louis, Missouri 63103. Owned by the Missouri Province Edu-cational Institute. Published bimonthly and copyright (~) 1971. by REvmw Fog RELIO~OUS. 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 Yon RELtOtOUS in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent REvmw yon RELIOIOU!L Change of address requests should include former address. - Renewals and new subscriptions should be sent to REvmw FOR RELIOIOUS; P. O. Box I 110; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Manuscripts, editorial correspondence, and books for re-view should be sent to REvIEw FOR 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. MARCH 1971 VOLUME 30 NUMBER 2 BROTHER THOMAS MORE, C.F.X. Religious: Partners for Justice and Peace Within the past few years, Pope Paul VI has established January 1 as a World Day of Peace. For 1971 he has selected the theme: "Every man is my brother." To enlist the support of religious institutes, the Holy See recently sent a document to" all superiors general stating that the World Day of Peace should transcend the limits of a simple celebration and really bring to the world the message of Christ's love. This Day of Peace is an invitation for an examination of conscience; it is an exhortation not to judge or condemn others, but to find out how much we ourselves as individuals and as mem-bers of society are accomplices of evil in this world; it is a means of making us more aware that we are and ought to be the guardians of our brothers. As religious by the very nature of their profession are orientated towards their fellow men, they have special motives for making this examination of conscience. Pious practices are not sufficient to make us good Christians. Christ Himself told us that we shall be judged by our attitudes and acts towards our fellow men. Nor is it suffi-cient that we be on good terms with our fellow religious. In this age, with the mass media keeping us informed about what is going on throughout the world, we cannot say to the Lord: "Where did we see you hungry, or naked, or" in prision. ?" The theme for 1971 looks beyond the present state of hostility in the world to the root of war--a failure to understand the yearning for the recognition of basic human rights by men in all parts of the world to escape from hunger, misery, disease, discrimination, and igno-rance. As long as this festering condition exists in any part of the world, there will always be the threat of war, violence,- and unrest. Perhaps nowhere else have the hopes of this part of mankind been better expressed than in Pope Paul's own Brother Thomas More, C.F.X., is su-perior general of the Xaverian Broth-ers; Via Antonio Bosio0 5; 00161 Rome, Italy. VOLUME 30, 1971 161 ÷ ÷ ÷ T. More~ C.F.X. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS blueprint for peace, Populorum progressio: "Freedom from misery, ~he greater assuranceof finding subsistence, health and fixed employment; an increased share of re-sponsibility without oppression of any kind and in se-curity from situations that do violence to their dignity as men; better education--in brief, to seek to do more, know more and have more; that is what men aspire to now when a greater number of them are condemned to live in conditions that make their lawful desire illusory." It is these men and women in particular whom'the Holy Father wants us to see in the light of Christian charity as our brothers. For only when we do believe them to be our brothers can we be deeply concerned about their struggle to obtain their freedom. This struggle for freedom is given greater emphasis if it is looked at within the framework of three contem-porary issues that are on the front stage of our history. The first is that 20% of the people living in the Atlan-tic world command about 75 to 80% of the world's in-come, investment, and trade. This statement becomes more than a matter of statistics when we realize that the society within this 20% contains a large number of professed followers of Christ who are the inheritors of a Christian tradition. But within this society, "Christianity is invoked in order to lead a sort of crusade against communism. Christianity is invoked in order to combat the wave of hatred, deeprooted re-sentment and terror which is rising everywhere. The 20% who let 80% stagnate in a situation which is often sub-human-- what right have they to allege that communism crushes the human spirit? The 20% who are keeping 80% in a situation which is often sub-human--are they or are they not responsible for the violence and hatred which are beginning to break out all over the world?" x If these words seem to ring with the exaggerated rheto-ric of a prophet, they do come from the heart of a bishop in an underdeveloped section of Brazil to awaken us from complacency. The second contemporary issue is the influence of the younger generation in movements for social justice and peace. It is almost universally agreed that this young generation has a feeling of oneness in human develop-ment and is alive to the increasingly international char-acter of human events.~ Also among the young is a new 1 Helder Camara, "Development Projects and Concern for Struc-tural Changes," IDOC, North American edition, May 23 1970, p. 20. 2John Tracy Ellis notes that in the transformation of the Catholic Church's leadership in the United States from a passive to an active adherence to the social papal encyclicals of John XXIII and Paul VI, the Church had the advantage of the "radically different ap-proach to war and peace" of students in the Catholic colleges, uni-versities, and seminaries, "the vast majority of whom were much radicalism which questiOnS strongly, often violently, the priorities and standards inside the economy and struc-tures of the Atlantic world. "If, say the young, this is the ultimate fine flower of our commercial industrial civiliza-tion, it might be better to blow it up and start again." a The third current issue is the growing awarenegs that we live in a village world, that we belong to a world community. We are all becoming alive to the increasingly inter-national character of human events and associations. There has been a great stir~:ing of conscience on the sub-ject of world poverty in the midst of plenty, on the ques-tion of world peace, and in the matter of racial discrimi-nation, wherever it may be practiced. This stirring of conscience and the awareness of the repercussion of global events have helped to break down parochial and national barriers. People everywhere are catching the vision that sees any deprivation of human rights as a universal crisis that profoundly disturbs the world community. Within this contemporary framework of an unbalanced world economy, the influence of the young generation in social justice and peace movements, and the search for world community, the Holy Father's theme for 1971 has a particularly strong appeal for religious. There is abundant evidence that religious in the United States are aware of these three contemporary issues and of the major social ills of our times. The fol-lowing suggestions and reflections are made as contribu-tion to this growing involvement of religious in arousing the People of God to promote development, justice, and peace in a world where "Every man is my brother." Peace As professed disciples of Christ, we cannot limit our horizon to the internal concerns of our community life. As members of a religious institute, we cannot be satisfied with the missionary efforts of a few of our members in developing countries. Perhaps there was a time when people could feel at ease when they had prayed for peace. In our days, we have an inescapable responsibility not only to pray but also to do something for peace in the world. Peace is an involved and sometimes painful question. It touches us on the emotional level because of our racial, national, religious, social, or educational background, or more sensitive to the papal teaching on peace than their parents and grandparents had been" (American Catholics and Peake [Washing-ton: Division of World Justice and Peace, USCC, 1970], p. 14). a Barbara Ward, The Angry Seventies (Rome: Pontifical Commis-sion of Justice and Peace, 1970), p. 44. + + + Justice and Peace VOLUME 30, 1971 163 ÷ ÷ T. More, C.F.X. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 164 because of other more or less conscious motivations. For the.objective education of ourselves, our communities and those whom we serve in Our apostolates, we have to make a continuous effort to overcome these all too human feelings. We must likewise try to avoid all blind spots of emotional prejudice which prevent us from seeing the real issues. One of the first things to be done .is to seek informa-tion in order to build up a solid basis for judgment. To refuse, either emotionally or through sheer indifference, to become informed is certainly one of those sins of omission which the renewed liturgy has most appropri-ately called again to our attention. The constitution Gaudium et spes (n. 82) gave us a lofty ideal when it stated that "it is our duty to prepare, by all possible efforts, the time when all war can be com-pletely outlawed by international consent." Too often we are not aware of the moral influence which we, as individuals or as a group, can exercise on the political level. War is one'of the major moral concerns of our day --what is our attitude toward war in general? Do we know and appreciate the theoretical and practical impli-cations of moral theories on war and on the use of vio-lence? Does the traditional "just war" theory still hold in our times when the powers of destruction are apocalyptic? Gaudium et spes continues: "Those who are dedicated to the work of education, particularly of the young . should regard as their most weighty task the effort to form the minds of all to the acceptance of a new spirit of peace. Every one of us should have a change of heart." Those religious engaged in the apostolate of education have the opportunity and the duty to give practical direction in this area. In particular cases there should be discussions with students and parents on the implications of "conscientious objection," passive civil resistance, and other controversial attitudes towards war, social injustice, and the like. Moreover, as citizens we have our political rights and duties. On some occasions this may require forthright speech and action, after mature consideration, even against decisions made by the highest authorities. We all respect the attitude of a man like Dietrich Bonhoeffer and of others under the Nazi regime, or of some modern Soviet authors, or of. a man like Hekler Camara. Great and at times heroic courage is needed by such people to stick to their most profound convictions and to suffer for them. In a democratic society similar courage can sometimes be needed. One can appreciate, for instance, the moral fortitude of the American Jesuit provincials who, in a letter to all United States senators, on May 21, 1970, expressed their deep concern about the recent de-velopments in the Vietnam war. Development and Justice We must show every man the esteem, the respect, and love which he deserves as a member of the human family and as a being created by God and the object of His love. We must concern ourselves with the full human develop-ment of the world, to take a global view of mankind and of the human race, to see ourselves as members of a planetary village, where "Every man is my brother." Religious cannot be less sensitive than the younger generation to the worldwide and national obstacles to social justice; nor can they fail to see in these committed young people their fellow brothers and sisters who may be showing religious that evangelical poverty can be the purest expression of Christian liberality. In every religious institute there have been community and chapter debates on evangelical poverty. Some think it has lost its meaning or that it has no place in contem-porary society. But before reaching such conclusions, the individual religious or the community involved should remove from the scene all those obvious unnecessary forms of middle-class comfort upon which so many of them may depend. Perhaps a few bold steps in experi-encing how poor people live might also be considered. Communities and provinces could include special de-velopmen~ projects in their budgets.4 It may then hap-pen that religious will discover alternate options to settling down to a comfortable middle-class existence. This process of "settling down," with its subsequent bourgeois acceptance of a comfortable and secure living, is a corporate sin which religious can fall victim to against the spirit of poverty. And this lack of the spirit of evangelical poverty can prevent religious from being sensitive to the social ills of our society. The greater awareness in our times of belonging to a world community parallels the movement within the re-ligious life for a greater understanding of gommunity. If fuller participation in community is evangelical, if it is the forum 'in which the hope of the Resurrection and the appreciation of the present realities are held in ten-sion, then it will predispose religious to take a global vision of mankind and of the human race. This vision ought certainly to be one of the first fruits of the new religious community. *See Louis G. Miller, C.Ss.R., "The Social Responsibility of Re-ligious," REWEW fOR REI.~CIOUS, v. 29 (1970), pp. 658-61, for a practical suggestion for practicing social consciousness on the prov-ince level by investing funds to alleviate the pressing social crisis in our times. 4- 4- Justice and Peace VOLUME 30, 1971 165 ÷ T. More, .F.X. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 166 Provincial and general chapters need to discuss those issues which profoundly affect the world community and national communities, with the hope that as they face their own internal problems, they will also turn toward those which lie at the heart of our contemporary society. Some of these issues are: racism, minority groups and. human rights, nationalism, .conscientious objection, the so-called theory of "just war," and disarmament in our era of nuclear weapons and missiles. Religious should continue to serve the Third World through their missionary work. However, this commit-ment ought to be incorporated into the new thinking on evangelization-development now taking place in many secular and religious assemblies. As Father Philip Land, s.J., of the Pontifical Commission of Justice and Peace pointed out recently to the superiors genera.1 in Rome, one of the chief contributions religious can make is to un-derstand the development debate, increase their com-mitment to the UN's Second Development Decade, and integrate the activity of their congregation into this global project. As an example of the need to understand the devel-opment debate, Father Land pointed out that real challenges confront religious as regards developing and developed countries in the area of education. With re-gard to the former, it is widely argued that Christian schools produce an education that simply ties their stu-dents to the existing power structures; with regard to the latter, it is questioned whether our schools produce an education conducive to the structural changes the poor nations rightly demand. The final suggestion is that made by Monsignor Joseph Gremillion, Secretary of the Pontifical Commis-sion of Justice and Peace, to a recent assembly of su-periors general: "The initiatives of religious are abso-lutely vital everywhere. Even though conferences of bishops might take certain responsibilities, it is essential that 'free movements' and individual leadership be ex-ercised-- a~d often this is provided by religious, men and women, as chaplains, inspirers, educators, anima-tors." "Every man is my brother": In choosing this theme, the Holy Father's aim is to help people to become aware of the unity of the human family, and thereby to favor a deeper and more sincere solidarity between men by removing from their manner of acting every form of discrimination based on distinction of race, color, cul-ture, ethnic origin, sex, social class, or religion. Are we prepared to play our part for a better, a more human, a more Christian world? JEAN LECLERCQ, O.S.B. Culture and the Spiritual Life I. THE MEDIEVAL MONASTIC TRADITION Learning and the culture which results from it refine a personality by helping it to acquire certain values of humanity which make up the fund of the commonwealth of human nature. In the Middle Ages these were never isolated from a man's religious living: they became part and parcel of his initiation to Holy Scripture, spiritual reading, meditation, prayer; they were determining fac-tors in a man's search for God, a search which, at all times, implies an ascesis not only for the inquiring mind, the intelligence, but for every one of man's faculties. These human values are not independent; they are an-cillary to the more noble values of a sacred humanity, that is, of a human nature and condition penetrated with the grace of Jesus Christ, transformed by the Holy Spirit, and consecrated, set apart for the Father in the Church. For the men of the Middle Ages who sought after God, Christian humanism meant something more than mere assimilation of culture; it implied the growth and self realisation of the person in the totality of his values: the raw material of human nature was never separated from the refining effect of Christian living. Certainly, culture and language had an important part to play in this process of fructification; but they did not, of themselves, bring it about. They favored the assimi-lation of profane literature and allowed the scholar to discern those experiences which were susceptible of being transformed and thus raised to the level of his own lived Christian reality, the level at which he became and real-ized himself by union with God. Thus in order to under-stand the humanism of these Medieval monks we must try to discover the specifically Christian experience lying behind the terms of a language inherited from masters of pagan antiquity. We have, as it were, to guess the per-sonal experience, the desire for God experienced by each + + + Jean Leclercq, O.S.B., is a monk of Clervaux Ab-bey in Luxem-bourg, Europe. VOLUME 30, 1971 16'/ lean Leclercq REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 168 writer who loved learning; we must endeavor to unveil in some way the Medieval monastic writer's intimate being in presence of God. Conflicts and Solutions But once we start trying to do this, we perceive the presence of two conflicting parties. According to the degree of sensitivity of a given Medieval period, this conflict situation is experienced more or less keenly, more or less clearly, and expressed more or less frequently in the texts. But the two parties of the conflict are con-stantly in presence and are mutually conditioning. The first conflictual element is the relationship to be established between the spiritual life and the profane realities which one met with when learning Latin; the problem with which students had to grapple was how to remain Christian and become even more so by contact with pagan values expressed in ancient literature. The second element is situated in the sphere of impact be-tween man's fallen state and the nobleness of human nature: man has personal experience of concupiscence waging within him; his experience tells him that he is capable of sinning, and that he actually does sin; but he knows too that he is endowed with a real "capacity" for God--the Medieval man firmly believes that he is capable of throwing open his being to the divine pres-ence, and even that God does already dwell within him. Divided as he is, how can man recover his unity? Let it be noticed that the experience of this conflict situation was not the monopoly of monks: it is inherent to our human condition. The solution to this problem lies, now as then, in the encounter of God and man in Jesus Christ, and in the union between man and his Savior. Yet if we judge by the number of witnesses and their spiritual density, it seems that it was more keenly experienced, in a more privileged manner as it were, in monastic circles. Elsewhere, pastoral or temporal activi-ties distracted the attention. But in the cloisters, there was nothing to alleviate the inner combat; the monk constantly kept the whole of his existence focused on a search for the presence of God. His method was prayer. Nothing hollows a man out as much as the activity of prayer; nothing more than prayer makes him fathom the depths of his own abyss; in prayer man comes up against his own void, he experiences the need he has of God. We see, then, that monks were in the ideal conditions for suffering this conflict more keenly than their fellowmen. They expressed it more frequently than others outside the cloister, but it has always been the common lot of humanity. And humanism is nothing else than th'is conjunction of a given experience and a given culture in a single person. The higher this experience and this culture are, the more the person develops his human capacities. It is not a ques-tion here of mere literary varnish, but of a profound en-richment on the level of the intimate depths where a man meets his God. The humanism of the Medieval monks supposes this alliance of culture and the spiritual life, with all that this implies in ascesis and prayer. The mon-astery offered the means for acquiring culture, and the religious experience which the inmates underwent pro-vided an objective for this culture; the monastery was the workshop, so to say, where man, by the instrumen-tality of culture, attained, over and beyond culture itself, to union with God. The Drama of Christian Humanism Having once grasped the fact of the conflict which the Christian humanist, within and without the cloister, had to overcome, it will be suspected that harmony was not established without a certain drama. And Medieval mo-nastic texts confirm our suspicions. Always, we find the conjunction of the two inalienable elements of Christian experience provoked by honest and cultured reading of Holy Scripture. These two elements are ~emptation and hope: the latter is always predominant and has the last word. Why? Because, as one Medieval writer reminds us: Stat Iesus et dicit.--Jesus is there and He speaks to us. That is just what humanism is: an experience of Jesus Christ present in man. In order to taste, to savor, ~the reality behind words we must not only read but also live. You notice that reading, learning is a primary condition of any religious experience and the result is always inner peace. Between the beginning, the abc, and the end lies a long struggle to be waged between the different values, a struggle between contrary tendencies. Many acts of this drama are painful, but it always ends in light and peace. This supreme and perfect realization of-man, of hu-manism, is none other than the perfect accomplishment of the Incarnation: there is no more lofty humanism than that which leads to perfect union of man with God. In reading some Medieval authors one is tempted to say that for them there is a sort of humanism in God shown by divine care for man which goes so far as to assume humanity into the divinity. The kernel of such a theol-ogy is the justification of the humano-divine situation, the justification of the passion and death of Christ in function of man's reconciliation with God. And what strikes us in Medieval works structured round such theol-ogy is that often, though major stress is laid on God's honor and glory, the primacy of man and his salvation in the divine economy is dominant. For certain Medieval + ÷ + Culture VOLUME 30, 1971 ]69 ÷ ÷ ~ean Leclercq REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS theologians it is essential to God's honor and glory that mankind whom he has destined for eternal happiness should be saved. Conclusion Throughout the Middle Ages, the problem in mon-asteries and other Christian seats of learning was not to say "yes" or "no" to culture, but to discern the correct use to be made of it. The monks took the risk of ac-quiring culture, they saw the danger; they overcame the risk in the strength of humility and ascesis: their courage led them to love. Let us, in a sort of review of the conflict situation, see how monks were victorious in suffering and joy. The texts left by Medieval monks prove that it was no imaginary struggle; they help us to grasp the concrete, real, even existential nature of the conflict in the student --it was a struggle for purity of heart and purity of body. It was a real personal problem that the student had to solve; nothing could be further removed than this from a merely speculative, a so-called objective attitude with regard to profane realities. The problem was real and acute. The solution could only be found in Jesus Christ in whom one of the divine Persons, belonging to another world, lived in a man of our own world. The Last Supper and the Resurrection are absolute and undeniable reminders that Christ's pres-ence in this world appropriates even the physical ele-ments of man. And the Medieval person is always per-ceived in a triple relationship to a second self--a superego (t3ber-Ich), a self-surpassing self, if we may so say--to God and His kingdom, and to man's place in this king-dom. Now the ego surrenders itself to a superior power, not, as might be thought, by emptying self of sell but in liberating the potentials for self-surpassing which it con-tains. The aim is not to seek one's own advantage-~one's own pleasure or glory--but to renew the experience of those whom the Bible tells us encountered God, before being in a position to manifest Him. The glory of a creature is to serve the Creator, to refer to Him; and this man is able to do because God has endowed him with reason. Man is not centered on himself but on God, and the Medieval monk cannot construct a doctrine of man on any other foundation than his relationship to God. The monk exists as an individual, and he knows it, he experiences the truth of this reality in moments of temp-tation and on every occasion where he becomes conscious of himself; yet he knows too that he is not autonomous in the sense that he could have any worth independently of God; the monk's self-realization, the development of his personality as such could never be his sole objective nor sut:fice to make him totally happy. There thus coexist in him at all times, and sometimes in a manner which we find baffling, on thb one hand that which is specific to his human nature--his failings, but also his capacity for reasoning, for critical reflection-- and on the other hand faith in a mystery which he cannot grasp, and even belief in the marvelous. The Medieval religious man knows that he carries within himself both greatness and pettiness; heis a sinner, but God comes to meet him, and he in turn goes towards God. The en-counter is perfected in Christ who, as God, created man in the cosmos, and as man situated Himself in this same cosmos. The encounter between God and His sinful crea-ture is also accomplished in the man who lives united to Christ. The Christian man is already, in the kingdom of Christ, a homo caelestis--but not entirely so. Para-doxically, carnal man has still to become the heavenly man which he already is. This transformation, this meta-noia, can only be accomplished within him by the daily fight, by a constant and daily conversion to the Lord. The perfect man, he who is already totally re-formed, even transformed, transfigured, is none other than the saint: from this point of view, it is easy to understand why hagiography has such an important place in Me-dieval monastic historiography. Lastly, just as he is attracted by heaven--which he likes to represent as being open, on the occasion of theophanies for example--the humanist in the monastic Middle Ages is on friendly terms with everything created: the cosmos and animals which he tends to idealize. There is a tension within him, between his own self and the world in its two aspects, earthly and yet already sanctified, and in this sense, heavenly. The solution to all these at-tractions, tendencies, and tensions lies in the mystery of the cross which is figured in medieval representations as a symbol of struggle and victory: in hoc signo. Sometimes the cross is framed by a low doorway, the narrow gate which at once separates and unites, and by which one has to pass freely of one's own will by liberating self, by shaking off something of self --- this is the narrow gateway beyond which we can find self again, and with self every-thing else once sacrificed but now bathed in light. II. A CONTEMPORARY MODEL But now, in order to step beyond Medieval history, let us see how such an ideal can be lived in our own desac-ralized and profane twentieth century. There are many examples of men ~ind women who ally culture with the spiritual life sometimes attaining to high sanctity on the university campus--always under the sign of the cross ÷ ÷ ÷ Culture VOLUME 30, 1971 of Christ. The example we choose to quote here is none other than Edith Stein: the scholar and the saint, as she has been called. Witnesses are never more eloquent than in the testimony of their lives, often translated, in the case of men and women of learning, into writing. We can do no better than let Edith Stein speak for herself in a few carefully selected texts. As we read through her works we notice that there is one major generating principle of energy--a unified ex-istence in which the many activities are brought together as a single unit tending to the one thing necessary to the Christian humanist: the knowledge of Christ crucified and his all-pervading dynamic presence in professional and private life. Edith Stein had grasped this principle. After having spent Holy Week of 1928 at the Benedictine Abbey of Beuron, she wrote: Passiontide and Easter are not meant to express simply a transitory festive mood quickly submerged in the daily hum-drum; no, they are the divine power living in us, which we take with us into our professional life so that it may be leavened by it. This oneness, this unity between apparently contradic-tory, even paradoxical elements of an existence seems to be a characteristic of Edith Stein--the passion and the cross are a single divine power, the fulcrum by which she raised the deadweight of daily humdrum existence. There was a constant dialectic tension within her, a continuous striving to reconcile on a higher level--that of union with God--the realities of life, at home, in school, or on the campus. It is evident that this harmonious unity was not at-tained without a persevering ascesis in order to face squarely and solve peacefully the dilemmas roused by the co-existence of the love of learning and an ardent desire for God. In the present context we cannot develop the matter as fully as we should like; we shall merely illus-trate how Edith Stein harmonized four very important dialectic tensions. + + + Jean Leclereq REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 172 i. Harmony between the Spiritual and the Intellec-tual Life In February 1928 she wrote: Of course religion is not just something for a quiet corner and a few hours of leisure; it must be the root and ground of all life, and this not only for a few chosen ones, but for every true Christian. (of whom, indeed, there is always only a small number). It was through St. Thomas that I first came to realize that it is possible to regard scholarly .work as a service of God. Immediately before, and a long ome after my conversion, I thought living a religious life meant to abandon all earthly things and to live only in the thought of the heavenly realities. Gradually I have learned to understand that in this world something else is demanded of us, and that even in the con-templative life the connexion with this world must not be cut off. Only then did I make up my mind to take up scholarly work again. I even think that the more deeply a soul is drawn into God, the more it must also go out of itself in this sense, that is to say into the world, in order to carry the divine life into it. This text shows that Christian humanism is not the pri-vate property of scholars, it is incumbent on every Chris-tian. We also notice that learning, scholarly work, is a service of God. In other letters Edith Stein states the con-ditions for maintaining the balance of power between the spiritual and the intellectual. The keyword is sim-plicity. The scholar has to be simply content with the conditions of life; he has not to be anxious about many and superfluous things. We might almost say that he has to take life as it comes. This is detachment, another con-dition which Edith Stein considered essential for the truly Christian humanist--detachment from earthly riches, but also detachment from spiritual goods: she teaches that we must not be anxious about times for praying---each one must pray according to the possibilities of his professional commitments. Nevertheless a portion of the day should be set apart for God. Edith Stein writes: The chief thing is first to have a quiet corner where one can converse with God as if nothing else existed, and this every day. The early morning seems to me the hest time for this, before the daily work begins. Further, I think, this is where one re-ceives one's mission, preferably for each day, without choosing anything oneself. Lastly, one should regard oneself entirely as an instrument, especially those powers with which one has to work, for example in our case one's reason--I mean as an in-strument which we do not use ~urselves, but God in us. 2. Harmony between the Intellectual Li[e 'and'Every-day Life The scholar must not live shut up in his study from morning to night. The humanist, the Christian scholar, is a person closely linked with human values in and around him; he should have contacts with the world of his fellow men if his learning is to be really a service of God. Christian Iearning, like prayer from which it should never be separated, is a diacony. Here again, Edith Stein has left principles of unifying action, theory which was practiced in her own existence as a scholar, within and without the cloister. She was well aware of the danger of intellectual aloofness as she shows by this extract from an article published in 1931: All of us who live in the universities absorb a little of the "type ot~ the intellectual". But we must be quite clear that this attitude separates us from the crowds. Outside people bat-tle with the daily needs of life in their manifold forms. As soon as we go out they confront us . We are placed among people ÷ ÷ ÷ Culture 173 whom we are meant to help in their needs. They ought not to think of us as strange beings living in an inaccessible ivory tower. We must be able to think, feel, and speak like them, if they are expected to have confidence in us . The intellectual can find the way to the people--and without finding it he can-not guide them---only if, in a certain sense, he frees himself" from the intellect. Here again we notice the principles of Christian soli-darity, humanity, service, and detachment: freedom from self for others. ÷ ÷ ÷ lean Leclercq REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 174 3. Harmony between Traditional Culture and Con-temporary Mentality This third dilemma is by no means the least which the modern scholar has to face.For Edith Stein, the patron of existentialism, as she has been called, it meant balance between the past and the present. The favored disciple of Husserl, translator of Aquinas, had to find a way of living progress; she had to realize the Bergsonian principle of progress: the past which advances and amplifies in the present as it'becomes the future. Her well-defined meth-odological principles (betraying an ascetically trained mind) enhanced and structured her art as a teacher and show how she combined the past and the present: Wherever scholastic arguments are our point of departure, we shall first present them in scholastic terminology. But in order to ascertain that we have grasped the actual sense of the matter, and are not just playing about with words, we shall seek to find our own terms, in which to render the pas-sages in question. While doing this we want to think together with the old masters in a vital manner; but not only with the old masters, but also with those who have resumed the ques-tion in their own way in our time . This is the necessary way especially for the present author, whose philosophical home is the school of Edmund Husserl, and whose native tongue, as far as philosophy is concerned, is the language of the phenomenologists. These only too few texts give us a glimpse of the mind and thought of Edith Stein. They hint at the way in which she strove to attain union with God through books and without alienating herself from her fellowmen. Any who is familiar with the work and life of Edith Stein knows that the application of these principles was not always easy: Edith Stein willed her way to holiness as a scholar; hers was no haphazard chance: she collaborated with divine grace with all the ardor of her semitic heart. EXISTENTIAL EXPERIENCE Nothing. happens by chance. Edith Stein contests the formula of Heidegger thrown into existence. In dense and direct sentences she attacks the weak spot of his ex-istentialist philosophy, she attacks the Geworfenheit: With this is expressed above all that man finds himself in existence, without knowing how he has come there . But with this the question of the "whence" has not been abolished. How-ever violently one may try to silence it or to forbid it as sense-less, it always rises again irresistibly from the peculiarity of hu-man being demanding a Being that is both the foundation of the former and its own foundation, needing no other, demand-ing the One who throws that which is "thrown." And with this the "being thrown" is revealed as creatureliness. In this text Edith Stein reveals herself to be truly a humanist: she has a keen and penetrating vision of the human situation. She writes with even greater acuity: The nothingness and transitoriness of its own being becomes clear to the Ego, if it takes possession of its own being by thought . It also touches it. through fear (Angst), which accompanies unredeemed man through life in many disguises ¯. but in the last resort as fear of his own non-being . How-ever, fear is not normally the dominant sensation (Lebensge- [iihl). This it becomes in cases which we describe as pathologi-cal; but normally we walk in great security as if our being was a certain possession . The reflecting analysis of our being by thought shows how little cause for such security there is in itself., the undeniable fact that my being is transitory., and exposed to the possibility of non-being is matched by the other, equally undeniable fact that, notwithstanding this transitoriness, I am and am kept in being from one moment to the other, and embrace a lasting Being in my transitory be-ing. I know myself held, and in this I have peace and se-curity- not the self-assured security of a man who stands in his own strength on firm ground, but the sweet and blissful se-curity of the child which is carried by a strong arm-~considered objectively, a no less reasonable security . Hence in my being I meet another, which is not mine, but is support and ground of my unsupported and groundless being. The dispositions of the unified soul of Edith Stein are revealed in the text we have just read where we notice the words "great security," "peace and security," "sweet and blissful security." The reason for this happy state does not lie in the Ego, but in the lasting Being whom we encounter when we enter deeply into ourselves. It is this encounter in man of God and man which should be the objective of every Christian scholar today, as in the Middle Ages. How can we come to recognize the supreme Being, He who is, in our own finite being? By reasoning or by faith: the latter was the way of the medieval monks; it was the way, too, of Edith Stein: The security of being, which I sense in my transitory being, points to an immediate anchoring in the last support and ground of my being . This is, indeed, only a very dark sensing, which one can hardly call knowledge . This dark sensing gives us the Incomprehensible One as the inescapably near One, in whom we "live and move and have our being," yet as the Incomprehensible One. Syllogistic thinking formu-lates exact notions, yet even they are incapable of apprehend-ing Him who cannot be apprehended; they rather place Him at ÷ ÷ ÷ Culture VOLUME 30, 1971 a distance, as happens with everything notional. The way of faith gives us more than the way of philosophical knowledge: it gives us the God of personal nearness, the loving and merci-ful One, and a certainty such as no natural knowledge can give. Yet even the way of faith is a dark way. This text shows how very close she was to her own age; she proves here that she allied the heritage of ancient masters with the modern mentality, more intuitive than that of Ancient Greece: the intelligence of Edith Stein was semitic, Biblical and it is this Biblical essence which makes her to be kith and kin with Medieval monastic humanists and scholars. THE SCHOLARLY NUN But there is more than a certain way of apprehending God which links Edith Stein to the monastic thinkers of the Middle Ages. Like them she renounced the secular seats of learning to give herself to God as a nun in a Carmelite convent. At first she gave herself entirely to the humble duties of a beginner in the monastic life; but later on, at the request of her superiors, she began to write and study again. One of her two works concerning mysticism has a very telling title: Kreuzeswissenschaft (Science of the Cross). It was written for the fourth centenary of the birth of St. John of the Cross, and in it we discern the insuffi-ciency of pure philosophical thinking for tackling prob-lems of mystical theology. There, too, we recognize Edith Stein--now Sister Benedicta of the Cross--the philoso-pher whose thought was always structured and subtended by rigorous methodological principles indicative of a dis-ciplined mind. A passage from the preface to Science o[ the Cross reveals this: In the following pages the attempt has been made to grasp John of the Cross from the unity of his being, as it is expressed ~n his life and in his works, from a point of view that makes it possible to envisage this unity . What is said there on the ego, freedom and person, is not derived from the writings of our holy Father John. Though certain points of contact may be found, such theories were remote not only from his leading intention but from his mode of thought. For only modern philosophy has set itself the task of working out a philosophy of the person such as has been suggested in the passages just mentioned. ÷ Once more we recognize the unifying [actor which was + characteristic of her own life; unity of being. And this + leads us to the last dilemma which we wish to mention. $ean Leclercq REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 176 4. Harmony between Personal Experience and Serv-ice The question set here is how to share with others what we ourselves may have received in prayer: how may we legitimately share with Others our own personal experi-ence of God who reveals Himself to mankind? Divine revelation needs to be grasped by the human reason en-lightened by faith. It is faith alone that allows us to suck the honey out of the hard rock of the Scriptures. Learning is a help to deciphei'ing the letters, bfit the real key to Scriptural exegesis is faith contained in a pure heart--blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God. But the talent received must not be buried, it must be shared with others. Edith Stein writes: It may also happen that a sort of "office of the keys" is conferred on individuals or groups which have received the gift of Scriptural exegesis . To these spirits is given the office to transmit the light they receive . It is their duty to accept the Divine mysteries. . with. a purified mind .and to take charge of them. Th~s also ~mphes preaching and interpreting the Divine Word. Corresponding ~o the different modes and degrees of hiddenness, there are different modes and degrees of unveiling, degrees of office. Conclusion: The Science of the Cross There could be no better summary of all that has been said in this paper. At all periods, there is only one Chris-tian humanism, one Christian way of uniting love of learning with desire for God: the way of the cross, the narrow door of self-denial, the existential imitation of Jesus Christ, God made Man. When a scholar converts to God, dedicates his whole mind and heart to God in the carrying out of his professional duties of study or teaching, then, and only then, will he be a light shining in the darkness. Edith Stein tells us what she means by sicence of the cross: If we speak of the Science of the Cross, this is not to be understood as science in the ordinary sense: it is no mere theory . It is indeed known truth--a theology of the Cross~ but it is living, actual and active (wirkliche und wirksarne) truth: it is placed in the soul like a seed, takes root in her and grows, gives the soul a certain character and forms her in all she does or leaves undone, so that through this she herself shines forth and is recognized . From this form and force living in the depth of the soul is nourished the philosophy of this man and me way in which God and the world present themselves to him. For Edith Stein, as for every great and holy scholar throughout the ages, faith in God and His mystery are primordial: Where there is truly living faith, there the doctrines of the faith and the great deeds of God are the content of life, every-thing else must take second place and is formed by them. This is holy objectivity (heilige Sachlichkeit): the original interior receptivity of the soul reborn of the Holy Ghost. Whatever is brought to her, this she accepts in the proper way and depth; and it finds in her a living, mobile power ready to let itself be ÷ ÷ ÷ Culture VOLUME -~0, 1971 177 formed, and unhampered by false inhibitions and rigidity . If the mystery of the Cross becomes her inner form, then it becomes the science of the Cross. This science is a night, an absence: if we accept to believe in the divine Crucified then our language is silence for "All speaking about God presupposes God's speaking. His most real speaking is that before which human speech is silenced." ÷ ÷ + lean Leclercq REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 178 MARY-ANGELA HARPER A Layman's Response to Contemporary Religious While post-Vatican II laymen bustle about the business of shaping their new, enlarged role in the contemporary Church, many members of another segment of the People of God, the consecrated religious, without much notice from their lay brothers, are quietlyteari'ng themselves to shreds by agonizing selbcriticism. The general cause of this self-destruction seems to be a fear that traditional religious life is anachronistic both in form and purpose. The only hope for survival, these religious have decided, is radical change. To the laity, this "change" has meant new habits and new names and more frequent socializing. For the reli-gious, the speci.fics of change fall into one of two categor-ies: (a) concern with structures and relationships within the community and (b) concern with the function of reli-gious within the Christian community-at-large. On the one hand, therefore, religious .struggle with such questions as size and government, and with legisla-tion pertaining to prayer, work, recreation, and dress. And they scrutinize themselves as individuals to verify their personal authenticity. The criteria for this verifica-tion are contemporary philosophical and psychological definitions of man which emphasize the affective dimen-sion and the primacy of interpersonal relationships in meaningful human development. On the other hand, religious seek to identify the shape and character of their activities in a newly-valued, post-conciliar world that contemporary theologians recognize as not only redeemed but continually sanctified by Christ who abides within it. A genuine Christian mission, they believe, must be one of real involvement with the nuts and bolts of everyday living and a rubbing of shoulders with lay co-workers in the apostolic field that is the world. To be Christian missionaries, then, religious cannot ÷ ÷ Mary Angela Harper is chairman of the philosophy department; Dun-barton College o[ Holy Cross; Wash-ington, D.C. 20008. VOLUME ~0, 1971 179 4" M. A. Harper REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ]80 live a less-than-human existence, above and apart from the rest of men. They must purge religious life of any alienating, stereotyped, and distorted image and of out-moded, restrictive characteristics such as traditional vows and lockstep community exercises. These must be re-placed by a new and more democratic concept of reli-gious community which allows each individual to de-velop his own capacities in freedom and love and by new forms of religious activity that permit creativity, sponta-neity, affectivity, and the celebration of a redeemed hu-manity. And all of this is taking place ~vith relatively little public notice or comment from the lay element of the People of God, for whose sake religious toil, and whose acceptance they seek. But more interestingly, these con-siderations, critical as they have been to religious, are of little pressing concern even to the better informed lay-men, who nnderstand and sympathize with the crisis in religious life. As laymen see it, the effectiveness (and, therefore, justification) of consecrated commitment de-pends not upon what religious wear, or what they are called, or on how they organize their daily lives. The layman primitively and primarily cares that religious con-tinue to achieve their unique, specific and indispensable mission--to point to God. Now surely it is presumptuous, if not absurd, for any-one to assume the position of spokesman for the laity-at-large. Every layman responds to the world and to people and to situations differently, depending upon the varia-ble factors of education, spiritual formation, and per-sonal experience. My own response to contemporary reli-gious is indeed conditioned by each of these factors. But it is also and especially determined by a specific view of our post-Vatican II world. The first statement pertaining to this contemporary Christian Weltanschauung main-tains that existence today is an organic, interpersonal complex, in which all individuals, loyal to their unique identities, nonetheless recognize that the perfection of this identity takes place in a process of completion by others. It is with others that each individual achieves his own identity, and together, by mutual interaction, that all attain the perfection of the whole that is our world. This is the characteristic of complementarity. But equally important is the correlative principle which maintains that this organic, interpersonal universe is sustained and vivified by belief in Christ who is God and in a divine kingdom in which humanity will be absolutely perfected. Authentic existence in the real world of today, then, is a life predicated upon interper-sonal cooperation, but simultaneously upon co-commun-ion in Christ as a pledge of the Parousia. All the People of God are bound together by a recognition of the neces-sity of others, which is reinforced and transfused by Christian love--the giving of the self to achieve the oth-er's perfection in Christ. And each thus con.tributes to the integral and absolute perfection of all in the kingdom of God. Now, if this "new look" of a nearly 21st century world turns on such an enlarged principle of complementarity, and if a meaningfully contemporary Christian world is a complex of Christ-loving, kingdom-seeking, mutually per-fecting human spirits, then distinction and difference is as significant as unanimity and wholeness, because with-out these characteristics, we might achieve fusion, but never complementation. Moreover, a lack of unique perfection in any individ-ual component in this interconnected, organic complex, is a loss, not only to the totum, but to all others as individuals. This was the message of Henri de Lubac ten years ago when he wrote of the Church as the "corporate destiny of mankind," and explained that "in the measure of [each one's] strength and according to his own voca-tion- for the gifts of the one spirit differ, and in the unity of one same body, each member has a different function--leach] will labour heart and soul to achieve it. If he fails fall] will feel it as a wound in [their] own flesh." 1 The uniqueness of the individual contribution gives a specific character to the whole Christian commu-nity which cannot be replaced by another. And the perfection of one is the perfection of all. And this is the message today when we use the term witness to identify the Christian mission in a post-Coun-cil world. William J. Richardson, S. J., has analyzed the contemporary notion of witness~ and notes that it "in-volves a double communion--communion, between the witness and the truth, or person to which/whom he testi-fies; [and also] a communion . between the truth/per-son and the tribunal or persons before whom the witness testifies." This double communion is suggested by the formulae being witness and bearing witness. To be a witness, Father Richardson says, is to be so identified with a person or truth that to deny these would be to deny oneself. Moreover, "the quality of witness will be measured by the intimacy of the union between the witness and the one to whom he testifies, the extent to which they become one." To bear witness is to share this person with other per- ¯ Henri de Lubac, S.J., Catholicism (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1958), p. 31. 2William J. Richardson, S.J., The University and the Formation of the Christian, an unpublished manuscript, copyrighted by the author, 1958. ÷ ÷ Layman's Response to Religious VOLUME 30, 1971 18! ÷ M. A. Harper REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 182 sons. And the result of the sharing is that the witness thereby grows more deeply in the communion himself because, within an interacting complex, he now contacts this reality through the communion of others which was heretofore denied him. All witnesses, therefore, enrich one another within the organic whole that is the testify-ing community, and achieve growth and perfection by an interpenetrating exchange of individual identity and meaning. Should the uniqueness of the individual be less-ened or lost, however, the totum would suffer irreparably. In terms of witness, this presence, this communication of meaning would be denied to the Christian community, which becomes radically impoverished. Now, what is the witness of consecrated religious? What do these men and women offer the Christian community and to each individual within it that is unique and indis-pensable, and without which each of us would suffer? Consecrated religious are witnesses, par excellence, to the Pilgrim Church, and to the truth that the Christian com-munity is, in fact, on its way to Almighty God. As Sidney Callahan has observed in Beyond Birth Con-trol, 3 present existence is 9ctually a life of incomplete-ness; perfection and completed history await the Parou-sia. "Those who choose [consecrated religious lives]", she says, "live the sign of incompleteness, of fulfillment to come, of aspiration to a more complete community and pe.rfect unity." By our own distinctive form of existence, we, the laity, witness to a restored creation which James O'Reilly ex-plains in "Lay and Religious States" 4 reveals "the power and goodness of business, marriage ~nd freedom [to] carry us toward the kingdom." By virtue of their distinc-tive state of life, consecrated religious witness to "the limited character of the goodness of property, of spouse [and] of liberty." ~ They give witness to the truth that although possessions and ownership, marital love and total psycho-physical unity, unlimited movement and op-portunity, are good, God is still better. No matter how intrinsically valuable these considerations may be, they do not suffice of themselves to bring human existence to completion and perfection. This can only be achieved by our releasing control and, in Father O'Reilly's words, letting the world "slip into the hands of God," 6 who saves and completes and perfects. Consecrated religious help us laymen to loosen our hold and to let go. 8Sidney Cornelia Callahan, Beyond Birth Control (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1968), p. 80. ~James O'Reilly, "Lay and Religious States," REviEw fOR REU-GiOOS, v. 27 (1968), pp. 1027-52. Ibid., p. 1051. Ibid. Such a minor miracle is wrought by their reminder to us of our need to be pilgrims. And this they effect by their public vow of total commitment to a communal life manifestly lived in poverty, celibacy, and obedience (or whatever language they choose to signify these realities), which reinforce in us the truth that one gain~ by giving. We, who behold such a commitment, and recognize it as the foundation of all human religious development--and who may even be living these values, though in a less concentrated, less explicit form--we look to religious for inspiration and for guidance. And by their spirit of sim-ple frugality, availability, and openness, they sustain us in our efforts to rightfully enrich this world, and to de-velop and fulfill our human personalities, but with hearts turned heavenward. To this end, religious provide us with a working model of persons-in-c~ommunity and of a united humanity. In the day-to-day liv.ing of this value, they confront us with the actual experience of availability and generosity which reminds us of our need for others, and of our obligation to care and to spend ourselves for one another. By their refusal to seek perfection in isolation, manifesting instead responsibility for others within (and beyond) their com-munity, they instruct us that the meaning of authentic human freedom involves limitation and amounts to de-termined- indetermination. And by refusing to choose those with whom they live on the basis of common inter-ests or congeniality, they instruct us that the comm~unity of man must be a gathering together, not for personal gratification, but rather to share and reenforce one an-other in the love of God. Consecrated religious help us to reconcile apparent conflicts between the human and the divine by their pure, simple, and direct vision, which embraces both man and God in a single gaze. And by their evident spirit of prayer, they redirect our consciousness, not exclusively outward to legitimate worldly cqncerns, but inward to the center of our being, where we contact ourselves most truly, and discover here that our own meaning is rooted in a divine source. And they bring us a joy that seems to us to shine forth from the wellsprings of their personal communion with the divine; and we warm ourselves in its brightness, and feel it, somehow, transform us. Nor are these merely psychological phenomena, wrapped around us like a security blanket. We are, I think, well adjusted, often well educated laymen, quite convinced of our dignity as laymen. We are not having an identity crisis. In fact, quite to the contrary, we have discovered ourselves, and the significance of our roles as mature Christians, for the first time in history. But we also believe in the necessity and intrinsic value of a reli-÷ ÷ ÷ Layman's Response to Religious VOLUME 30, 1971 183 + + 4. M. A. Harper REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ]84 gious liIe o[ total commitment to God. We acknowledge the indispensable contribution it makes to the Christian community and sincerely belie;ce that this contribution depends upon the preservation of its unique sign-value. Moreover, we hope that it will be meaningfully and truly implemented. Such "true" implementation, in the mind of the lay-men, involves certain conditions, however. First of all, the laity expect religious to be honestly poor. Such pov-erty the layman does not confuse with destitution, but rather understands as involving what the Duquesne Uni-versity Institute of Man program refers to as a "respectful use and celebration of things natural and cultural as gifts of the holy." We appreciate the fact that books, facilities, time, and recreational opportunities are necessary for the religious to function professionally. But we also expect evidence of what Ladislas M. Orsy, S. J. calls "the effica-cious desire to give away [everything] in the name of God's kingdom." 7 All this world's bounty,, therefore, could be employed naturally, intelligently, and happily, but with the evident and effective intention of always viewing the acquisition and use of created goods (including the self) in the con-text of community. Moreover, this intention would em-brace a life-style modeled on that of Christ Himself, whose life was one of frugal simplicity, of reverence for creation, and of availability to all men. Secondly, the laity respond appreciatively to the celi-bate state when it is conceived (to borrow again from the Institute of Man) as involving a "respectful love of self and others as uniquely called and graced by the Sacred." Such love would seek to establish r.elationships of friend-ship with fellow religious and laity, and these would be humanly warm and expressive and unstrained by old fears of compromise and contamination by sexual compli-cations- phobias that have happily been laid to rest.It would presuppose a genuine rejoicing in the goodness of the lay role and the married state and preclude an artifi-cial hierarchical understanding of vocations or distorting comparison of functions based on measures of perfection. And, of course, it would thoroughly dispose of any "mys-tique" of religious life. Celibate love knows that each state of life is necessary to the other, and that each develops in perfection and grace in terms of its counterpart.8 It understands that re-ligious and laity must be wholly open to one another as persons in our contemporary Christian world, because 7 Ladislas M. Orsy, S.J., "Poverty in the Religious Life," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, V. 26 (1967), pp. 60--82. sSee David B. Burrel], C.S.C., "Complementarity," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, V. 26 (1967), pp. 149-60, for a discussion of this point. this is the sine qua non of both human friendship and Christian love. To this end, it welcomes opportunities to join the laity in their homes for occasions of social sig-nificance, and also cordially unlocks the cloister doors so that laymen may breathe of the spirit that uniquely dwells there. But in all these interpersonal relationships, the laymen expects that celibate love will be permeated and directed by a necessary wisdom which is sensitive to the priority of God's relationship to each soul, and efficaciously con-cerned not to frustrate God's plan for it. Thirdly, laymen expect religious, whether they be "subordinates" or "superiors" (or whatever new titles they use) to live a life of genuine obedience. Such a life is nurtured and guided by a r~spectful alertness to what the Institute of Man calls "the dynamics of the life situation as a temporal and local manifestation of God." This means that all elements of a religious community must be finely tuned-in to the real and concrete and changing needs of the world and the Church. It means, in fact, redefining obedience as the act of listening--listening to the will of almighty God making itself explicit through the Scriptures, indeed, but also through the events of the world, the activities of daily living, and through personal contacts with us laymen. In the light of this concept of obedience as listening, the specific authority structures of a religious community seem to us relatively unimportant. What matters is that all members, including "superiors" (and presumably there will always be someone who formally accepts re-sponsibility for the community), to appreciate the neces-sity of others in the decision-making process. They must understand that this imperative follows from the incom-pleteness of any individual in value and operation, and from everyone's need for complementation and perfect-ing. Finally, but actually firstly, the laity expect consecrated religious to be men and women well versed in the art of prayer. We have observed that their prayer life produces an intimacy .with almighty God that penetrates their whole being; and we have often experienced the truth that contact with them is a happy, homely contact with the Divine. Somehow, laymen find it difficult to speak easily or publicly with loving familiarity of God, and tend to tuck Him away for private moments. Yet our hearts respond with almost childlike delight when reli-gious women and men effect His presence in our midst by their relaxed reference to the divine Person who is their friend. But His presentation must also be honest. He must be there as the genuine beloved, or the introduction will .generate resentment and distrust and even, some-÷ ÷ + Layman's Response to Religi'ous VOLUME ~0, 1971 ÷ ÷ M. A. Ha~per times, contempt. And, of course, regular, vital, personal prayer makes the difference--prayer for which action is no substitute. But laymen do expect religious to be action people as well. They expect to find religious present in all situa-tions of want, be these physical poverty, or infirmity, or social injustice, and to support the laity in their human commitment to one another. Moreover, we welcome them to work alongside us in our professions, which we hope and anticipate they will competently enrich by their unique intimacy with and witness tQ. Christ. In all these activities, however, we ask the consecrated religious not to blur their identity with ours. Such blur-ring does not necessarily take place by their choosing ordinary lay clothing instead of traditional habits, though many laymen appreciate some sort of identifiable although contemporary dress or insignia for professional or public appearances, and the reserving of anonymity for private occasions. More to the point is the signaling of God's kingdom mentioned before--the "pilgrim witness" which per-meates the entire personality of the consecrated religious. In the rhythmic, interpenetrating flow of action between the human and the divine in all Christian lives, the lay-man publishes and protects the human. But it is the consecrated religious who points to the divine, and who must give this sign the highest visibility. In days gone by, such visibility was carefully prescribed by rules which governed all aspects of religious life, in-cluding prayer, dress, and general decorum. Today it is a matter of individual responsibility, and each religious must seek ways to radiate God in his own life, and by his own style--a difficult project, indeed, with the old guide-lines gone, and none very clear or precise to take their place. No wonder there have been dark moments of con-fusion, insecurity, and doubts. And the worst may be yet to come as religious-in-transition continue to probe and test their inspirations. During all their struggles, however, we laymen want religious to trust and draw strength from our loyalty and devotion, and from our great confidence that religious will solve their problems and, in their own proper way, continue to mature in Christ. But, most importantly, on every occasion of solicited or unsolicited criticism from us post-Council laymen, we want religious to understand and believe how humanly and eschatalogically, but uniquely, we need them! REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 186 BENEDICT M. ASHLEY, O.P. Toward an American Theology of Contemplation Introduction In* the process of renewal of religious life in the United States no question is more polarizing than the role of "contemplation" in religious life today. Some-how Americans have always had difficulty about this question. At the time of the confused "Americanism" controversy in the 1880's, among other errors supposed to be prevalent in the American Church Leo XIII con-demned the emphasis on the active rather khan the con-templative life.1 In a recent history of the Dominican fathers in the United States, The American Dominicans, Father Reginald Coffey has made very clear how the attempt to transplant the Dominican ideal of "contem-plata aliis tradere" ran into astonishing difficulties which have never been resolved after 170 years of earnest effort.2 What is true of the Dominicans. can be paralleled in most of the other" religious orders who came to this coun-try. We cannot ignore this experience, nor assume that the difficulty has arisen because we just have not tried hard enough. Perhaps the reason is that we have been trying to do the impossible and have not had the intellectual courage to think the whole matter through to a better and more practical solution. We have tried to import into American culture a mode of the awareness of God * This article is based on a talk originally given to a meeting of the Dominican Education Association in Atlantic City, April 2 1970. 1See T. T. McAvoy, C.S.C., The American Heresy in Roman Catholicism, 1895-1900 (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame, 196~). ~Reginald Coffey, O.P., The American Dominicans (New York: St. Martin de Porres Guild, 141 East 65th St., 1968). 4- Benedict Ashley, O.P., is a member of the Institute of Religion and Hu-man Development; Texas Medical Cen-ter; Houston, Texas 77025. VOLUME 30, 1971 187 B. M. Ashley, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 188 which arose in European culture and which can be achieved in our culture only with strain and artificiality. After all, God reveals Himself to men in the way that He chooses; and He ordinarily chooses a mode of revela-tion suited to their concrete experience and style of life. If contemplation is to be vital for us it must arise from a contact with God present in our world, not in the world of the 13th century, nor the 17th nor the 19th, nor in an artificial world created by a romantic love of the past. Just as we realize there is something decadent in building Gothic churches as if God could only be found in a particular style of architecture, so it is deca-dent to seek a form of prayer in a style of life that is only artificially re-created. We need to study our own culture and see whether in its system of values there is room for an authentic contemplative life. Pragmatism The United States of America as a people began with a theological conception of its mission. Our most influ-ential founders saw this country as a promised land, "the land of opportunity" in which God had given mankind a new chance to realize the kingdom of God, freed from the traditional compromises which the Church had made in Europe with tyrannical monarchies.3 This conception of mission was reenforced by the ac-tual experience of the pioneers in possessing the land, then of American government and business in applying scientific methods of organization and technology to the control of the environment and to the mass education and human development of the people. These experiences have given us a particular under-standing of what truth is. Our most dominant philosophy under thinkers like James, Peirce, and Dewey expresses this idea of truth as.pragmatic or instrumental. Some have understood this philosophy to mean that truth is valuable only as a practical instrument. A study of Dewey will show that this is a misunderstanding. Americans do not limit truth to the role of a mere tool of action, but what they say is that unless truth is effective, unless it leads to change, to growth, to progress, to the liberation of man, it cannot be genuine truth. It follows that the traditional Greek idea of "contem-plation" is very hard for an American to grasp. What do you contemplate? If it is the world or ourselves, then to know the world and ourselves is to see something that ~On the concept of an American theology see the symposium Projections: Shaping an American Theology [or the Future, ed. by Thomas F. O'Meara, O.P. (Garden City: Doubleday, 1970); and Herbert Richardson, Towards an American Theology (New York, 1967). needs to be improved and freed from its restrictions. If you say we contemplate God, then the American says: "Why should I look at God from a distance? If I really engage God as a person, then we must do something to-gether. Surely God is not idl~. To be with God is to engage with Him in His work, and His work is with His world and the people who are His people. We can understand working with someone, we can understand playing with someone, but just looking at some one. !" Tradition Americans experience the past as something foreign (Europe, Mexico, the Far East). As such it fascinates us, and the world is filled with American archaeologists and anthropologists and historical researchers digging into the past and the primitive. But the value, of the past for us is that it tells us "how far we have come" and encourages us to change even more. It does not set for us a norm or a stamp of approval on what we are now doing. In fact, we are inclined to be uneasy if we realize that we are still doing what men found useful in the past. If it was useful then, surely it can be only a hindrance now when we live in such a different age. When we do admire something traditional it is precisely b~cause it is still a success. We marvel that its originators could have been so foresighted, but there must be experiential proof that it still works. From this point of view a young American religious can admire the founder of his order for being so "mod-ern" in the sense that for his times he was forward-look-ing. But the reason, above all, that our vocations are few and that so many younger people leave is that it appears to them that the religious orders are not preparing for the future. To speak to persons of this mentality about the "nnchanging essentials" of religious life. and its time-tested means of silence, cloister, Office, and study that have produced so many saints in the past, is precisely to confirm their greatest fear that their order lives in the past. A young Dominican I know once said: "Our Order is no longer the Order of Trutk, since if it possessed the Truth it would be changing to meet the future. Truth is the capacity to change for the future." Thus, if contemplation is a call to withdraw into the silence of the cloister, to spend much of the day in the chapel at Office or in the library studying the documents of the past in order to occasionally preach a sermon or deliver a lecture, it is not easy to see how this fidelity to the "tried and true" methods of tradition is anything but a "cop-out" from problems of the present. It is worse than taking drugs, because the use of drugs is turning people on to new experiences, while the old monastic ÷ ÷ ÷ Contemplation VOLUME 30~ 1971 189 B. M. Ashley, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS methods seem in actual fact to close people up in stale routines. Prophecy There is a kind of divine truth which the American mind can appreciate, the truth of prophecy. Authentic prophecy, in Biblical terms, is an interpretation and criticism of the present, which also has the effective power to produce the future. It is a call to man to act in co-operation with God, and it announces the doom of him who hesitate~. It is a pragmatic truth in the deepest sense. Writers on contemplation generally emphasize that it is a receptivity or openness to transcendent reality. With-out this receptivity human activity becomes feverish, shallow, and ineffective. I think Americans respond with real understanding to this concept of openness. It is no accident that our country has produced in the psychiatrist' Carl Rogers a remarkable exponent of the "art of listen-ing" who has shown that the basis of all human life is the capacity to be really open to the communication of another person, a communication deeper than mere words.4 But notice the great difference between the American idea of openness and receptivity and that of the monastic tradition as we have ordinarily tried to live it. To be open in the American sense one has to be in the midst of the world and of persons, in the situations where peo-ple are interacting and where God is bringing people together. The monastery seems ideally designed to close people off from one another, and hence to God. What the American tends to see in the monastic tradi-tion is essentially a dualism. There is a dualism of the body and the mind, of matter and spirit, of the world and the cloister, the secular and the sacred, the active and the contemplative. What he protests against is not the mind, the spirit, the cloister, the sacred, or contem-plation, but a tradition which seems to force us to di-chotomize these and to prefer one to the other, or even to make one the basis of the other. The American be-lieves that there must be a contemplative, receptive ele-ment in communication but it is part of a rhythm of action and reception, of interaction. It makes no sense, therefore, to argue that "we contemplate in order to give to others." The giving and receiving are joined in a single activity. We are learning about reality as we act to change it or to communicate with it. *Carl R. Rogers, On Becoming a Person (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1961), Chapter 1: "This Is Me." Criticism I think I have said enough to show why the.terms in which traditional books discuss the problem of contem-plation make little sense to young Americans and, I would think, to young Europeans also, because in this the American style of thought has taken a lead throughout the world. It is not true, however, that Americans accept this pragmatic attitude without criticism. To see the need of prophecy as a criticism of our times entails also an attitude of self-criticism. In this the American fondness for depth-psychology, "group dynamics," and "sensitivity training" is characteristic. Americans are seeking a pecu-liar mode of asceticism which involves an exposure of hidden motives to the scrutiny of others. The American is haunted by the fear that he cannot change, that he cannot grow because of fixations, because of blindness and illusion. He is anxious, therefore, to uncover in himself the obstacles to growth. At the present Americans are engaged in-deep self-criticism. We realize that in one sense and paradoxically we are the most conservative country in the developed World. The rapidity of change in the United States has driven the "silent majority" of our people into a defen-sive position. The silent majority (if it is that) iti our religious convents is only a reflection of that frightened conservatism which pervades the whole of American so-ciety. This has produced an atmosphere which is near panic and despair. Americans are deeply frightened that at this moment when we feel so desperately the need to meet the future we will be unable to do so, that we are already locked int6 structures (which we ourselves built) and which we cannot dismantle rapidly enough. The racial problem or the poverty problem in the United States is typical. All of us, even the most conservative really admit that racial discrimination and poverty must go; but we are afraid that the strains of accomplishing this will be more [han we as a society can undertake in a short time, and that tomorrow it will be too late. This self-criticism is, therefore, terribly urgent for the American, and it must be radical. It cannot simply be a matter ~f "adaptation," nor can it be a matter of changing the "accidentals" and retaining the "essentials." We do not think in those terms. What we need, we think, is a new model. It may retain many features of the old, but it must constitute somehow a new response to the future. This entails the serious consideration of whether we should retain the traditional forms of religious life or whether it is necessary to begin new ones. This does not entail, please, notice, that Americans ÷ ÷ ÷ Contemplation VOLUME 30, 1971 191 ÷ + ÷ B. M. Ashley, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS a priori want new and American forms of religious life. Our pragmatism is deeper than that. We are perfectly ready to keep the existing orders if they are el~ective, but not otherwise. Inherent in this self-criticism is also the growing reali-zation that American culture is itself quite sick, and that one of its deep sicknesses is activism. Throughout Amer-ican culture in the most unlikely places there is a strong reaction against pragmatism cbnceived as a religion of success and material productivity. These are seen as de-humanizing, as reducing man to a servant of the ma-chine, of things. Thus American pragmatism is taking a new and purified form. It is still a conviction that truth must be effective, but the effect sought is not material; it is rather to be judged in terms of "the quality of life," a widened and deepened experience, a more intimate communication with other persons, a freer realization of man's creative potential. Experimentalism The outcome of this is that young Americans are looking hopefully to pluralism and experimentalism. Theologically this is understood by many young Catho-olics as the liberating work of the Holy Spirit who dis-tributes His diverse gifts to individuals and groups. In religious life this means a diversity of "life-styles" and apostolates. The danger here, of course, is that the unity of a religious community will be completely disrupted. Sociologists are among the first to warn us that the weak-ening structures and symbols of group unity may render a community completely dysfunctional. However, the advocates of this pluralism and experi-mentalism join it with an insistence on communica-tion, evaluation, feed-back: They do not propose a proc-ess of splintering, but rather a rhythm of changing life in which forms are developed through an interchange of experiences and ideas, and then constantly revised in view of ongoing experience and new ideas. In such a conception it becomes hopeless to talk about "essentials" and "adaptations," and the discussion rather takes the form of talking about "the enrichment of values." The Basic Question Perhaps nothing is more crucial in "this question than the diagnosis which each side makes of the "signs of our times." A recent writer on the renewal of religious life, while conceding many pgsitive aspects to the present sit-uation, singles out as our deepest sickness our secularism, and "insensitivity to the transcendent." ~ This means that for him God is primarily the transcendent, and that He is to be found, therefore, by the various monastic tech-niques by which a man turns away from the noise of the world to the silence beyond the world. This, however, is the very point in question. Is God to be known primarily as "the transcendent?" He may have revealed himself in the monastic period" of the Church primarily in that way, and through the practices of silent and cloistered meditation. But is this the way that He has willed to reveal Himself today? After all, to accept an historical view of revelation as most theologians do today, also entails the conviction that God reveals Him-self to men historically in a way specific to the time. Our problem becomes, therefore, to search for God to-day where He reveals Himself and according to the man-ner in which He, as Lord of History, dictates, not ac-cording to some tradition, however venerable. Our younger people have the conviction that somehow this point of revelation is precisely in the secular, in the pov-erty and the need of our world. This need felt by the world is not an explicit religious need. Rather it is a simple human need of justice, of love, and of peace, but it is authentic need, and that is why God is to be found there. After all Jesus Himself said: "I was poor, hungry, ¯ naked, and in prison, and you did not visit me." ¯ Receptivity Are we then to lose ourselves in meeting the social problems of our time? Is there not a real danger that tak-ing the form of our life from the apostolate we will simply become humanitarian activists? We already see many who are leaving religious life to engage themselves as lay persons in the problems of the world and who in a short time seem to have lost all prophetic sense and simply to have succumbed to the dead routine of com-mercial society. How then can we develop a sincere re-ceptivity to the word of God? It appears incredible to our younger people that this is to be achieved by a return to "conventual life" in its monastic form. Nothing in their experience points this way. Nor do they see in us older religious very convincing proofs that this type of life has in fact made us receptive to what God is doing today. Rather they see that the conservative advocates of regular observance were and are closed to the work of the spirit which has manifested itself in Vatican II in a manner whose authenticity cannot be mistaken. ~Valentine Walgrave, O.P., Do~ninican Self-Appraisal in the Light of the Council (Chicago: Priory, 1968), pp. 112-20. ÷ ÷ + Contemplation VOLUME 30, 1971 193 ÷ ÷ ÷ B. M. Ashley, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS The first step, therefore, to a renewal of genuine re-ceptivity to the Spirit, to authentic contemplation, is an awakened sensitivity to the world's needs, to the 15resente of Jesus in the poor, the suffering, and the despairing. There is, however, a danger that concern for social ills will become a mere "cause," an abstract party ideology little concerned with real people, as Marxism has be-come. To be Christian this concern for the poor and re-ceptivity to their needs must be brought close to home and must become a receptivity to the persons in our daily lives. Hence, we cannot achieve a renewal of the contemplative spirit unless we begin with an increased sensitivity to the human needs of those around us, an openness to dialogue, a freedom of communication. This ability to hear others and to respond to them is hindered by our own lack of self-understanding, which al-lows barriers of communication to grow within us. In the past these walls against others have actually been reenforced by the conventual observances so that nnder the guise of seeking to be more receptive to God we have closed ourselves off to our neighbors. The parable of the Good Samaritan summarizes the tragic fact that religious purity can be an excuse for "passing by on the other side." This growth in self-understanding can, of course, lead to self-centeredness, just as the practice of meditation and examination of conscience sometimes did. The remedy for this excessive subjectivity is study. Books cannot sub-stitute for experience, but experience in interpersonal re-lations does not necessarily produce deeper insight unless it is accompanied by study. If we are to be prophetic men and women we must make use of all the knowledge ¯ ~hich modern science furnishes to help us understand man and his condition; and we must push this explora-tion to its philosophical and theological depths. Perhaps our greatest danger at the moment is to settle for a psy-chological view of man which is positivistic in character and which does not push behind positivist assumptions to the basic problems of human existence. When we speak of study, however, it cannot be a study of texts. In America today, more and more the advance of learning is pulling itself free from the printed page and is becoming a matter of the laboratory, the clinic, the symposium, the workshop. A group of men and women, therefore, who are to be a community of study today will not look like a monastic library or scriptorium; but it will be in constant contact with the gathering of empirical data and the debating of theoretical hypotheses. Because in our times a prophet must also be deeply involved in professional life, he can become overly cere-bral, a human computer. He must fight free of getting trapped in the narrow world of scientic and technological rationalism. If religious life is to foster a prophetic open-ness to reality, it must not reduce our energies to the lim-its of efficient work and productive routine. The esthetic, creative, and spiritual components of human personality must be awakened and developed. The dualism which infected Christian asceticism in the past often led to an atmosphere in which we became closed to all reality which threatened the arousal of our emotions. A certain type of Thomism closed us up in a tight world of defini-tions and classifications that excluded much of God's world of beauty, mystery, and experiential insight. If we are to be open to the prophetic Spirit we must make place in our lives for genuine celebration, the praise of God in His world. The Divine Office originated in such a spirit of praise, but that does not mean that it is today a genuine celebration. Nor are we sure that it can be. In any case we have the obligation to find a way to celebrate our community life in God if we are to be a prophetic community. American life today in a country that possesses half of the world's wealth is clear proof that our riches, which could be the solution to world poverty, are the chief cause of our apathy to poverty. This is true also of our search for security in sex and family, in personal au-tonomy and professional competence. We cannot criti-cize this idolatrous American search for security if our conventual life is itself aimed at security. Thank God, we are becoming insecure! Our decline in vocations is forcing us to liquidate our property and to face a doubt-ful future. We are frightened by the decline in apprecia-tion for celibacy. Is not this the payment for our lack of poverty? If we have a genuine eschatological sense of the urgency of the world's problems--if we were expect-ing to go to jail soon for our share in the revolution-- then celibacy would become very logical. This is true also of obedience. Obedience makes-sense when it is a response to a leadership ready to risk all. American Monasticism Does all this mean that there is no place in American culture for monks or nuns devoted to the contemplative life without an exterior apostolate? The life of Thomas Merton was a sign for us that such a conclusion would be too hasty.0 Americans dislike the ancient dualism be-tween contemplation and action, but they do understand the principle of specialization. If contemplation as a ~ Thomas Merton, Contemplative Prayer (New. York: Herder and Herder, 1969). 4- 4- + Contemplation VOLUME 30, 1971 195 ÷ ÷ ÷ B. M. Ashley, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 196 value is to be vigorous in American life it must have its specialists. We look to such specialists of contemplation, however, for a pragmatic demonstration that is convincing to our times. Merton provided such a test by showing that his life in the hermitage had made him more sensitive to the problems and opportunities of our times than most of us in active life. If the cloister is to draw young Americans, it should not offer them a retreat from the world, but a place to confront the issues of our time in an intense encounter where every illusion is stripped away. Most of us see our times through the TV screen carefully in-terlaced with commercials whose message is middle-class complacency. If we are to have cloisters, they must be places in which contemplatives look reality square in the face. Far from destroying the monastic tradition this would be a return to its original inspiration which, according to Father Bouyer, was not to escape the world and its evils but to confront them in the desert of unflinching truth, like Jesus "who was led into the desert by the Spirit to be tried by the devil." 7 This requires a rethinking of the traditional monastic means of silence, choral prayer, discipline, and the clois-ter so as to make these truly effective means to a profound self-knowledge, a knowledge of ourselves not cut off from the world, but as responsible for it. It means too that the insight achieved must be shared with others by modes of communication that are effective in our society, and it is here that the deep American interest in com-munications verbal and non-verbal must come into play. The Active Religious Communities Those religious communities dedicated to an active exterior apostolate, if they are to root that apostolate in the authentic receptivity of spirit required to hear the word of God calling to us from crisis situations, need to get to work on the following objectives: 1. Our first objective must be to locate and operate our communities in situations where we will be forced to confront the problems of our time. We must seek a form of life which does not permit us to protect our-selves by false securities from the urgency of the situa-tions which make a prophetic witness a constant demand upon us. Our obedience, chastity, and poverty must be-come functional because they are necessary for us in our r Louis Bouyer, The Spirituality of the New Testament and the Fathers (New York: Descl~e, 1963), especially Chapter 13: "The Origins of Monasticism," pp. 300-3. state of emergency. Our security must be in faith and hope in God alone. 2. Our next objective should be to support each other in this common emergency through a community life that is based on a spirit of openness, receptivity/and di-alogue. A pluralism of life styles and points of view must be combined with a vigorous effort for greater unity .through experiment and dialogue. We must encourage the emergence of leadership, and we must foster the gifts of the Spirit in each member of the community. 3. We must break through the current tendency to faddism and a superficial copying of the techniques of scientific positivism to a deeper, prophetic understanding of man and his problems in the light of the Gospel. This demands that our communities be places of research and study where people of different experiences and compe-tencies can meet to raise penetrating questions and en-gage in mutual criticism of opinions. 4. In order to achieve this openness and to be able to meet the conflict involved in the clash of opinions and tendencies we must in our communities seek a profound purification of the spirit. We should not neglect the techniques provided by modern psychology'and sociology to help us overcome immature and prejudiced modes of thinking, feeling, and acting. Beyond this we must by a disciplined simplicity of life and by personal and com-munity prayer open the way to the action of God's grace. 5. We must find the courage for this renewal in a spirit of celebration of the presence of God in the world and in our community through liturgical prayer and through a genuine enjoyment of friendship in the com-munity and with those we serve. The Eucharist and the praise of God must become for us the fundamental life styIe which unites us in a pluralism of expression and activities. Some will ask: When in all this complex of activities will we come face to face with God, alone and in silence? Can there be genuine contemplation without this naked confrontation? There cannot be. But it is God Himself who calls us to face Him. If He does not call, then we cannot find Him. Therefore, the beginning of our contemplative re-newal must be to answer Him where and when He calls ÷ to us. It seems that today in the United States God is ÷ calling us not in a silent cloister, which is hardly to be + found, but in the situations of fear and doubt, in the desert of alienation, and at the gates of hope where Jesus stands side by side with suffering men and women. We must meet Him there with faith. It is my belief that a religious community which takes this step will be Contemplation VOLUME 30, 1971 197 more truly obedient, chaste, poor, charitable, studious, prayerful, receptive of God's word, and urgently driven to bring God's word to others in their need, than a com-munity which applies itself to some illusion of con-ventual observance. What then is my conclusion? Our American experience shows a great need today of a prophetic mission which will enable men to find God at work in the critical situations of our society. No doubt there is also need of men and women who so feel the urgency of this pro-phetic task, that they are willing to put aside economic, family, and individual securities, to work as a commu-- nity to help the larger community of the Church per-form this task better. Such a community cannot fulfill its prophetic mission unless it is deeply engaged in the world's problems, but it cannot be content to meet these problems superficially. It must penetrate them to the deepest level where God reveals Himself. This implies a search for God in our life together in tl~e world made ever more profound by study, dialogue, discipline, prayer, suffering, and celebration. ÷ ÷ ÷ B. M. AshleT, O.P. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 198 BERNARD VERKAMP Cultic Purity and the Law,of Celibacy The situation as a whole of the early Church, Jean Paul Audet has noted, was one of tremendous simpli-fication. 1 With this simplification came a general flexi-bility, which also found expression in the early structures of the Christian priesthood. Both in the service of the gospel and the ecclesia, the early Christians broke out of the fixed patterns of a sacral priesthood, and freely adopted whatever structures most suited their work." Thus, to come to the subject of our present concern, while some chose to leave their wives or husbands, others, the majority, continued to pursue their mission out of the context of a married and home life.s What is most sig-nificant, however, is that neither one nor the other style of life was thought to be, in itself, incompatible with service. Both were viable options. And such was to re-main the case throughout the first centuries of Christi-anity. In the year 305, however, nineteen bishops from differ-ent parts of Spain gathered at the Synod of Elvira and issued along with various other very stringent measures,4 the following canon touching upon the marital status of the clergy: Placuit in totum prohibere episcopis, presbyteris et diaconi-bus vel omnibus clericis positis in ministerio abstinere se a 1 j. p. Audet, Structures of Christian Priesthood, New York, 1968, p. 80. "~ Ibid., p. 79. ~ Ibid., p. 41. ~ Canon 13 states that a virgiu consecrated to God and committing a carnal sin could receive communion only at the end of her life and after perpetual penance. Bishops, priests, and deacons detected in fornication were, according to Canon 18, to be denied communion for the rest of their lives. And, according to Canon 71, pederasts were not to be admitted to communion even on their deathbeds (Hefele-Leclerq, Histoire des Conciles, Paris, 1907, 1.1, pp. 212-264). ÷ ÷ ÷ Father Bernard Verkamp, a doc-toral candidate in the St. Louis Uni-versity Divinity School, lives at 3658 West Pine Boulevard; St. Louis, Mo. 63108. VOLUME 30, 1971 199 ÷ ÷ ÷ B. Verkamp REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS '~00 conjugibus suis et non generare filios: quicumque vero [ecerit, ab honore clericatus exterminetur? While stating exactly the opposite, the synod appar-ently meant to forbid bishops, priests, and deacons from continuing sexual relations with their wives.~ Nothing is said about separation of the clerics from their wives; only that they may not relate sexually. There is no ques-tion here of the synod desiring to render the clergy more available for apostolic service. Rather is the prohibition clearly motivated by a concern for cultic purity. This conclusion is further supported by,the phrasing of the canon: ".vel omnibus clericis positis in ministerio." Were this phrase disjunctive, it might have been in-tended only to extend the prohibition to yet another class of clergy, namely, subdeacons. But, in all likelihood,; it is meant to be explicative--with "vel" meaning "id est" --so that the canon must read: "It pleases us to forbid absolutely bishops, priests, and deacons, that is, all clerics engaged in the service of the altarS., from relating sex-ually to their wives and having children." Combining as it does such a variety of elements, it is difficult to say exactly when and by whom this notion of cultic purity was first ushered into Christianity.° But "Canon 1, Hefele-Leclerq, pp. 238-239. " Literally, the canon forbids bishops, priests, and deacons to abstain from intercourse and not to have children. Such a prohibi-tion might have made sense some eighty years later in Spain when the Priscillian brand of Manichaeism was rampant, but not in the Spain of 305. The rigorist tone of all the other canons of this synod would suggest too that the synod did mean the exact opposite of what it actually declared. This conclusion is further supported by the fact that one of the prime agitators for legislation against clerical marriage at the Council of Nicea in 325 was the Spanish bishop Hosius (Hefele-Leclerq, p. 621). 7 See Martin Boelens, Die Klerikerehe in der Gesetzgebung der Kirche, Paderborn, 1968, p~ 39. s p. Harkx, The Fathers on Celibacy, Des Peres, 1968, p. 16, takes "positis in ministerio" to mean "appointed to orifice." But Audet, Structures, p. 13, notes that in the Christian Latin of the period, when referring to pastoral service, the ministerium was generally seen as a sacrum ministerium, that is, as a service of the altar. ~Certainly its introduction was aided to some extent by the disparagement of sex which, despite the Church's rejection of the encratic sects spawned by Gnosticism, began, as early as Athenagoras, to gain ground within Christian circles; see Athenagoras, Supplicatio pro Christi 33, PG 6, 965-967; Minutius Felix, Octavius 31, PL 3, 335-338; Tertullian, Ad Uxorem I, 3, PL 1, 1277-1279; Clement of Alexandria, Christ the Educator 11, "Fathers of the Church," v. 23, New York, 1954, pp. 169f; Sextus, Sentences 230-233, ed. H. Chad-wick, Cambridge, 1959, p. 39. The trend toward sacralization received a major stimulus from Cyprian in the 3rd century; see Letters 1 and 67, "Fathers of the Church," v. 51, Washington, 1964, pp. 3-5 and 232. From Cyprian onward the Old Testament example of the Aaronic priesthood and its laws of periodic continency (Lev 22:3; Lev 15:18; Ex 19:15; 1 Sam 21:5) were appealed to more and more frequently as a model for the Christian priesthood. once introduced, it quickly established itself and became during the next fifteen hundred years the predominant rationale behind the legislation of clerical c6ntinency.1° For more than two hundred years after Elvira, all the legislation regarding the marital status of the clergy in the Western Church11 was solely directed toward pro-hibiting sexual intercourse between the higher clergy and their wives. Not until the Synod of Gerona in 517 did the Spanish bishops require separation. And in other coun-tries such legislation came still later. This fact, in itself, would suggest that throughout those two hundred years clerical continency was motivated almost solely by a con-cern for cultic purity. What other evidence is available supports that conclusion. Outside of Elvira, there was almost no legislation re-garding clerical marriage in the Western Church during the first seventy years of the 4th century.12 But in the 1°This is not, of course, to imply any judgment about the rationale for the chastity of religious men or women during the same period. Our present concern is only with the legislation of clerical celibacy. For a discussion of celibacy in a broader context, J. M. Ford's, ,4 Trilogy on Wisdom and Celibacy, Notre Dame, 1967, is especially good. A recently published work by Roger Gryson, Les origines du cdlibat eccldsiastique du premier au septi~me siecle, Paris, 1970, may also prove helpful. 11 In the East, legislation in this regard took a somewhat different course. At the Synod of Ancyra in 314, it was ruled in canon 10 that any deacon declaring his intention to marry at the time of his appointment might marry even after his ordination and continue in his ministry (Hefele-Leclerq, v. 1.I, pp. 312-313). Without such a prior declaration, however, he could not subsequently marry and still hope to exercise his office. Thus Ancyra already contained at least the germ of the practice eventually adopted by the Eastern Church at Trullo in 692, namely, marriage before but not after ordination. But for all these differences, the legislation in the East was really no less motivated by a desire for cultic purity than in the West, as we shall subsequently see in our discussion of the Synod of Trullo. That the notion of cultic purity was already prevalent in the East in the first half of the fourth century was exemplified by Eusebius of Caesarea when he wrote: "Verumtamen cos, qui sacrati sint, atque in Dei ministerio cultuque occupati, con-tinere deinceps seipsos a commercio uxoris decet" (Demonstrationis evangelicae I, IX, PG 22, 82). Likewise, the Synod of Laodicea, in 350, passed a number of measures which can only be understood within the context of cultic purity. Canon 21 decrees that sub-deacons shall not touch the sacred vessels; canon 44 bars women from approaching near the altar; according to canon 19 only clerics shall be permitted to approach the altar of sacrifice (Hefele-Leclerq, v. 1.2, pp. 1010-'20). On the other hand, however, the Synod of Gangra in 345 sought to check the sectarian thrust of Eustathian asceticism by excommunicating anyone maintaining that when a married priest offers the sacrifice, no one should take part in the service; see canon 4, Hefele-Leclerq, p. 1034. ~2 p. Harkx, The Fathers on Celibacy, p. 17, states that the Synod of Aries (314) reiterated the decrees of Elvira. But, the six appended canons, upon which Harkx bases his conclusion, do not really belong to this synod, but must be ascribed rather to a decretal of Pope + + + Celibacy VOLOME ~0~ 1971 201 last quarter of that century, Popes Damasus I (366-384) and Siricius (384-399) were both very active in initiating a program of clerical continency. Several synods were held at Rome some time around 370, which, while indi-cating a preference for clerical candidates who were not married, nevertheless allowed that someone baptized as an adult and already married might also be ordained, as-suming that he had remained chaste and was a man of one wife ("unius uxoris vir").13 In a letter to the bishops of Gaul, Damasus relayed this and other decisions of the Roman synods along with a discttssion of the reasons for clerical continency.14 A variety of reasons are proffered,1~ but the central argument builds upon the notion of cultic purity.16 The very first synod held at Rome (384) under Pope Siricius, declared in its 9th canon that, because of their daily administration of the sacraments, priests and dea-cons should not have intercourse with their wives.17 In ÷ ÷ ÷ B. Verkarnls REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 202 Siricius: "Weil der Wortlaut dieses Kanons mit den cc. 4 trod 5 aus dem Brief des Papstes Siricius an die afrikanischen Bish6fe fast wortlich iibereinstimmt und wahrscheinlich von dort iibernommen worden ist" (Boelens, Die Klerikerehe, p. 28). The Council o[ Nicea (325) forbids any cleric to mutilate himself (c.1) and also prohibits the higher clergy from having the so-called "virgines subintroductae" in their houses (c.3). But its canons say nothing about clerical con-tinency (see Hefele-Leclerq, v. 1.1, pp. 528-620). Apparently, some of the Council fathers had hoped to require continency of the clergy, but thanks to the saintly Egyptian bishop, Paphnutius, this move was checked. E. Schillebeeckx, Clerical Celibacy under Fire, London, 1967, p. 26, cites Mansi 2, 670, in support of his claim that the Council of Nicea forbade marriage after reception of higher orders "according to an ancient tradition of the church." But the canons of Nicea say no such thing. The only possible support for Schillebeeckx's claim might be the statement of Paphnutius that "it would be sufficient, according to the ancient tradition of the Church, if those who had taken holy orders without being married were prohibited from marrying afterwards" (Hefele-Leclerq, v. 1.1, p. 620). an H. Bruns, Canones Apostolorum et conciliorum veterum selecti, Turin, 1959, v. 2, pp. 277f. a~ Ibid. (The text is also presented in PL 13, 1181-96.) ~'~ The authority of Scripture and the fathers; a good example to the widows and virgins, and so forth: ibid. ~"Denique illi qui in templo sacrificia offerebant, ut mundi essent toto anno in templo solo observationis ~nerito permanebant, domos suas penitus nescientes. Certe idolatrae, ut impietates exerceant et daemonibus immolent, imperant sibi continentiam muliebrem et ab secis quoque se purgari volunt, et me interrogas si sacerdos dei vivi spiritualia oblaturus sacrificia purgatus perpetuo debeat esse, an totus in carrie carnis curare debeat facere?" (ibid). x~"Suademus quod sacerdotes et levitae cum uxoribus suis non coeant, quia in ministerio ministri quotidianis necessitatibus occu-pantur., si ergo laicis abstinentia imperatur, ut possint deprecantes audiri, quanto magis sacerdos utique omni ~nomento paratus esse debet, munditiae puritate securus, ne aut sacrificium offerat, aut baptizare cogatur." The canons of this synod have come down to us through the letter of Siricius to the bishops of Africa, which in the following year, Siricius repeats this injunction in a letter to the Spanish bishop Himerus of Tarragona and further embellishes it with the cultic purity rationale. Those priests who have continued to beget children are wrong, he says, when they appeal to the example of the Old Testament priests. These latter were permitted to have children only because the law demanded that only descendants of Levi be admitted to the service of God. Such is no longer the case. Furthermore, the Old Testa-ment priests were strictly enjoined to have no sexual relations with their wives during the time of their service, so that they might present to God an acceptable offering. Priests, therefore, who want their daily sacrifices to be pleasing to God must remain continually chaste,is The 5th century follows a similar pattern. Sexual intercourse is forbidden between higher clergy (deacons, priests, bishops) and their wives.10 But their separation is not required:°0 Why no intercourse? "Because at any moment," the Synod of Tours proclaimed in 460, "they may be summoned to the discharge of a sacred func-tion." 21 Canon 2 of the same synod notes that while those who break this rule need not be deposed from their office,2-0 they shall no longer be eligible to a higher grade and shall not be permitted to offer the holy sacrifice or to assist as deacons.23 To strengthen such an arrangement between the clergy and their wives, a number of synods began during this turn was read at the African Synod of Telepte in 418, whence the present text. See Bruns, op. cit. I, p. 154. It is to this canon that the 6th spurious canon of the Synod of Aries (314) probably owes its origin; supra, footnote 11. ~ See Boelens, Die Klerikerehe, pp. 43-44. Arguments such as this were echoed repeatedly in ihe writings of Ambrose and Jerome who during this period were combating the "errors" of Jovinian and Vigilantius. 19See canon 1, Synod of Toledo (400), Hefele-Leclerq, v. 2.1, p. 123; canon 8, Synod of Turin (c. 400), ibid., p. 134; canons 23 and 24, Synod of Orange (441), ibid., p. 446; canon 2, Synod of Arles (443), ibid., p. 462. Pope Leo I in 446 included subdeacons under the rule; see PL 54, 672-3. ~0 Pope Leo I wrote that from the ti.me of ordination, the higher clergy must convert a carnal union into a spiritual one: "They must, though not sending away their wives, have them as though not having them" (PL 54, 1204). It will be recalled that during this same period the Church expressed itself as vehemently opposed to any "spiritual relations" between the clergy and the virgines subintro-ductae. .ol Hefele-Leclerq, v. 2.2, p. 899. The cultic purity rationale was also expressed during this century by Pope Innocent I (see Audet, Str~*ctures, p. 89) and by the Synod of Telepte (418) which, as we have noted earlier, took over the Letter of Siricius and its canons regarding clerical continency; see Bruns, Canones, v. l, p. 154. -°:As other synods had suggested, for example, c. 4, Synod of Carthage (401), Hefele-Leclerq, v. 2.1, p. 127. .-a. Ibid., v. 2.2, p. 899. + + + Celibacy VOLUME 30, 1971 203 + + 4. B. Verkamp REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 204 period to require a vow of chastity prior to ordination. Thus we read in canon 22 of the Synod of Hippo (393) that when lectors have attained the age of puberty, they mnst either marry or make a vow of continence.-04 Later, in 441, a synod at Orange declared that "married men shall not henceforth be ordained deacons unless they have previously vowed chasity." "~ The same decree was repeated at the Synod of Arles in 443.-06 Whatever else these vows came to connote in a later period,-07 there can be little doubt that in their original conception, they were meant simply to support the cultic purity arrange-merit. The next major step in legislation regarding clerical continency came with the rule that the clergy and their wives must separate. Here again the initiative came from Spain. In 517, a synod at Gerona ruled that all ordained married men, from subdeacons to bishops, must cease liv-ing with their wives. If they will not do that, they must at least have living with them someone else who might witness to their conduct."s The last part of this decree suggests something of the motivation underlying the rule of separation stated in the first part. The higher clergy were to separate from their wives, not because they would thereby become more available for Church service, but rather to remove them from suspicion of being less pure than was required of anyone serving at the altar. In other words, the rule of separation was simply a strengthening of the earlier no-interconrse legislation. This becomes even clearer as we trace the development of the law of separation in France during the fith century. Some of the first French synods of this century simply reiterated the EIvira legislation and sought to enforce it by strict penalties. Thus in 535, the Synod of Clermont declared that if anyone is ordained deacon or priest, he must not continne marital interconrse. He becomes a brother of his wife. Those who, inflamed by desire, have "cast off the girdle of the warfare," and have returned to their previous condition,"9 must be deprived of their clerical dignity.:~0 A few years later, however, we see the _o~ Ibid., v. 2.1, p. 87. -"~ Canon 22, ibid., p. 445. ,-,a Canon 2, ibid., p. 462. '-'~ See Schillebeeckx, Clerical Celibacy, p. 60t". ="De conversatione vitae a pontifice usque ad subdiaconum post suscepti honoris oflicium, si qui ex conjugatis fuerint ordinati, ut sine testimonio alterius fratris non utantur auxilio: cure sorore jam ex conjuge facta non habitent; quod si habitare voluerint, alterius [ratris utantur auxilio, cujus testimonio vita eorum debeat clarior apparere" (Bruns, Canones, v. 2, p. 19). See also c. 5, Synod of Toledo (589), ibid., v. 1, p. 214. ._~a,,.abjecto militiae cingulo vomitum pristinum et inhibita rursus conjugia repetiisse." ibid., v. 2, p. 190. ao Canon 13, ibid. start of an attempt to remove the cleric from suspicion, which would climax in a rule like that of Gerona (517). In 541, the Synod of Orleans ruled that bishops, priests, and deacons must not have the same chamber and the same bed with their wives, so that they not be brought into suspicion of carnal intercourse,a~ A synod at Tours in 567 went several steps further, and declared that wherever the bishop resides he must be surrounded with clergy,a" And lest the clergy who serve him come into contact with the maidservants of the bishop's wife, the bishop and his wife shonld have separate abodes,a:~ Sim-ilar rules are laid down for the priests, deacons, and sub-deacons. As very many rural archpriests, deacons, and subdeacons rest under suspicion, of continuing inter-course with their wives, canon 19 states tbat the arch-priest must always have a cleric with him, who accom-panies bim.everywhere and has his bed with him in the same cell;a4 tbe remaining priests, deacons and subdea-cons are warned to take care that their female slaves shall always live where their wives do, while they themselves dwell and pray in their cells alone,a~ A priest who lives with his wife, canon 19 concludes, must not be rever-enced by the people, but disapproved of, because he is a teacher, not of continence, but of vice.a~ In 578, the Synod of Anxerre reiterated the earlier decree of Orleans (541) to the effect that no priest, dea-con, or subdeacon was to sleep in the same bed with his wife after ordination,av In 581, the Synod of Mficon added yet another measure: No woman may enter a bishop's chamber unless two priests or deacons are pres-ent? s Finally, in 583, the Synod of Lyon expressly de-manded that priests and deacons not only have separate beds from their wives but that they also cease all daily contact with them.~9 "t Canon 17, ibid., p. 204. .a~ Canon 12, ibid., p. 227. :~ Ibid. ~' But no priest or monk mlJst sleep in the same bed with an-other, in order to avoid every evil suspicion; ibid., p. 228. a.~ Canon 19, ibid., pp. 229-230. ~ Ibid., p. 230. ar Canon 20, ibid., p. 239. ~ Canon 3, ibid., p. 243. a~ Canon 1, ibid., p. 247: "Placuit etiam, ut si quicuniqne u~oribus juncti ad diaconatus aut presbytcratus ordinem quoquo modo pervenerint, non solum lecto sed etiam frcquentatione quotidiana debeant de nxoribus suis sequcstrari." Outside of Spain and France, the law of separation was only much later enacted. Pope Gregory the Great (590-604) expressly rejected the idea of making those already married leave their wives after ordination unless they had promised continency prior to ordination (Letter 44, PL 77, 505-6). The first Roman synod to require separation was probably that of 743 (See canon 1; Hefele- Leclerq, v. 3.2, p. 851). In the East, the Synod of Trullo (692) rnled + + + Celibacy VOLUME ~0, ~971 205 ÷ ÷ ÷ B. Verkam~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 206 It is hard, therefore, to escape the impression that, as stated above, the separation of clergy from their wives was anything other than yet another facet of the same concern for cultic purity which underlay the earlier pro-hibition of sexual interconrse. This impression is further enhanced by the fact that French synods of the same pe-riod were passing a variety of measures which could only quicken the process of sacralization. The synod at Tours in 567 declared, for example, that at Masses, as well as at Vigils, the laity are not allowed to stand among the clergy near the altar on which the holy mysteries are solemnized.4° According to the Synod of Orleans (533), no woman must henceforth be given the benedictio dia-conalis. 41 Nor may a woman receive the holy Eucharist with uncovered hand,42 or touch the pall.4,~ Clerics are not to wear secular garments.44 The next six centuries saw no basic change in ec-clesiastical legislation touching upon the clergy's sexual conduct or marital status. The myriad decrees issued during these centuries either simply reiterate previous legislation or attempt to strengthen the same with more stringent penalties or some other positive measures, or, finally, seek to deal with complications arising out of the earlier laws. Some repeated the earlier demands for a vow of chastity prior to ordination.4~ Others encourage({ the adoption of a vita communis by the clergy.46 While none that if a married priest is consecrated bishop, his wife must go into a convent at a considerable distance (canon 48, Hefele-Leclerq, v. 3.1, p. 569). The motivation behind this measure was no less grounded in a concern for cultic purity than were similar measures in the West. Canon 13 of Trullo states that at the time when they must celebrate divine services, subdeacons, deacons, and priests are obliged to refrain from their wives since it has already been ordained that be who ministers in sacred things must be pure (ibid., v. 3.1, p. 565). The bishops must abstain completely because, unlike the priests and deacons, theirs is a fulltime service of the altar. ~o Canon 4, Bruns, Canones, v. 2, p. 226. ~t Canon 18, ibid., p. 187. ~-" Canon 36, Synod of Auxerre (578), ibid., p. 241. ~ Canon 37, ibid. "Canon 5, Synod of Mficon (581), ibid., p. 243. ~ Schillebeeckx, Clerical Celibacy, p. 60, cites the Fourth Council of Toledo (633) in this regard. But the "professio castitatis" to which canon 27 of that Council refers concerns a vow made after ordina-tion by those about to take up a rural pastorate (Bruns, Canones, v. 1, p. 231), and not, as Schillebeeckx says, a vow prior to ordination. This would suggest, as Boelens has noted (Die Klerikerehe, p. 100), that the conversio prior to ordination required by the Synod of Toledo in 527 had fallen out of practice. Vows prior to ordination were, however, required by the following synods: Worms (868); Bourges (1031); Limoges (1031); London (1102). ~ One of the first to advocate systematically the vita communis was Chrodegang of Metz (d. 766); see Bihlmeyer-Tiichle, Church History, Westminster, 1963, v. 2, p. 108). Synods at Canterbury (969), Rome (1059), Rome (1063), and Winchester (1076) encourage the idea. showed any concern for the care of the clergyman's wife and children after separation, a number dictated what was to happen to these latter if they did not separate from the cleric. Both the wives and the children were made subject to being sold or taken into slavery.47 The clergymen themselves were generally threatened with dep-osition in the event of disobedience; but when this had little effect, the legislators moved to forbid the laity from attending the Masses of such clerics.48 This "separation from the altar" of the incontinent cleric was extended by Gregory VII in 1079 to exclude the cleric from entrance into the church, so that he could not even take a passive part in divine worship.49 The notion of cultic purity, which we contend was operative within all this legislation, was not always given explicit expression.~° Gregory VII (1073-1085) himself, who climaxed the period under discussion, most fre-quently appealed only to the need for obedience to papal authority.~1 But his untiring efforts to separate the in-continent clergy from the service of .the altar, and oc-casional utterances to the effect that God can only be 57 Concerning wives, see canon 5, Synod of Toledo (653), Brtms, Canones, v. 1, p. 280; Synod of Rome (1049), Boelens, Die Klerikerehe, p. 135. Regarding children, see canon 10, Synod of Toledo (655), Bruns, Canones, v. 1, p. 295; Synod of Pavia (1022), Hefele-Leclerq, v. 4.2, p. 920. The inability of the children of clergymen to inherit Church goods had long before been established by the Code of Justinian (529), and by Pope Pelagius (556-561). The synods of Toledo (655) and Pavia (1022) reasserted the same. Pope Gregory VII especially showed himself callous as regards the clergyman's dependents. Boelens writes: "Tatsache abet war doch, (lass die meisten verheiratet waren und (lass sic Frau und Kinder hatten, fi_ir die sie zu sorgen batten. Wie sich die gregorianische Reform fiir sic auswirkte, wurde in den Gesetzcn hie erwahnt. Man vcrffigte nicht, was mit Frau und Kindern gcscbchcn sollten; nut immer wicder das Eine: 'crimen fornicationis' oder 'morbus fornica-tionis clericorum' oder bloss cinfach 'fornicatio' muss strong bestraft werden" (Die Klerikerehe, p. 147). ~8See Synods of Rome 0059), Rome (1063), Gerona (1068), Rome (1074), Poitiers (1078), Piacenza (1095), London (1102). Gregory VII also turned to the laity for support when some German bishops refused to cooperate with his refo